“Nothing comes of re-opening old wounds,” he muttered, a faraway look in his eyes.
“What if the wound never healed in the first place?” suggested Terra. “Who are you still protecting after all these years?”
“You wouldn’t understand. Men like the Colonel don’t get their hands dirty. They outsource, keep everything arm’s length. It’s how they work.”
“You don’t owe him anything.”
“I hated what bastards like al-Nazridi were doing to our country. Me and the Colonel, we had a mutual interest.” Briggs sat down heavily on the bench seat, apparently relieved to be getting something off his chest.
“I don’t understand. Please, just tell me,” she begged him. “How did you know the Colonel?”
“Someone I knew, years ago, we went to the same school. He worked for the Met, tipped me off from time to time, in return, I’d keep him sweet. He knew from when we were kids how I felt about trouble makers, stirring things up in our backyard, ‘hate preachers’ like Abu Hamza. My mate puts me in touch with some high-up in SO15, counter terrorism. He needed someone on the ground to be his eyes and ears, in north London, embedded within the community, someone who wouldn’t stick out.”
“What did you say?”
“I wasn’t going to let men like Abu Hamza get away with it, recruiting local kids to fight in his holy war.”
“What did you do?”
“I had a couple of Muslim lads start to go to Finsbury mosque to keep watch over him, get nice and close, and report back. I let counter terrorism know if there was anything suspicious going on, who they were hanging around with. After a while, the counter-terrorism person sets up another meeting with the Colonel.”
“When was this?”
Briggs scratched his head. “2003. These people were too clever by half. The law couldn’t touch them. Too many human rights lawyers paid for by legal aid.”
“So what did you do for him?”
“We called it the ‘Tottenham taxi service’. We picked them up, softened them up a bit, delivered them to SO15 for interrogation. Meant they got to keep their hands clean.”
“I think that’s what they call plausible deniability?” She laughed. “Go on. So how long did your taxi service run?”
“Only a few months. Once we’d exhausted the list of suspects from Finsbury Park mosque, they gave us another list.”
“Where did you take them?”
“To an airfield, or to the docks. Then on to Egypt or Romania. Some went to Saudi Arabia.”
“What did you get in return?”
“Old Bill turned a blind eye from time to time. Turned up the heat on our rivals, but it was too good to last. One day, this suit from Cheltenham threatens to expose me if I didn’t do one more thing. They needed this scientist brought in for questioning.”
Terra stared in disbelief. “Doctor Kelly was one of your passengers?”
Briggs hesitated, suddenly reticent to divulge further details. “We didn’t do anything,” he protested. “We did as we were told. Treated him with kid gloves. One way trip to Brize Norton. Next thing he turns up dead in the woods. The suits tried to pin the blame on us, but they couldn’t prove anything.”
“My God.”
“Still, it didn’t matter. They framed us for something different instead. Some armoured car job, up north. My whole crew had rock-solid alibis but it didn’t seem to matter.”
“What do you remember from that night? Did Kelly say anything to you?”
“I’ve been over this with the Colonel about a hundred times. Kelly didn’t talk much. He thought we were going to kill him.”
“Did the Colonel tell you what really happened?”
Briggs shrugged. “He was old. They said he had a heart condition. Probably died in police custody. Maybe they pushed him too hard. It happens all the time. Someone dumped his body in that wood and made it look like suicide.”
“Why didn’t you say anything, before? About Kelly?”
“Because that entire episode is toxic. The colonel warned me never to talk about it, to anyone.”
“I don’t imagine you frighten easily.”
“You don’t know these people. They can make things happen. The Colonel was the only one who kept his word.”
“Do you remember a car crash in the New Forest. A young lawyer. Stephen Hastings? Was he one of your passengers?”
“Stevo? No way.” Briggs hesitated, faltered, unsure of the right words. “Your brother was a good guy.”
“You really knew him?”
“We were never close, but he helped mum and dad. I owed him.”
“I don’t understand?”
“It’s a long story. My old man was Army. 2nd Battalion. Lost his leg in a car crash while he was stationed in Germany. Army claimed it wasn’t liable. Dad was on leave at the time but your brother got him a pay out.”
“Stephen was a tax specialist. Why would he help your dad with an accident claim?” The penny dropped for Terra. “Oh, right, pro bono. When he was a trainee, he donated his time to get experience, before he qualified.”
“The old man was never the same after the accident. They reckoned he suffered from depression, post-traumatic stress from his time in the Gulf in the Nineties. He always blamed the Army for the injections they gave him.”
Terra raised an eyebrow, but didn’t respond. “So what happened to your dad?”
“Took an overdose. He was just an empty shell at the end. Thirty-four when he died. The compensation money your brother won helped me and mum make a fresh start in Finsbury Park.”
“When was the last time you spoke to Stephen?”
Briggs had to think about it. “He called my associate the night he died. Asked for his help.”
“Why?”
“Stevo thought someone was following him but his phone signal kept dropping, driving through the forest. When we tried calling him back there was no answer.”
“Briggs, why did you never tell me any of this before now?” she said, shaking her head.
“Because I made him a promise, that I’d look after you if anything happened. It was easier to say nothing. Then the Colonel shows up out of the blue and starts asking questions again.”
“So getting the castle back is the Colonel’s way of thanking you?”
Briggs nodded. “He owed me, big time. This is just the first step.”
“Too right. And will you keep your end of the bargain? What you promised Zed?”
“The boy’s free to leave whenever he wants.”
“Connor should be with his father and sister, Briggs. He’s not old enough to decide for himself. Let me be the one to take the kid back to his father. It’s the least we should do. Please?”
“Not until we know what happened to Donnelly.”
“Shame, really,” she admitted turning away in triumph. “I’ve got used to having the little guy around.”
Chapter 61
In the shadow of Hurst Castle’s east wing batteries, Zed helped Sam and Tommy erect the freestanding marquee large enough to accommodate all of this evening’s visitors. It had been some time since the castle had hosted a banquet quite this grand. They all remembered the two-year anniversary celebrations held to coincide with Jack’s birthday, but that all felt like a lifetime ago. Underneath the giant canvas, Liz’s team dressed every table with candles, holly and bracken from the forest.
Guests began arriving in all their finery from six o’clock. Naval officers, politicians in suits, local dignitaries mixing with the heroes of the hour. The gathering was already alive with conversation and laughter. The UN task force’s arrival reminded Zed of VE Day at the end of the war. Photos of unbridled joy, people casting aside their inhibitions, for once forgetting social distancing, living in the moment. Alcohol certainly played its part.
“If people want to kiss and hug each other, then let them,” insisted Riley with a mischievous smile. “Everyone’s been vaccinated. What’s the worst that can happen?”
Once everyone had taken their seats, the colonel, LaSalle and Armstrong took it in turns to toast the assembled company for their part in tonight’s festivities. LaSalle took the opportunity to showcase details of the UN’s planned clean-up operation of the British mainland, due to begin, without delay, sweeping north towards Winchester and Salisbury, whilst their counterparts in the south east had already set up command posts in Canterbury and Maidstone.
The professor rose from his seat to muted applause. A loud cheer rang out when he predicted the English strain of the virus would die out, mutating into less virulent forms, though he warned quarantine measures and restrictions on movement would remain in force for the foreseeable future. St Mary’s would switch production to Aflorinix, the UN’s prototype vaccine, to be made available to everyone in the coming weeks. He ended with a note of cautious optimism.
“Life must go on. We should not sit on our hands, nor live in fear. The virus will never stand still. Nor should we.”
“What happens when it comes back?” shouted a voice from the back.
“Thanks to the work of Doctor Hardy and his team, we’ll be ready,” said the professor, begrudgingly acknowledging Hardy who had chosen to sit with the other scientists. “There’s every hope our children and our children’s children will be born with natural immunity. And for the rest of us, there is the vaccine,” he said, raising a glass to the UN medical team.
Scottie leant over Zed to refill his glass, belching in the process. His breath made Zed’s eyes water. Scottie draped a drunken arm around Zed’s shoulders, spilling wine down his shirt. “Cheer up, man, it might never happen.” Zed smiled in response, uncomfortable in such close proximity after social distancing for so long. “Relax, enjoy yourself,” encouraged Scottie, offering Zed a top up.
“Later. The Colonel’s asked me to say a few words,” sighed Zed.
“I hope you’re gonna start stirring things up again about Porton,” whispered Scottie, his breath hot in his ear, patting his cheek and roaring with laughter.
“Think what you like, my friend,” said Zed, shaking his head. “I know what I believe.”
“Ach, I’m only playing with you, man. If anyone knows what really happened, my money’s on you, big man.”
Zed shrugged his shoulders and winked. “We’ll see. The truth will out, eventually. LaSalle’s investigators will get to the bottom of it.”
“You’re not going with them?” Scottie sounded surprised, his eyes unfocused.
“And leave all you lot with all the spoils?” He patted his friend’s shoulder, freeing himself from his clutches, propping Scottie back upright.
A round of applause signalled the end of the professor’s speech. All eyes turned to Zed as the colonel invited him forward to the top table to say a few words. Zed scanned the densely packed marquee, full of familiar faces, warmth, friendship and expectancy. He tried to locate Riley, but couldn’t find her in the crowd.
“It’s good to be home,” he opened to raucous cheers from one or two at the front. “I’ve missed this place. And all of you.” He gestured at those nearest. “I want to take a moment to pay tribute to our founder, Jack, who gave his life defending this castle against those who sought to destroy everything we’ve worked so hard for.”
Zed raised his eyes to the canvas roof, decorated with bunting and long lines of flickering light bulbs, fed by the generator, as if seeking inspiration from the heavens.
“Jack, my friend, I know you’re watching over us. We’ll always remember how you imagined a better life for us here, built on shared values. A place where everyone has a role to play, regardless of our background or ability. In a time of chaos, when we saw both extremes of human nature, good and bad, you chose to see the good in people, even the most wayward.” He singled out Tommy with a nod, Jack’s own protégé. “That’s not to say things were always easy. Far from it. If I had a pound for every time I fell out with Jack in the process, well, I’d be a rich man.” Zed laughed, joined by those around him. “Jack was human. He had his faults, just like the rest of us, but the way he went about his business, he was a quiet inspiration. He made this castle our home, a sanctuary from everything that was bad in this world. He showed us what was possible. He gave us back our hope.” His voice faltered, raising a half-full glass in a toast. “To Jack.”
“To Jack,” they repeated in unison. Zed swept the room, finally locating Riley in the half-light, standing near the entrance. She inclined her head, nodding at his thoughtful tribute. The hubbub returned to the marquee as each table resumed their noisy revelry. Zed wandered between the tables shaking hands with old friends. Anders grabbed Zed around the waist, squeezing the very breath from his lungs. From the light sobbing against his chest, Zed realised Anders was crying, refusing to let go. “He was the best,” slurred Anders. Zed nodded, patting his friend on the back. Zed signalled for more wine to be brought over. With a grateful nod, wiping a tear from his eye, Anders released him.
At the next table, Doctor Hardy, Gill and the professor were engaged in a lively scientific debate with their UN counterparts about medical ethics.
“I think you’ll find Doctor Wu’s results speak for themselves,” replied Hardy to Gill’s unheard question. “It’s remarkable what can be achieved when science is allowed a free hand, don’t you think, Minister? Immunity for the next generation really could be within our grasp.”
“I’ll suspend judgement until I’ve seen the data for myself,” replied David Woods.
“With more time and sufficient resources, who knows what else his team can achieve?” claimed Hardy to the muted nods from his peers. Perhaps Hardy was right, thought Zed. If they could set politics aside, just for once, pool resources and work together for the common good, they would make a formidable team.
“No one knows what happens next,” warned the professor, killing the mood. “It would be advisable, Minister, to avoid further raising expectations. Even with unlimited supply of Aflorinix from the UN, we still have a long way to go before having a solution that works for everyone.”
“But the graphs don’t lie,” responded one of the UN scientists in heavily-accented English. “Doctor Hardy is right. New cases are falling. There’s every reason to believe the current strain of the pandemic could die out and become less virulent.”
“Yes, but we still know so little about the virus and how it spreads?” challenged Gill. “Most outbreaks simply die out when they run out of people to infect. Other viruses go into remission, like swine flu did. Biding its time.”
“Meaning it might come back?” asked Zed.
“We certainly can’t rule that out.” Gill shook his head, “We never beat swine flu either. H1N1 simply skulked away, hiding in some animal reservoir, until the right conditions emerged for another breakout.”
“Or it may disappear completely,” countered the professor. “We might not see MV-27 again for decades, even centuries, as happened with Spanish Flu.”
“At least, by then, we should have a universal vaccine,” claimed Doctor Hardy. “Once we have access to the UN team’s research, we can pool our knowledge. Every day, we learn a little more. But the road is still long. I certainly wouldn’t get people’s hopes up, Minister, unless you want people to start tuning us out.”
“You politicians can’t help yourselves,” suggested the professor with a smile. “Forever peddling hope. Using every briefing to launch your next election campaign. How many times have we claimed to be ‘close to victory’?”
“Winston Churchill once claimed that we can return to the Stone Age on the gleaming wings of science just as quickly as we can glide into the next century,” quoted the minister, raisi
ng his glass. “We may have won a few battles but the war is never won.”
“Mother Nature has a funny way of reminding us who’s really in charge,” acknowledged the professor, with undeniable sarcasm. “Who’s to say this isn’t just another false dawn, like the last?”
“You’d have thought we’d have learned that lesson by now,” added Zed. “Pride comes before the fall.”
“No, we shouldn’t be too hard on ourselves,” soothed the professor. “The last few billion years has proved that evolution is rarely linear. Every now and then Mother Nature leapfrogs ahead. Sometimes science take decades to catch up. We all remember what happened with antibiotics. They became almost redundant. Pandemics remain the most potent force of natural change, shaping how we live, how we reproduce, even what it means to be human. Throughout history, pandemics have always cast a long shadow. Whenever we become complacent, when we lower our defences and start believing we’ve conquered disease, that’s when we are at our most vulnerable.”
“Earlier detection is the key,” claimed Gill. “Preventing novel viruses from becoming pandemics in the first place. I’ve devoted my entire career as an epidemiologist to that single idea.”
“Sentinel was always a pipe dream. You must see that now? Impractical in so many ways.”
“Doesn’t mean we should stop trying.”
“Let’s not pretend there wasn’t also a darker side to Sentinel,” warned Zed. “Unparalleled access to health data was inherently dangerous. It’s the reason Phoenix devoted so much resource into trying to hack Sentinel.”
“Allegedly. There’s no actual proof they succeeded,” challenged Gill. Zed was surprised by Gill’s change of tone, thinking back to their conversation about potential rogue programmes within Sentinel’s code base.
“Hold on. We all admit that the scientific models used to predict the spread of MV-27 were wildly inaccurate. Isn’t it just possible that Phoenix misdirected our response to the pandemic?”
“The truth is unknowable,” claimed Hardy. “They covered their tracks too well. We should look to the future. Synthetic biology holds the key. Our goal remains enhanced immunity for the masses.”
The Hurst Chronicles | Book 4 | Harbinger Page 46