THE ANGOLA DECEPTION: An Action Thriller

by Dc Alden

  He held his breath.

  The gate hummed and swung inwards.

  Chapter Twenty

  When the lift doors rumbled open, a desperate Vicky was waiting for him.

  ‘Where’s Max?’

  ‘There’s been a complication—’

  She spun around and marched back to her apartment. Roy went after her as she crossed the open plan living area. She was moving quickly towards the mobile phone sitting on a glass dining table. Roy got there first. He snatched at it and held it behind him.

  ‘No police, Vicky.’

  ‘I’m not playing this game again, Roy. Give me that phone!’

  Her eyes were raw and bloodshot, and when she held out her hand it trembled. Roy guessed she’d probably spent most of the morning crying. So he lied.

  ‘Max is okay. I spoke to him. But we can’t involve the police. I’ve been warned.’

  ‘What d’you mean you spoke to him? Where is he?’

  Roy hesitated. ‘He’s okay, Vicks, that’s all I can tell—’

  ‘Where is he?’

  She screamed the words so loudly that Roy flinched. Then she flew at him, her hands slapping at his face, his arms. Roy managed to grab her wrists and spin her around, catching her in a bear hug.

  ‘Let me go!’ she cried, twisting and squirming in his arms. Then she was still, her breath coming in rapid gasps. ‘Let me go, or so help me I won’t stop screaming until the police get here.’

  Roy released her, picked the phone up off the floor. ‘He’s my son too, Vicky. I’d lay down my life for him, but we can’t call the police, because—’ He checked himself. If he told her the real reason he didn’t think he’d be able to stop her. ‘If we do, Sammy will never let up. He’ll never stop chasing us. Is that the life you want?’

  ‘I just want him back,’ Vicky whispered, and then she broke down.

  Roy held her as she sobbed. They stayed that way for several minutes, until Vicky’s tears were spent and Roy finally, reluctantly, released her.

  ‘C’mon, sit down. I’ll make us a coffee.’

  He flipped the kettle on and rummaged around the cupboards. Vicky perched herself on the arm of the couch.

  ‘So what happens now?’

  As Roy opened his mouth to answer a melodic tone filled the apartment. He saw the video entry system on the wall light up, a face partially hidden beneath the peak of a baseball cap.

  ‘I don’t know, but this man might be able to help us.’

  Vicky got to her feet. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘A friend. Buzz him in.’

  A minute later Roy was making the introductions.

  ‘You’re the man from the park,’ Vicky sniffed, squeezing her nose with a tissue.

  The big American swept the baseball cap off his head. ‘Frank Marshall, ma’am.’

  Roy made more coffee and they settled around the dining table. He spent the next few minutes telling Frank about Sammy and Derek, the blackmail, the airport plan. And about Max.

  ‘You’ve met him, Frank. He’s a special boy, vulnerable. We have to get him back.’

  ‘What is it you want from me?’

  ‘Yesterday, in the cafe, I wasn’t sure if you were telling the truth. It’s a lot to take in.’

  ‘I understand. And like I told you, I shouldn’t be here. I could get you killed.’

  ‘What?’

  Roy held up a hand. ‘Just wait, Vicks.’ He turned back to Frank. ‘After you left I went home. There were some men waiting for me. At first I thought it was the police, but then I realised they were the people you talked about, Frank. And they were looking for you.’

  ‘A hunter team,’ Frank said.

  ‘They scared the shit out of me. They had guns, radios, the lot. The one in charge was an American, FBI he said. He gave me his number, in case you showed up. Said you were wanted for all sorts of stuff.’

  Roy slid the card across the glass table.

  Frank flipped it over. Sat back in his chair. ‘Josh Keyes. Son of a bitch.’

  ‘You know him?’

  Frank nodded, slipped the card into his pocket. ‘He worked for me for many years. Makes sense to put him on the team. Tell me what he said.’

  Vicky’s fist slammed down on the glass, rattling the coffee mugs. ‘Enough!’ she yelled. She looked at each of them in turn. ‘We have to get Max back, that’s it. Nothing else matters. D’you hear me?’

  Roy held up his hand. ‘Take it easy—’

  ‘Don’t tell me to take it easy! I swear to God, Roy, if you don’t stop your bullshit and focus on Max, I’m going straight out that door to the nearest police station.’

  Roy saw the pain, the fear in her eyes. He felt it too.

  ‘Listen to me, Vicky. If you go to the police we may never see Max again.’ He turned to face Frank. ‘I need to know if it’s true—’

  ‘If what’s true?’ Vicky said.

  Roy ignored her.

  ‘I need to know if everything you said—about Angola, about Messina and the Transition—is true. I need you to swear it, Frank, because if it’s real then none of us can run, not until Max is back with us safe and sound. And if we don’t get him back then Jimmy’s death, your journey here, your mission, will have been for nothing. Or you can tell me it’s not real, and I’ll pick up the phone and take my chances with the law.’

  Frank stared right back at Roy. ‘Everything I said is real. You’ve got six months, at the outside.’

  ‘Are you married, Frank?’

  The American looked at Vicky, shook his head.

  ‘Any children?’

  Another shake.

  ‘I didn’t think so. Because if you did you’d know something about the pain of a child ripped away from you. If you did you wouldn’t be sat here discussing God knows what else because none of that would be important by comparison.’ She leaned a little closer, cuffing the tears than ran freely down her face. ‘My son has been kidnapped, do you understand that? I want him back. I need him back. That’s all I care about, getting my little boy—’

  Her face crumpled again and she buried it into her folded arms.

  Frank shifted in his seat, cleared his throat. ‘I know this is tough but Roy’s right, ma’am. Calling the cops will merely complicate things and jeopardise all your lives. Okay, so we get your boy back. After that you have to run.’

  Vicky looked up. ‘You mean from this Sammy person? I don’t care, I just want—’

  ‘No,’ Roy interrupted. ‘Whether we save Max or not—’

  ‘Don’t say that!’

  ‘You’re not listening, for Christ’s sake! Something terrible is going to happen. The people hunting Frank, they’re the same people who killed Jimmy, who killed all those people in the World Trade Centre on Nine Eleven. And they’re not finished, Vicky, not by a long shot. Millions are going to die.’

  ‘Billions,’ Frank corrected.

  Vicky shook her head. ‘Wait, stop. What are you both talking about?’

  Frank pulled his chair closer to the table. ‘Have you ever heard of the New World Order?’

  ‘Of course I have.’

  Roy screwed up his face. ‘Really?’

  ‘It came up at uni a few times. There were lots of discussions about it, conspiracy theories about totalitarianism and shadow governments, except they didn’t call it the New World Order. I think they call it the Transnational Class, or something like that.’

  ‘Transnational Corporate Class,’ Frank said.

  ‘That’s it.’

  Roy stared at Vicky with newfound respect. ‘How the hell do you know all this stuff? I’d never heard of it.’

  ‘You won’t find it in Nuts.’ She turned back to Frank ‘What’s all that got to do with Max?’

  So Frank told her.

  As he spoke, Roy watched Vicky’s face mirror his own reactions to Frank’s story; disbelief, doubt, and ultimately, a dreadful acceptance. She asked questions that Roy never thought of asking, about global trade agreements, the dest
abilisation of governments, hidden agendas. He recognised some stuff, names, newsworthy events, but most of it went over his head. He watched Vicky become animated, challenging Frank, forcing him to quantify his arguments. It was like watching two chess grandmasters do battle, but when it was finally over, when Vicky had expended her journalistic energy, it was clear that Frank had her in checkmate.

  ‘It can’t be true,’ she whispered. ‘They can’t do that.’

  ‘They can. And they will.’

  ‘That’s why we can’t involve the police,’ Roy said. ‘The investigations will tie us up for months. They might even involve social workers, and you know what’ll happen then. They’ll try and find ways to take Max from us—’

  ‘I get it,’ Vicky said, holding up her hands. She propped her elbows on the table, rubbed her face. ‘So, what do we do?’

  ‘We get your boy back,’ Frank told her. He looked at Roy. ‘Where is he?’

  Roy held out his palm, showed Frank the biro scrawl. ‘Sammy texted me the postcode.’ He glanced at Vicky, steeled himself. ‘It’s a travellers’ site, not too far from Heathrow airport.’

  Roy cringed as Vicky jolted in her chair. ‘He’s where?’

  ‘He’s okay, Vicky.’

  ‘Jesus Christ, a gypsy camp? Oh my God, Roy.’

  Frank raised an eyebrow. ‘What’s a gypsy camp?’

  Roy explained. Frank nodded, made notes on a pad. ‘Where’s the data? Is it safe?’

  ‘Here.’ Roy dug into his pocket, pushed the USB drive across the glass.

  ‘What’s this?’ Vicky asked, picking up the small black device. Frank told her. ‘Jesus Christ, Frank, why not go straight to the media, the authorities?’ Frank told her that too. She held it in the palm of her hand, like a precious stone. ‘We’ll deal with this later. Now, can we please talk about Max?’

  Frank Googled the postcode of the travellers’ site on his phone. He studied the map for several minutes, then addressed Vicky, ‘I’m going to need you to go out, make a few purchases.’

  ‘Like hell. I need to be here, in case someone calls.’

  Roy held up his phone. ‘No one’s going to call, Vicky. It’s turned off.’

  Vicky was horrified. ‘Well turn it on, for God’s sake! What if Max—’

  ‘He can’t turn it on,’ Frank cut in. ‘They’re monitoring his signal.’

  ‘This is ridiculous.’

  Frank rapped his knuckles on the glass. ‘This isn’t a game, Vicky. If you want to get your boy back I’m going to need your help. Whatever I tell you, whatever I ask, you and Roy must accept it without question. All our lives depend on it.’

  Vicky held Frank’s gaze for a long time. Finally she said, ‘Promise me you’ll bring him home safe, Frank. Just promise me that.’

  He reached out, squeezed her hand. ‘As God is my witness I promise.’

  He checked his notes, tapped a pen on Roy’s lifeless Blackberry. ‘Okay, right now Josh will be trying to reacquire your cell phone signal. The fact that you’ve shaken a potential tail and gone offline will make him highly suspicious. Vicky, I need you to go into town, where it’s busy, and switch Roy’s phone back on. You don’t need to make a call, just leave it on. Wait ten minutes and switch it off. They’ll think that Roy has a problem with his battery or maybe there’s an issue with the local repeater towers. It’s not unheard of, so it’ll add to the confusion. Then I need you to make some purchases and get back here as soon as possible. Roy and I will be going over the plan.’

  Roy raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ve got a plan?’

  ‘A seed of one.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound too reassuring,’ Vicky said.

  Frank smiled at her. ‘Trust me, it’ll be okay. Here, take this.’ He tore a page out of his notepad and handed it to Vicky. ‘And find a bolthole for the three of you. Somewhere out of town, a rental, a busy hotel, a place none of you has ever been before. We’ll rendezvous there in three days, when it’s all over and the dust has settled a little. Book it for a month at least. And tell no one.’

  Vicky looked horrified. ‘A month?’

  ‘Correct. Use cash and a false name to make the booking. And buy a couple of burners.’

  Roy and Vicky shared a look. ‘Burners?’

  ‘Cell phones, the throwaway type.’

  ‘You mean pay-as-you-go?’

  ‘Whatever.’

  Vicky pushed her chair back without another word. She tugged on an overcoat, stood in front of the hall mirror, checked her face, her hair. ‘I’ll see you in a bit.’

  Roy stood behind her, gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. Frank opened the apartment door and checked outside. Empty.

  ‘Remember, turn the phone on in town and not before. Wait ten minutes, then turn it off again. Grab the stuff on the list and get back here pronto. Piece of cake.’

  Vicky took a deep breath. ‘I got it.’

  Frank closed the door behind her and led Roy back to the table. They sat down.

  ‘There’s something you’re not telling me,’ Frank said.

  Roy was impressed. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘I’m good at this.’

  ‘It’s about my boss and this guy Derek. One’s been murdered, the other’s about to be. I didn’t want Vicky to know.’ Roy spent some time filling in the details while Frank asked questions and made more notes. ‘Have you really got a plan?’

  Frank put down his pen. ‘The primary objective is to get your boy. The secondary objective is to deal with the potential repercussions. After tonight, no one can come after you. No cops, no hunter team, no one. You need to be in the clear, be free to make preparations before the Transition begins. It also occurred to me that I could use this situation to throw The Committee a curve ball of my own. Does Vicky have a computer? A printer?’

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘Good. We need to copy that data. Now, what I have in mind is audacious. There’ll be no room for hesitation or compassion. People are going to die tonight, and you might have to do some killing. Can you handle that?’

  Roy’s eyes narrowed. ‘Max is all I care about. Fuck everyone else.’

  ‘That’s my boy,’ Frank smiled. He checked his watch. ‘Okay, we don’t have long. We need to go over a couple of things before Vicky gets back. The details may not sit well with her.’

  ‘Don’t underestimate Vicks. She’s tough.’

  ‘I get that, but let’s keep things simple. Now, pay attention…’

  It was another two hours before Vicky returned. She dumped several shopping bags on the dining table. ‘I got everything,’ she puffed.

  ‘Excellent. What about the phone?’

  ‘I did as you asked. It rang several times while it was on. I didn’t answer it.’

  ‘Good work.’

  Vicky emptied the bags out and Frank began picking through the items that spilled across the glass. He inspected the ski masks and torches, the compasses and dark clothing, the cheap mobile phones and several other items. Then he saw the Ordnance Survey map and spread it out across the table. ‘Beautiful,’ he purred, ‘exactly what we need.’

  Roy sat in silence while Frank worked, drawing lines on the map, converting distances on his notepad. He made several phone calls, some bizarre, others that had Roy and Vicky trading worried looks. Eventually Frank nodded and said, ‘this might just work.’

  ‘It has to,’ Vicky said.

  ‘Both of you will have to stay very cool. Especially you, Roy.’

  ‘I’ll be fine.’

  Vicky weighed a small canister of spray adhesive in her hand. ‘So what’s all this stuff for?’

  Frank ignored the question, spun the map around. ‘Okay, time for a mission brief. This is a detailed map of the terrain surrounding the gypsy camp. As you can see the target is bordered by woods and fields, a couple of farms, but luckily for us, the extended area is criss-crossed with several roads. Now, this is how it’s going to go down…’

  By the time the briefing had finished, Roy co
uld feel the fear bubbling in his stomach. It was obvious that Frank had done this before, and Roy wished that Jimmy were here to help them. This was his world, one of operations and tactics, and Roy wasn’t sure if he shared Frank’s confidence in him. Vicky, on the other hand, seemed focused. The colour had returned to her cheeks and there was a determination about her that made Roy feel a little inadequate. He was scared too. Yes, he would do anything to save his son, and if that meant hurting others, then so be it. But everything depended on him tonight; once the pieces were in place, the plan had a single point of failure, and that was Roy. The pressure made his stomach churn and the strength leak from his legs.

  This is the most important night of your life, he told himself. Whatever you do, don’t fuck it up.

  The sky darkened.

  Brake lights burned red in the heavy traffic. In the front seat of the Toyota, Roy pointed through the windshield. ‘There he is.’

  Vicky slowed the vehicle and pulled into the deserted bus stop in Staines. Frank, a black rucksack thrown over his shoulder, climbed into the back.

  ‘Go,’ he ordered.

  Vicky pulled out into the rush-hour traffic. Roy noticed that Frank had changed into his own dark clothing. The American rubbed his hands together.

  ‘Just like old times,’ he grinned. ‘Did you make the calls?’

  Roy nodded. ‘I phoned Sammy ten minutes ago, told him I was on my way to pick up Derek. Straight after that I called Josh. He grilled me but I told him my phone was playing up, that you’d called, wanted to meet. I didn’t say where.’

  ‘Good. What did he say?’

  ‘He seemed excited.’

  ‘Nice. Your cell’s off, right?’ Roy nodded. ‘Yours too, Vicky?’

  ‘Yes,’ she confirmed, glancing in the rear view mirror.

  ‘Did you recce the farm?’ Roy asked.

  Frank nodded. ‘I did.’

  ‘You think it’ll work?’

  ‘Mission confidence is high.’ He leaned over, laid a hand on Vicky’s shoulder. ‘Drive nice and steady to the RV point. While we do that, let’s go over everything one more time.’