The Ben Hope Collection: 6 BOOK SET

by Mariani, Scott

  Checking the kitchen cupboards, he found he still had a few tins of food and an unopened pack of Lavazza ground coffee. Better still, three bottles of the red table wine he used to buy from the grocery store down the street.

  He drank three cups of strong black coffee and smoked a couple of Gauloises. Then it was time to make a move.

  The address in the suburbs surprised him somewhat. It turned out to be a shabby little place in a shabby little street, the last in a row of terraced houses next to a disused filling station where a rusted Esso sign creaked in the breeze. The neighbouring house was obviously derelict, boards over the windows and the door nailed up. The sky was grey, and rain was threatening as Ben parked the car a little way up the street.

  He flipped open the glove compartment and took out the Browning. Racked the slide of the pistol, chambering the top round, and clicked on the safety. Shifting forward in the driver’s seat he slipped the gun into his belt, behind the right hip, where it was covered by his leather jacket. He stepped out of the car, feeling the light patter of raindrops on his face.

  He walked up to the house and knocked on the door. After a few moments there was the sound of footsteps from inside, and the door creaked open.

  Ben knew the guy standing in the doorway. He was the smaller of the two men who’d been on the beach in San Remo. The one who’d run away.

  ‘Stolen any good handbags recently?’ Ben asked him.

  The guy didn’t react. He shut the door and led Ben down a hallway. The inside of the house didn’t look any better than the outside. Wallpaper was hanging in strips from the walls of the empty rooms and the carpets were threadbare.

  ‘Cosy little place,’ Ben said.

  ‘This way,’ the guy said. They came to a door and he pushed it open.

  The other side of the door was the kind of operations room that a very small team running on a minuscule budget would set up. The three beaten-up armchairs and the old desk in the corner looked as though they’d been rescued from a skip. The desk was covered in clutter-papers, a collection of phones, a whirring notebook computer. A couple of cameras, one with a long lens. A couple of open aluminium cases on the floor contained an assortment of audio surveillance equipment. In the middle of the room, a Formica slab resting on two beer crates made a low table covered in plastic cups and the remnants of a fast-food meal. The place smelled of instant coffee and stale bodies and damp carpet. The blind was drawn down over the single window. The atmosphere reminded Ben of various police stakeouts he’d seen-only twice as depressing.

  And he still didn’t have a clue who these people were.

  Seated in one of the armchairs was another man he’d seen before. A big guy, broad shoulders, heavy arms folded across his chest. His neck was enveloped in a foam brace and his posture was stiff and awkward, as though it still hurt to move. His eyes were rimmed with red from pain.

  The smaller guy went and stood with his back to the window. Ben walked into the room and gazed from one man to the other. ‘Where’s Valentine?’

  ‘She’s here,’ said a familiar voice. Ben turned.

  ‘So we meet again,’ she said.

  She stood framed in the doorway of a small kitchen. Her hair was brushed down flat against her head and tied back tightly, the way it had been on the video call. The vulnerable feminine look he’d seen in San Remo had disappeared. Her face was drawn and pale, and the jeans and navy jumper looked slept in. ‘Thanks for coming. Can I get you a coffee?’

  ‘You can get me an explanation,’ Ben said.

  Valentine nodded. ‘I owe you one. And I’ll tell you everything. But first, let me introduce you to my colleagues.’ She pointed to the big guy in the armchair. ‘This is Udo Wolff.’

  Wolff nodded stiffly to Ben.

  ‘Don’t get up,’ Ben said.

  ‘This is Jimmy Harrison,’ Valentine said, pointing at the small guy who was standing by the window. And we need your help. I’m glad you came. You want to sit down? This is going to take a while.’

  Ben moved over to one of the armchairs and sat down with his legs out in front of him and his arms folded. ‘I’m listening,’ he said. ‘This had better be worth it.’

  ‘It is,’ Valentine replied. ‘But you’re not going to like it. Get ready for some big shocks.’

  ‘I’m ready.’

  She stepped across to the desk. On top of the pile of papers was a brown A4 envelope. She reached inside and took out a large photo print. She didn’t look at it as she walked over to Ben and passed it to him.

  He studied the glossy colour print carefully. It wasn’t very nice to look at. The photo showed a woman, or what was left of a woman. It was worse than the pictures of Morgan Paxton’s body-a lot worse. She was naked and looked as though she’d been passed through a combine harvester.

  ‘You’re looking at Linda Downey,’ Valentine said. ‘She was the fourth member of our team.’ She paused, swallowed. ‘And she was my friend.’

  He handed the picture back to her. There was complete sincerity in her eyes. And other things, he thought. Anger, maybe fear, too.

  ‘You might be wondering who did this to her,’ Valentine said. And what this has to do with why you’re here.’

  ‘I’m wondering,’ Ben said.

  Valentine tapped the picture with her fingertips. ‘The person who did this to Linda is called Berg. We don’t even know if that’s his real name. Whoever he is, he’s totally off the grid and untraceable. But we do know the name of the man he works for. The man on whose orders he did this.’

  Valentine laid the photo face-down on the desk, as though she couldn’t stand looking at it any more. There was tension in her jawline.

  ‘Berg’s employer is Colonel Harry Paxton,’ she said.

  Chapter Thirty

  Ben stared at Valentine for a long moment. ‘I think you’d better explain yourself more clearly. Just exactly who are you, what do you want from me, and what are you trying to say?’

  ‘All right,’ she said. ‘I just wanted you to see the picture. I wanted you to know the kind of man Harry Paxton really is. But let me back up a couple of steps and start at the beginning.’

  Ben just watched her coldly. Harrison and Wolff were silent.

  Valentine pointed at the two men. ‘Until five weeks ago, the three of us were special agents with Interpol.’

  Ben kept gazing at her steadily.

  ‘You don’t believe me?’

  ‘That’s something I can easily check. I know people in Interpol. I’ve got a few connections.’

  ‘I’m sure you have,’ Valentine said. ‘Feel free to check up on us. I’ll give you the exact details of people we worked with, section chiefs we were answerable to, names of departments, the colour of the wall tiles in the toilets at the General Secretariat in Lyon.’

  ‘I’ll be sure to make some calls,’ Ben said. ‘But let’s just say for the moment that I believe you. I still don’t understand why I’m here listening to this.’

  ‘You’re here because Harry Paxton’s not who you think he is. Because it’s time you knew the truth.’ Valentine paused. ‘Let me tell you about the real Harry Paxton. He’s an arms dealer. He’s been trading illegally in weapons for more than a decade. He sells to anyone. Terrorists, mass murderers. He’s given power to despots across the world. Fuelled war crimes and genocide in just about every war zone going. Africa, South America, Asia, the Middle East, you name it. He’s smart, ruthless and will kill anyone who stands in his way. The reason we’re here in Paris is that he’s due to arrive tomorrow afternoon for a meeting with one of his business associates at the Georges V hotel. It could be a break for us. We’re going to follow the bastard everywhere he goes.’

  There was a long silence. Anxious looks passed between Valentine, Wolff and Harrison.

  Ben stood up. ‘I don’t have to listen to this. You’re talking complete bullshit. There’s no way Harry Paxton is an arms dealer. It’s insane.’

  ‘Sit down, Major Hope. Hear us out.’
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  But Ben was already walking to the door.

  Then a voice made him stop dead in his tracks.

  ‘Listen to her, Ben. She’s telling the truth.’

  He turned slowly, and for a moment he was speechless.

  It was Zara. She stood in the doorway from which Valentine had emerged before. She looked anxious, tense. The black T-shirt and jacket she was wearing made her face seem even paler than it was.

  But she still looked beautiful. He took a step towards her. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, incredulous.

  ‘I’m with them,’ she said, motioning at the three agents. ‘I’ve been helping them. Harry thinks I’m visiting a sick friend in Rome.’

  As Ben gaped at her, his mind was sprinting backwards through all the things that had happened. The time in San Remo, when they’d been followed. Now he understood why Zara had seemed so unconcerned about it. ‘You were in on this the whole time?’

  She nodded. ‘It’s true about Harry. He isn’t who you think he is.’

  ‘And there’s more,’ Valentine said. ‘A lot more. I really think you need to sit down and listen.’

  Ben didn’t know what to say. He felt dazed as he walked back to his chair and sat down.

  ‘Thank you,’ Valentine said. ‘I mean it. I know this is hard for you.’

  It was getting dark in the room as evening fell outside the window. Valentine walked over and flipped a light switch. A bare bulb in the middle of the ceiling lit up with a weak glow that made the room seem even gloomier.

  ‘Let me get this right,’ Ben said. ‘You know all this about Harry, yet he’s a free man. Why isn’t he in jail now?’

  ‘Like I said, he’s smart,’ Valentine answered. ‘He always stays a step ahead of the game, and nobody’s ever been able to catch him. He uses his yacht charter business as a front, shipping arms consignments all over the world. Any idea how much cargo one of those superyachts can hold?’

  ‘A lot,’ Harrison said.

  A fuck of a lot,’ Wolff added.

  ‘Interpol have been watching him for a long time,’ Valentine went on. ‘The bastard has been my whole life for two years. But we just couldn’t get anything concrete, and our superiors pulled the plug on the investigation. They said if we pushed it any further, it was going to look like harassment. So, case closed. That was six weeks ago.’ She smiled grimly. ‘His SAS training came in handy, I imagine. He goes in, does the business, gets out and it’s like he was never there. You must know all about that, Major.’

  ‘First off,’ he said, ‘you can drop the Major bit. I’m Ben. Second, you don’t seem to have a lot of proof. Third, why are three ex-agents pursuing a private investigation of a man with a record as clean as Harry’s when their superiors have already dropped the case? It looks to me like a personal vendetta.’

  Valentine nodded. ‘It is.’ Her fingers brushed the back of the photo on the desk. ‘Let me tell you about Linda. She was only twenty-six. She’d been with us on the case just three months. I put her on the team because she was a star linguist, spoke perfect Russian, Spanish and any number of African languages. She was the perfect close surveillance operative. She could get in anywhere.’ Valentine paused, and a look of sadness passed over her face. ‘Algeria, seven weeks ago. I had a report from her. She said she’d finally got the evidence that was going to put Paxton away.’

  ‘What evidence?’ Ben asked.

  ‘That’s just it,’ Valentine sighed. ‘I never saw it. Linda didn’t turn up at the RV. Three days later she was found ninety miles away up the coast. It looked like the sharks had got her. You’ve seen the picture.’

  ‘How do you know the sharks didn’t get her?’

  Valentine shook her head vigorously. ‘Because it doesn’t add up. An eyewitness reported that she was dancing and flirting drunkenly with two guys in some strip joint the night before, a mile from where her body was found. The official story is she went off with them. But it’s all wrong.’

  ‘Maybe she did,’ Ben said. ‘Maybe you just want to believe there’s more to it.’

  ‘Linda wouldn’t have gone off with two guys she met in a bar,’ Valentine said. ‘They wouldn’t have been her type.’

  ‘You know that for a fact?’

  Valentine looked at him sharply. ‘She was gay. I know that for a fact. A personal fact,’ she added meaningfully. ‘And I know she wasn’t there. Paxton had her butchered and the whole story was concocted to cover his tracks. That’s how he works. And we’re going to get the fucker. For what his trade does to innocent victims everywhere, and for what he did to Linda.’ Valentine’s face was tight with rage. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she brushed it away. ‘We’re going to do whatever it takes to nail him.’

  Ben didn’t reply.

  ‘That’s where you come in,’ Wolff said. ‘We’re on our own here. We desperately need help from someone Paxton trusts.’

  ‘And you were hoping that, based on no evidence at all, I was going to betray him.’ Ben turned to Zara. ‘How can you listen to these people?’

  Zara came over to where he was sitting and crouched down on the floor next to him. She held his hand tightly. ‘You’ve got to believe them, Ben. When I met Harry, I could only see his charm. But that’s not who he is. He’s a monster. A tyrant. He’s the most evil, cruel, dominating man ever born.’

  ‘We approached Zara four weeks ago,’ Valentine said. ‘We’d been watching them whenever they were on shore together. We could see they were arguing a lot. We took a chance.’

  Zara looked deep into Ben’s eyes. ‘Do you remember that day we were together? When I told you I wanted to leave him but couldn’t because of Morgan’s death?’

  ‘I remember,’ Ben said.

  ‘It wasn’t because of Morgan. It was because of what Kim, Jimmy and Udo told me. They showed me terrible pictures, of African children whose arms and legs had been shot off with guns that had been bought from Harry. Little bodies covered in horrible burns, faces disfigured. Villages that had just been destroyed, along with everyone in them. That’s what he does, Ben. That’s where all the money comes from. How was I supposed to just walk away?’

  ‘You’re just taking their word for it.’

  ‘No. After I agreed to help them, I started trying to look around the Scimitar. Down in one of the cargo holds, I found these crates. Big locked brown metal boxes with white stencilled writing on them. Then I heard voices. Harry and some others. I hid. I couldn’t see them, but they were talking about a shipment. I heard the sound of them opening one of the crates, and a kind of gun sound.’

  ‘A kind of gun sound?’ Ben said sceptically.

  ‘A sound like this,’ Harrison said. He took a Colt .45 auto from under his jacket. With his left hand he racked back the slide on the large, stainless steel automatic and released it with a metallic shlack-clack.

  ‘Just like that,’ Zara said.

  ‘I think that’s called leading the witness,’ Ben said.

  ‘Let her speak,’ Valentine cut in.

  ‘When they left, I sneaked away. When it was safe, I went back down there with a camera. The crates had gone.’

  ‘That’s what I call real hard evidence,’ Ben said.

  Valentine looked uncomfortable. ‘We know. We haven’t got a shred. That’s why we came up with the plan to get me onto the Scimitar. It’s very rare for Paxton to let anyone on board. Zara told us about your meeting. We checked you out. Your military background, your wife’s murder. I had a feeling you’d be the kind of man who would help out a lady in distress.’

  ‘I was a fool to,’ Ben said.

  ‘I thought you were a hero,’ Valentine replied. ‘I was sorry we had to trick you. But there was really no other way.’

  ‘Why trust me now? How do you know I’m not working with Harry?’

  ‘We thought of that. It didn’t figure.’

  ‘Maybe I was just too clever for you, the way you claim Harry is.’

  ‘We thought of that too. But thanks
to Zara we have a recording of your talk with Paxton. It’s pretty clear from the conversation that you’re not involved with his business. You went to Cairo for him, but you didn’t kill those men. We know about the citizen’s arrest, too. As far as we’re concerned, you’re clean. Clean, but very interesting.’

  Ben glared at Zara.

  She squeezed his hand. ‘I’m sorry I spied on you. We had to know.’

  ‘And I take it you didn’t find anything during your little snooping expedition,’ Ben said, turning back to Valentine. ‘Or you wouldn’t be talking to me now.’

  Valentine sighed. ‘I was hoping I could find something on his personal computer. I sneaked into his study and fitted a miniature keystroker with a transmitting device. That way, we can intercept everything he writes. But guess what? He hasn’t written a word.’

  And guess what? I’ve had enough of this conversation. It’s a joke.’

  ‘We can’t let you go,’ Wolff said.

  Ben looked at him hard. ‘If you try to stop me, everyone in this room except Zara is dead.’

  ‘He doesn’t mean it that way,’ Valentine said. ‘He means you can’t leave without letting us tell you the truth about Harry Paxton.’

  ‘Seems to me you just gave it your best shot,’ Ben said. ‘And failed.’

  ‘There’s more to tell. By the time I’m finished, I guarantee you’ll see him in a whole new light. You’ll realise you don’t even know him.’

  ‘I served with him. I fought alongside him. I think I know him a hell of a lot better than you do.’

  ‘And he also saved your life,’ Valentine said. ‘Sierra Leone, May 14th, 1997. Right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Wrong.’

  He glowered at her. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I told you you weren’t going to like it. You’re going to have to make some mental adjustments.’

  ‘I know the truth.’