The Newsmaker (Volume One Book 1)

by Tom Field

  He felt pleased that he had told him of the high regard that he held him in.

  “But I don’t not tell you things because I am untrusting or because it is some ego thing, I don’t tell you things to protect you,” he added.

  “Protect me how? I’ve called a clean-up crew this morning, I know how many people you have killed and I know that you keep me away from certain conversations like at UKBC so what else is there to protect me from?”

  “Have you ever actually seen me kill anyone? Maybe they were dead when I got there?”

  “You know what I mean,” Lawson replied.

  “My point is that I’m not accountable to anyone, if some of the stuff we do ever got out, they aren’t ever going to risk dragging me out in front of a Parliamentary or Senate committee. They will just make me disappear. But you will have to answer questions and they will hang you out to dry,” Ward said.

  “I just sometimes feel that you don’t trust me, that’s all.”

  Ward pondered this for thirty seconds and then said,

  “You really feel like that, after all the times we have worked together and covered each other?”

  “Yes I do.”

  “OK. You can ask me one question and one only. I’ll answer truthfully.”

  Lawson was quiet for a few minutes and then said, “Really! You know that I am desperate to know what you asked Charlie and what he replied, don’t you?”

  “That’s two questions, I said one.”

  “And I want to know if you are who I have always thought you are,” Lawson said.

  Ward did not respond.

  Twenty minutes later they arrived at Wards house and Lawson had still not asked the question that had been offered to him.

  “Well?” Ward asked.

  “OK. What did Charlie write on the piece of paper that you gave him?”

  “Money.”

  Lawson looked confused and then dejected.

  “Don’t suppose I can change my question?” he asked with a smile.

  “I’m going back to the States tomorrow morning, but be available because I need you here to work this side of the pond,” Ward said as he opened the BMW door and stepped onto his gravelled drive.

  “Will do,” Lawson said, followed by a barely audible “See you soon Ryan Ward.”

  Ward showered and changed and then ate a brief meal. He turned on UKBC News to see the latest updates; Abbi Beglin was now reporting live from outside Westminster Abbey and he wondered how long it would be before she slept with Lawson. There was no further mention about working with MI6 but no retraction of the fact either. The report switched back to the studio and there was a ‘Terrorism Expert’ making all kinds of ludicrous suggestions. Where did they dig these ‘Experts’ up from, he thought to himself. The guy was clearly a text book ‘Expert’ who wouldn’t last five minutes in the field. He knew that this ‘Expert’ was a million miles away from establishing what was actually happening.

  But he knew.

  He knew exactly what was happening, he just didn’t know why or through whom yet. He picked up his cell phone and called Washington.

  “About time,” Centrepoint said as he answered.

  “Sorry, I’ve been busy,” Ward replied.

  “Progress?”

  “Some.”

  “Tell me where we are?”

  “I need you to get me home to New York first thing in the morning.”

  “You think he has finished in London? That didn’t seem like much of a devastation bombing,” Centrepoint stated.

  “I don’t think it was meant to be, New York is meant to be the big one.”

  “You are basing that on what?”

  “Angles.”

  “Angles, as in an approach angle?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Where do you think Fulken is now?”

  “He won’t be in the States for at least three days. He will go somewhere like Canada or Brazil first and then work his way in from there,” Ward replied.

  “Border control are on high alert, our people have an e-description of about five variations of what he could look like, we might get lucky and catch him before he goes underground in New York,” Centrepoint said hopefully.

  “That’s if he is planning to hit New York and doesn’t change it.”

  “You think that is likely to happen?”

  “Not if I don’t put too much pressure on the people I think are behind it and alert them that we are onto them.”

  “Who is behind it?” Centrepoint asked.

  “And also Fulken won’t want to change it. He will revel in the kudos of achieving his aim. He’s arrogant and that will be his downfall,” he said, ignoring Centrepoint’s question.

  “We are on high alert. This can’t go wrong. We have to work out where and when he is planning to hit and make sure we stop it. We can’t have any terrorist succeeding on our own soil,” Centrepoint said.

  “He won’t.”

  “What makes you so confident of that?”

  “Because the people behind this are going to tell me everything we need to stop him,” Ward said calmly.

  “Who is behind it?” Centrepoint asked for the second time.

  “I don’t know yet but I know where to look” he replied.

  “Then get looking quickly.”

  “I need some money placed into the access account.”

  “How much?” Centrepoint asked

  “A few hundred thousand dollars”

  “Why?”

  “To buy some information,” Ward said

  “Expensive information.”

  “You get what you pay for.”

  “It will be in their account within the next ten minutes,” Centrepoint said.

  “OK. Get the jet ready and text me the details.”

  “The jet is not available, you’ll have to travel like a normal person,” Centrepoint said, almost sounding pleased.

  “Great, more time wasted,” Ward said sarcastically, “Make sure Gilligan meets me at JFK when my flight lands and that he is assigned to me for however long this takes,” he added and then he hung up the phone.

  He then called Eloisa.

  “Hello?” she said. Just the sound of her voice saying one simple word made him feel happy.

  “Hey. It’s me. I’ll be home tomorrow. Are you free?” he asked.

  “I will make myself free, your place or mine?”

  “Either. I’ve missed you.”

  “Likewise Ryan. Are you taking care of yourself?” she asked.

  “Yes I am.”

  “I mean really taking care of yourself?” she said with genuine concern.

  “I always do Eloisa. You know that.”

  She seemed quiet, almost distracted.

  “Are you happy?” she asked.

  “I’m fine,” he replied.

  But he wasn’t happy. Every time he spoke to her he just wished that they could lead a normal life.

  “No you aren’t. I can tell by your voice. What is it?”

  “Do you ever get tired? Tired of all of the bad things we know and our commitment and duty to put them right?”

  “We do what we do. No one even knows we do it, but so many more people sleep soundly in their beds at night directly because of what we do so no, I never get tired of doing that for them,” she said, trying her best to reassure him.

  “It’s just that……..” he tailed off.

  “What? Tell me?”

  “Do you ever want more? I love you and hopefully you love me, but we spend so much time running around saving the rest of the world that we come a long way down the list in terms of our priorities.”

  “What do you want?” Eloisa asked.

  “Normality would be good. I would like to go to work and not have to feel sick to the stomach with anger and sadness about the things that I see people do. I would like to come home to you every night and play fight and eat takeout.”

  “Sounds good to me. We will have time for that Ryan. It won
’t always be like this.”

  “I know. I just had a bad day today, lots of nasty things.”

  “Anything you need my help with?” she asked

  “Anything you need my help with?” Ward countered.

  “The only thing I’m starting to resent is the people at work for the droplets they keep feeding me, knowing that I feed them to you. I feel like I’m using you and they me,” she said.

  “Don’t ever say that again or think like that,” he said, “We do what we do for the children, not for the suits you work with. That is what makes me sleep well at night, knowing that I am keeping those children from further harm,” he said firmly.

  “That came out wrong,” she said.

  “Eloisa, nothing you say is ever wrong. You share, you offload and I listen. It’s how we work. Why we are so perfect for each other. We accept that at this moment in time our fight is for others, not for us, but inside, we both know that it won’t always be like this. Our life will begin, away from all of this bad stuff, but at the moment, we are still the strongest to lead our respective fights and we both do it better than anybody,” he said with clear belief in his voice.

  “I love you Ryan. Hurry home.”

  She sounded happy again.

  “I’ll be there tomorrow. I can’t wait to see you. I’ll be at the apartment by lunchtime, will you be available?”

  “Try keeping me away,” she replied, “See you then.”

  “Bye,” he said. Then the line went dead.

  He threw the cell phone onto the sofa and got up to make a cup of coffee. He promised himself as he stood in the kitchen, arms resting on the worktop watching the kettle boil, that one day; life would be just plain and simple. One day things would be normal.

  ELEVEN

  The message Ward received about the flight home had arrived just twenty minutes after his conversation had ended with Centrepoint. He was to catch the four thirty am flight to JFK from Heathrow airport, an MI6 car would collect him at three thirty and as usual, he would skip around passport control and go straight into the business class lounge, where his relevant boarding passes would be waiting for him. At the other end the same thing would happen, but in reverse. Off the plane, into the business class lounge and a CIA escort would guide him past the passport controls.

  He had two homes in the States. Both homes were bought with the money that he took from the South African diamond mining family; one in New York and one in Santa Monica. It made him feel like he belonged in America. Having one home in England made him feel that he was never too far away from walking into his own place of sanctuary. Due to the vast size of the States, just having one place and being three thousand miles away from home in the same country, never sat right with him. His apartment in New York was where he felt more at home than anywhere else. It was in Washington Street, a neighbourhood in Brooklyn. More specifically, it was in an area that the locals had affectionately named DUMBO. It was a place that had provided the backdrop to a number of iconic movies; ‘Once Upon a Time in America’ being one of them. His apartment building was built from red brick, discoloured through years of industrial grime, but still retained a grace through its own simplicity, He lived in a sixth storey apartment in the building and when he walked out into the street, a glance to the left gave him the iconic view of the Manhattan Bridge and across the East River the skyscrapers of New York. DUMBO stood for ‘Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass’. It was an affluent area now, a long way from its questionable past, yet it still retained rawness and an edge. It also afforded him all of the anonymity that he craved and needed to be able to operate effectively.

  He was to be met at the airport by Sean Gilligan his CIA contact and support. Ward trusted Gilligan as much as he did Lawson and for the same reasons. He knew he always had his back.

  The main difference between Gilligan and Lawson, or rather the main difference between MI6 and the CIA was that Gilligan had less sense of fair play. The British still held on to their old beliefs of giving opponents a fair, fighting chance, whereas their American cousins were much more clinical and lethal and didn’t worry so much about rules. This same ethos was reflected in the way their politics operated. Political corruption in the UK was on a very small scale compared to the U.S. and Ward always believed that this summed up the difference between what he felt were his two countries of origin. He always thought that the Americans got it right. After all, the President of the US was always considered the most powerful man on the planet.

  Gilligan was a descendant of Irish and African American great-grandparents who had settled in America and built a life and family. He was strong looking; he had a shaved head, sparkling hazel brown eyes, and a constant half grin on his face that made him look like he always wanted to have fun; in spite of his six foot three frame that looked more like it was built to carry wheelbarrows and bricks. He stayed true to his heritage and was proud of the fact that he was of Irish descent. Something he had in common with Ward as well. Ward’s own mother was Irish. Due to the nature of his work he kept her identity well-hidden and he always called her from a payphone.

  He and Gilligan were cut from the same cloth, Gilligan just never knew it. America and Britain might have been Ward’s homes, but his heart also belonged to Ireland too. As the plane began its descent into JFK; he pictured Gilligan waiting for him in business class and just knew that the first thing he would see was his smile.

  New York

  As it was, Gilligan was waiting for him as soon as he stepped off of the plane. As he walked out of the door onto the jet bridge he saw a beaming smile.

  “Good flight?” Gilligan asked.

  “Must have been, I slept most of it,” he replied as they started to walk into the main building, “Have they briefed you?”

  “They have told me that you are aware of an impending attack on our soil and that we have a green light to do whatever it takes to stop it,” Gilligan replied.

  “And that sits OK with you? It’s completely off the books this one. Your job is to clean the mess up after me, cover my ass and do what you see fit with no rules.”

  “About time, I’m sick of you being the only one who’s allowed to have fun,” Gilligan said, his smile working overtime.

  “I want to go home for a bit and freshen up. Then you can pick me up when I call, and I’ll tell you what I need, and we can take it from there. This will be a round the clock job. You OK with that?” Ward asked.

  “Sure, it’s only my sons third birthday tomorrow, no big deal to the wife,” Gilligan said, putting his fingers to his head in the shape of a gun and pulling the trigger.

  “I’m sure he won’t mind when you save the day and get yet another commendation due to all the work I do. How many have you had now after working with me, five? Not bad for a glorified driver,” Ward said with a smile.

  “But a very good driver none the less,” Gilligan retorted. “So where are we?”

  “I’ll run through it later, I need to see someone first. Home please driver,” he said with a limp backhanded wave of his right hand.

  The journey from JFK to DUMBO took just forty minutes, which was good for just over eighteen miles. He stepped out of Gilligan’s sedan and said, “I’ll call when I am ready.”

  “Yes master”, Gilligan replied, “I am honoured to be in your presence,” he said before pulling away and offering the middle finger of his left hand as a parting gift.

  Ward put in the entrance code to get into his building and got into the elevator to the sixth floor. As soon he stepped out of the elevator onto the clean, beige carpet in the apartment block hallway, he instantly felt like he was home. He opened his door, walked in and his heart jumped as soon as he stepped into the open plan living area, as he saw Eloisa making coffee in the kitchen. She looked up and smiled. He looked at her for a long thirty seconds, neither of them speaking and said,

  “Can I tell you something?”

  “Of course,” she replied.

  “I sometimes get com
pletely lost in what I am doing and never think of anything but winning. But when I set eyes on you, I feel an overwhelming sense of missing you. Is it odd that I miss you more when I am with you than when we are apart?” he asked.

  “That all depends why you miss me. I’m a woman Ryan, I like to hear what you miss about me as much as the next woman,” she replied, widening her eyes in mock surprise, “So why don’t you tell me?”

  “How much time do you have?”

  “No more than three minutes because I am late as it is. I will be here straight after work this evening, so depending upon what you tell me now, how tonight goes is down to you.”

  He loved that about her. She knew how to play him. No falling at his feet or big hugging scenes when he walked through the door, her strength and control excited him.

  “So you’d better make it good,” she said. “Go!”

  “I look at you and I see the most beautiful woman in the world. From your long dark hair to your beautiful green eyes, I see perfection. I love your little button nose and your perfect smile. But that pales into insignificance when I list the things that make me feel extremely privileged to have you in my life,” he said, as he moved closer to her and stared intently into her eyes.

  “Such as?” she asked, with a fun, quizzical look shining in her eyes.

  “You are extremely bright, caring, kind, determined, loyal, strong, gracious, eloquent, sweet……..”

  “OK Ryan, I’m blushing.”

  She moved forward and held his head in her hands and looked deep into his eyes.

  “I love you,” she said, “You are my soul mate.”

  Then she kissed him slowly and with a tenderness that only two people who feel they belong with each other can feel. He felt himself getting instantly aroused. She sensed this and said, “But I have to go, I’m running really late,” and pulled away.

  He felt a wave of dejection run through his body and then she added,

  “Plus, as much as I want you more than anything in the world right now; I know that if I make you wait, tonight will be all about me as you will be so eager to impress.”