by Tim Jopling
As he nodded at Salenko, who passed him backstage and began drinking from a bottle of water, Akira tried to keep his racing thoughts under control. The threat of Marraud had been neutralised but he felt certain there would be more to come before the election was decided. He thought over the possibilities and convinced himself it was a foregone conclusion that MI6 and the CIA would send someone very soon, either to watch and learn or to assassinate Salenko and destroy the growing movement. Akira turned his attention to his soon to be presidential puppet and vowed with all his heart they would not be successful, no matter who they sent. His moment of weakness with Marraud had been a one off, an exceptional circumstance. Madeline had been right all along and thankfully he had not failed her a second time. With Marraud now long gone, he was free to carry out his wife’s wishes to perfection.
The overpowering chanting and screaming from the crowd had now reached an almost deafening level and for Akira, it was all empowering to face the threat head on and stand victorious.
Burton was standing in the crowd that now surrounded the young mother and listened to a phone conversation nearby. A smartly dressed office worker was calling an ambulance. The development made Burton feel a little better and he glanced back towards his train and saw passengers boarding. I have to leave now, the boy will be fine, it’s just a kid for Christ’s sake and I’M LEAVING!
Burton shoved past several onlookers and made his way to the fringes of the crowd but heard one bystander shout out.
‘LOOK!’ The office worker glanced around. ‘Where the hell is that ambulance?’
Burton followed the line of sight and saw the child, who was now turning a life threatening shade of blue. Burton tried his hardest to look away but he couldn’t do it, no matter what he thought of. ‘Oh god…’ It was coming back to him now. Several medical courses flew by in his mind and he knew the boy was suffering from a sucking chest wound. Unless it was closed somehow, before Paramedics arrived, he would suffocate and die. Burton put his hands to his head in frustration as he closed his eyes. ‘NO! SHUT UP!’ He didn’t want to hear his thoughts anymore, which were constantly reciting medical knowledge. He grabbed the office worker by the shirt collar and pulled him close. ‘You have to close the wound! I don’t care how you do it, you have to close it and then he can breathe! Get over there you son of a bitch! Just close the hole and-’
The automated announcement for Burton’s train came over the speakers. ‘Platform 19 for the 12:38 Southern service to Barnham, calling at Clapham Junction, East Croydon, Gatwick Airport…’
Burton released the office worker and spun around in a cold sweat. ‘NO!’ As much as he wanted to run away, something he had done so well in recent years, he stood tall and watched passengers run for the train. Burton, a man who was once obsessed with dedicating his life to helping others knew in his heart of hearts he couldn’t board the train, not with a young child just inches away from death. Another voice tried to be heard in his mind, one that screamed at him to forget the problem and walk away but this time he simply couldn’t listen. He looked at the puzzled office worker with a face full of sadness. ‘How many times, huh?’
The man looked at him, totally perplexed. ‘What?’
Burton didn’t answer. He was no longer following his selfish desires and was now listening to the heart and soul of a good man that had slowly been corrupted over time. Corrupted by money and my own selfish greed. Burton heard the whistle blow behind him, the signal of the last chance of boarding his train but he no longer cared. Not anymore. Burton was all too aware that people had died because of his actions of the past decade, his quest for money had all but destroyed the man he once was but that didn’t mean he would let this child die as well.
Pushing his way to the front of the crowd, he knelt down beside the boy who was now barely conscious. The boy was only a little older than his own son, Oscar and Burton felt a surge of pride and pleasure that he hadn’t had in a long time. He was making a difference, something he had wanted to do all his life, before money and greed had gotten in the way. ‘Hold on son.’ He said quietly.
‘Please…’ The mother was sobbing uncontrollably but released her grip on her son.
Burton laid the child out on the floor and lifted up a blood soaked action man t-shirt. The sight was unsettling but he kept his nerve and worked away quickly to see what he was dealing with. Finding the wound with ease, Burton wondered what sort of animal would hurt a child of such a young age and began to look around for something to help close the wound. Finding nothing, he turned around and saw a balloon in the hands of another parent. He rushed over. ‘Can I have this please? It can help the boy!’
The young father handed it over straight away and exchanged a confused look with his wife, wondering whether the sweaty looking man would actually be able to help.
Burton grabbed the balloon and gave a quick look back to the crowd and the young Mum who looked distraught. ‘Hold on!’ He burst the balloon and placed the rubber over the wound on the boy’s chest. Initially, he tried to push it down, in an attempt to seal it but it wasn’t working. He thought back to his course and had an idea. ‘I need something to stick this down with!’
‘Here!’ Shouted an older woman, who rummaged through her shopping bag and handed Burton a roll of sticky tape.
‘Thanks, lady.’ Burton ripped open the packaging and tore off several strips, sealing the piece of rubber firmly over the boy’s chest. He made sure no air could reach the wound and placed him in the recovery position. Seconds passed as Burton put a hand on the boy’s hair and watched nervously, waiting for his work to take effect. ‘Come on, come on!’
The young mother held onto her son’s hand and sat motionless.
Burton didn’t take his eyes off the face of the young child and felt a surge of relief as he saw the blue tinge slowly begin to fade. He checked the boys breathing and closed his eyes with joy, knowing he had done enough to make sure of the boy’s survival. Tears were running down his face as he looked around to the young mother. ‘He should be fine now, you have to trust me.’ There was a commotion in the crowd. ‘Look, the paramedics are here!’
Burton saw the experts get to work and slowly moved away from the scene. His whole body was in a cold sweat but with each passing second, his heart was slowing down. A feeling he couldn’t describe filled every part of his body and hoped saving the life of the boy would somehow make up for all the mistakes he had made in the past.
Ferec had watched everything and had been impressed with Burton’s handiwork but knew his chance had arrived. He moved up behind Burton, keeping his pistol well hidden in his jacket pocket. Speaking in a perfect British accent, he flung his right arm around his target and pressed the gun into Burton’s ribs. ‘Hal! Buddy! Long time no see! You were pretty impressive there!’
Burton looked around but didn’t recognise the man and then felt the unmistakable feeling of a gun’s chamber being rammed into his ribs. ‘What the hell?’
Ferec never lost his smile and leaned in close. ‘Make a sound and I will kill you right here. Just act natural. We’re leaving.’
Burton looked terrified and glanced first to the exit gate and then back to the child, whom the paramedics were now attending to. The boy was already looking a far healthier colour. Burton made an effort to break free but was immediately restrained. He looked at the face of the man next to him and wondered if there was any way he could escape. I’m so close. I can’t lose my family now! This isn’t fair! ‘Listen to me’ He pleaded. ‘I can give you money, right now. Please let me go! Please! I’ll give you whatever you want, just tell them you didn’t see me. I have to get on a train! I’m begging you!’
Ferec looked at the pathetic face in front of him and felt nothing. He was holding his next kill and that was all that mattered; there wasn’t a force in the world that could stop him from completing his task. ‘Let’s get going. Don’t say anything.’
Burton was led away from the scene, totally drained by everything. An
overwhelming feeling of defeat surged through him and he could barely walk as the man led him away from the family reunion he would have given anything for. With each passing second, the fighter inside of him began to lose energy and soon enough, Hal Burton looked like a shell of a man as Ferec led him away from any chance of seeing his family or anyone else ever again.
Olsen gritted his teeth in frustration and shared a look with Jordan. The last few hours had met with stony resistance and Olsen was becoming increasingly on edge, feeling he was being insulted all over again by the man who had broken into his home and tried to kill him and his wife Rachel.
Jordan got up from his seat and started pacing the room. ‘For the last time; who are you working with?’
Bognor remained in his seat, gave no response and looked bored with everything.
‘You might as well give this up, your friend is dead and no one’s coming to get you out of this. You’re on your own here.’ Jordan leaned in closer. ‘You got no one to help you. So why don’t you help yourself?’
Bognor still gave no indication he could understand what was being said. In the hours since the interview had started, he had yet to say more than a few words.
Jordan cursed under his breath and then quickly slammed his left hand down violently on to the table. ‘Answer me you son of a bitch!’ He grabbed Bognor’s hair, pulled it up hard and screamed in his right ear. ‘WHO ARE YOU WORKING FOR?’
Bognor closed his eyes, said nothing and waited to be released, which came in due course. He straightened himself and went back to staring out ahead with a distant look.
Throughout it all, Olsen had been watching and his temper had slowly been rising to the point where he just couldn’t take anymore, it was just embarrassing to him. He gave a signal to his colleague and both men left the room.
‘Interview suspended at 20:17.’ Jordan said casually.
Olsen waited for his colleague and thought over his next move. As much as he wanted to deny it, he was pissed off. The prisoner was playing a waiting game and was assuming he would eventually be deported or charged. He hated rules and regulations and at that very moment, he could almost feel himself suffocating beneath them. This guy broke into my home and tried to kill me. If I hadn’t been saved, Rachel would be dead. He would have killed Rachel!
Just the mention of his wife seemed to instantly calm him and bring back pleasant memories of the last few months but Olsen deliberately pushed them away, liking his anger towards his prisoner and all like him.
Jordan appeared and eyed up his superior. ‘We’re running out of options, Sam.’
‘Like hell we are.’ Olsen gritted his teeth and knew Ramsey would hit the roof if he ever found out,] but in his mind, rules were for the weak and fearful and he simply refused to buckle. ‘I want a set of jump leads, some cables, wire strippers and some rope.’
Silence lingered between the two men before Jordan wrinkled his forehead in utter disbelief. ‘You want what?’
Olsen snapped back quickly. ‘We don’t have time to discuss it, just get me what I need.’
‘Wait a second, we’ve only just got back in the game here and you want to throw it all away on some low life?’
‘A low life that almost killed my wife today, don’t forget that.’
Jordan looked away for a second and thought hard about what he would say next. ‘Look, I might not have a wife but I can understand what you and Rachel went through today Sam, I really can. I just don’t want to see you throw everything away when it might not give us a lead.’
‘The longer we stand here talking the more time we waste. If we don’t get something out of this guy we’ve got nothing to work with.’ Olsen took a step closer to his colleague. ‘I’m willing to take the risk and I’m willing to trust you, just get me what I need.’
Jordan held eye contact with his team leader and felt more loyalty towards him than ever before. ‘Wait here, I’ll be back before you know it.’
Olsen nodded in gratitude and then focussed his attention on the man behind the door. The months he had spent with his wife, enjoying life and starting over, seemed a long way away now. Even his concern for Rachel, which had almost become a constant companion, was now sent to the far reaches of his heart and mind. Olsen didn’t want to admit it but he liked his anger and was eager for the challenge whereby he could break Bognor’s resolve by any means necessary and make a difference again.
Chapter 6
Wednesday, July 25th 20:30,
MI6 Headquarters, London.
The clocks chimed away slowly in Kevin Ramsey’s office. The musty atmosphere and sleepy lighting never changed, much to his pleasure. It somehow relaxed his state of mind and gave him the ability to make clear decisions detached from his emotions. The news of Hal Burton had pushed his ability to stay detached from events to the limit. Many questions were circling in his mind but they would have to wait for another time.
Dialling the mobile number for Olsen on his phone, he began to leave a voicemail, knowing the S.U.C.O. team leader was in the middle of an interrogation. ‘Sam, it’s me. I’m having a file sent down to you, regarding Hal Burton. Study the pictures, read the information. I want him found; assign the most suitable team member to this and bring him back here.’
Ramsey replaced the handset and once again pushed away any thoughts of failure where Burton was concerned. He brought his focus back to the present and reminded himself of his two main priorities; dealing with the imminent threat to the Olympics and sending out his best agent to stop Russia from sending the world to war.
In the long and winding corridor outside, MI6’s most experienced agent slowly walked along the marbled floor and forced himself to stand up straight. Over the last week, Thomas Deane had been feeling continuously run down and only yesterday had been told by his private doctor that he was suffering from glandular fever. Deane had initially denied the news and stubbornly told himself he felt fine but the last two days had proven to be a huge challenge. Not that he had done anything to exert himself. The exhaustion had been so extreme, he simply hadn’t been able to work and as much as he didn’t want to admit it, the journey back to MI6 headquarters had taken all the energy he had.
He put a hand to his neck and rubbed his enlarged lymph glands for the tenth time that day. Each time, Deane told himself they didn’t feel enlarged but once again he couldn’t deny it and admitted to himself that he wasn’t in great shape.
Arriving at Ramsey’s office, the secretary gave him clearance to enter. Pushing the steel plated door sapped more energy but Deane, a proud and stubborn man, held his head high and walked in with an air of confidence he never seemed to lose no matter what the situation. He eyed Ramsey up carefully, having known him for several decades and could sense his concern. Rather than waste time, he got straight to the point. ‘Problem?’
Ramsey raised his eyebrows and spoke in such a way it was as if he had conceded the orders he was about to give were unavoidable. ‘Isn’t there always?’
Deane sat down in the plush dark brown leather seat opposite him and felt glad he didn’t have to stand for a second longer. ‘It’s good to see you back at MI6, Kevin; you were away too long.’
Ramsey placed a red folder on his desk and looked up. ‘It’s just a shame that in my absence, a massive problem wasn’t dealt with.’
Deane knew exactly what he was referring to. For a second he closed his eyes and attempted to draw on his energy reserves. The veteran agent knew all too well that any operation would be too much for him in his condition but Deane was a patriot and a loyal servant to his county. How can I possibly turn an operation down? ‘We’re here to talk about Russia, then?’
‘Let me bring you up to speed, Tom. Over the last few months, the race to be the next President of Russia has changed dramatically. Whereas the current President is running his campaign on finance and the economy, Salenko is making sure he’s all about reviving Russia’s power and using it to change the world. Some might call it a hypnotic cult, ot
hers just powerful words and creating a passion for the country again. It’s got to the stage where we need to take action.’
‘What sort of action?’
‘Take a look at this, first of all.’ Ramsey handed his best agent a three-page report. ‘This is from GCHQ and in a nutshell outlines some worrying links between Russia and the Middle East. They have preliminary evidence of several arms deals and sharing of nuclear knowledge. Now, you and I both know that Russia has never been squeaky clean but in the last year especially, things have changed. Many of these links are new and are far more advanced than any of us were aware of.’ Ramsey got up from his seat and caught sight of the view from the window as he continued. ‘Before I received this report I was happy for us to monitor the situation, then I spoke to my opposite number in France and now I can’t hide away from this decision any longer.’ Ramsey handed Deane another file and chose his words carefully. ‘I’m sorry, Tom. It appears that Patrice Marraud was killed in Moscow just over a month ago. I only found out an hour or two ago myself.’
Deane looked up sharply at the mention of his friend. ‘Patrice?’ He took the folder and quickly flipped it open. Marraud had always commanded respect and Deane had given it to him by the bucket load, such was the man’s abilities. They had worked together several times in the past, the last time in London just a few months ago. Deane had witnessed the impossible from Marraud so many times, just the thought of him injured didn’t seem right but dead?
Ramsey closed his eyes for a second and then continued. ‘It seems he was working in Russia investigating Salenko and his campaign. We still don’t have the full details and we may never know the truth but one thing is certain; Patrice was murdered.’
Deane was now studying a photograph of Marraud’s body. Almost immediately, he put the photo back in the file and looked away. ‘Patrice…’
‘I’m sorry, Tom. From what we know, Patrice’s last report indicated he was going to delve deeper into Salenko’s supporting team and the links to the Middle East. The autopsy showed he had sustained several…’ Ramsey didn’t want to talk about his friend’s death in detail and decided to get to the point. ‘He had been involved in a fight to the death Tom, that’s all we know and it makes my decision easier.’