by Mark Arundel
‘What’s the history between her and Meriwether?’
‘Just over a year ago Meriwether was head of the Middle Eastern desk. He sat at the top table and many tipped him to become the next chief. Charlotte worked on that desk, too. She was his protégé, so to speak. They were very close. They are still very close.’
‘What happened?’ I asked.
‘He didn’t get it. When they chose the new chief, Meriwether didn’t get it. They gave it to his rival.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know. Who can understand politics?’
‘What did he do?’
‘He left of course. A man like Meriwether would never stay after that. He’s one of the wealthiest men in Britain. Did you know that?’ Obviously, he was rich, but how rich was not something I knew.
‘Where do I fit in?’
‘Meriwether has now devoted himself to ensuring C., his protégé, becomes the next chief. That’s what many people think, anyway. Your assistance with recent delicate matters has certainly not hurt Charlotte’s career path and don’t forget it’s Meriwether who pays for you. Her last promotion but one came as a direct result of the Tenerife thing. That I do know.’
‘How does Meriwether make his money?’ I asked.
‘I’ve no idea. Look, your employment is the reason for my call. I have sensitive information that indirectly affects you.’
‘What sensitive information?’ I asked.
‘They’ve moved me from my position. Did you hear?’
‘No, I didn’t know that,’ I said, although Charlotte had mentioned to me after the Casanova thing that she thought they would move “Billy” to a new post.
‘Yes, I’m no longer head of the S.T. outfit. Sanctioned terminations are now somebody else’s concern. It’s a sideways move and in many ways a better job. I think I got it because of my experience of working with the Special Forces.’
‘What’s the job?’
‘I’m heading the Whitehall office that sits between the military, mostly Special Forces units, and the Circus. It’s a bit like a liaison officer. It’s not the simplest of jobs, but it suits my background. I know many of the people on both sides so I’ll just get on with it.’
‘What’s the information?’ I said. Whether a conversation like this one with Bradshaw was helping my recovery process was hard to tell. I remained seated in the sand on the beach and intermittently closed my eyes and rubbed them gently. Swallowing a handful of painkillers would definitely have helped. I intended to buy a box the minute I felt steady enough to stand and walk.
‘On my final day in the S.T. office, I received a new instruction. I’m not sure that I was supposed to get it. I should have left the day before, but I stayed on an extra day because the new man was delayed while travelling. Anyway, it’s the target of the new instruction that’s important. Who do you suppose it is?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. My mood for guessing games was not great.
‘It’s Bartholomew Meriwether,’ he said. For a moment, I thought I had misunderstood. Perhaps my head injury was affecting my hearing. ‘Yes, an S.T. on Meriwether. What do you think of that?’ No, my hearing was fine.
‘Who would authorise an S.T. instruction on Meriwether?’
‘Exactly, that’s what I thought so I rechecked the protocol. It’s genuine all right.’ Bradshaw paused and I heard him light a cigarette and then draw deeply. ‘Someone wants him dead,’ he said.
This was not the best time for me to hear that Meriwether was on someone’s hit list. Not when my brain felt like its two halves had fallen out and were refusing to talk.
‘Why are you telling me?’ At that stage it was all I could think of to ask.
‘He’s your meal ticket.’ Bradshaw said. ‘And that apartment you live in is his. If Meriwether goes then so do they. I thought you would want to know. I owe you a favour, you know, from when you helped me out with that trouble I had.
Bradshaw was referring to the Casanova thing and the trouble was with his wife and him wanting me to kill her lover, which was not what I did by the way. ‘I’m not sure there’s much I can do about it,’ I said.
‘That’s why I asked you where you were,’ he said. I was thinking or at least trying to think. ‘Where are you then?’
‘I’m in Rio de Janeiro,’ I said. It was Bradshaw’s turn to remain silent. ‘I’m on holiday,’ I said.
‘Yes, I know,’ he said. ‘I heard.’
‘So, what can I do?’
‘You can warn him,’ Bradshaw suggested.
‘You could have done that.’
‘Yes, I know, but now you can do it.’
‘Who controls the sanctioned terminations, where do they come from, how do they work?’ I was trying to get my brain to think, but all I really wanted to do was close my eyes and not think about anything for a long time.
‘The Circus does of course. They come via an encrypted transmission that requires a unique code to unlock. Usually, they contain detailed information, specific instructions and have a preferred method of implementation. My job is, was, to administrate and manage the sanction’s successful completion. As you know we have a roster of operatives. A suitable man is chosen. He is then briefed fully and so on. You know the rest.’
‘Who inside the Circus controls it?’
‘I don’t know for sure. It’s most likely an entire top table affair given the seriousness and the importance, but I may be wrong.’
‘So, Charlotte would know about it,’ I said.
‘Yes, possibly, she’s known about them in the past. I really don’t know, but it’s likely. Look, I’m out of it now. It’s the new man’s problem.’
‘Have you ever had a sanction rescinded?’ I asked.
‘No, I never have. Early on I did think about that. I wondered whether after completing a sanction I might receive a cancellation, you know, “we’ve changed our minds”, but it never happened.’
‘But the Circus could stop a sanction if it wanted to?’
‘Yes, I suppose so, provided the new instruction, to cancel, followed the correct protocol.’
‘Why would British SIS want Meriwether dead?’ It was a question without an answer.
‘I gave up a long time ago trying to understand the Circus,’ Bradshaw said. ‘Who knows why they do the things they do? Sometimes, I’m not sure if they know themselves.’
I decided to stand up and see whether I fell over. ‘What method of implementation did the sanction specify?’
‘Nothing specific was stated,’ Bradshaw said. ‘With those types the preferred method is usually drug induced heart failure as, I believe, you are aware.’
Without responding to that I said, ‘When did you receive the sanction?’
‘Yesterday,’ he said, ‘and today I’ve been trying to find you to tell you. I spoke to Charlotte about five minutes ago just before I called you. You better call her. If I get any further information I’ll call again, but it’s unlikely now that I’ve left.’
‘How long does a sanction take to implement?’ Amazingly, I was still standing upright. I felt I had the dizziness under control.
‘It can take anything from a couple of hours to a couple of weeks or sometimes longer. Each one is different.’
‘Who’s the new man?’ I took a few slow steps in the sand without stumbling.
‘I don’t know. I wasn’t consulted on the choice and I haven’t asked about it. I’m certain the Circus will have chosen wisely. They always do. Listen, I have to go. I’m meeting my wife and I mustn’t be late.’
Stephen “Billy” Bradshaw ended the call and for a moment, I stared at the dark K106 in my hand and then I looked across at the bright lights along the strip. There were lots things I had to think about and lots things I had to do. It was important that I prioritise. Which one should I do first? I put the K106 into my pocket and walked across the sand towards the lights in search of a shop and a box of painkillers.
16
THURSDAY, 2
1:09—21:17
The assistant stared at me silently with a dispassionate expression that comes from working behind the counter of a Rio beachfront shop.
She bagged the two boxes of painkillers and the bottle of cold Coca-Cola and then took the money from my outstretched hand. Passing back the change, she looked hard into my face and then spoke to me in rapid Portuguese. My translation abilities were slightly impaired due to the passing lack of brain function so I just shrugged and gave her an apologetic smile. ‘You English?’ she asked. I nodded. ‘Look,’ she said and held up a vanity mirror.
My reflection had the appearance of a made-up extra from a film that contained in the title the words “living dead”. On one side, my swollen jaw was a deeply bruised purple. On the other, dried blood streaked down from my ear to my neck and drops covered the front of my “funk” t-shirt to macabre effect.
‘I was attacked by a dog,’ I explained and held up my bruised and swollen forearm as further proof. The shop assistant looked shocked. ‘It was a big dog,’ I said. I think she already knew that. I shrugged again, lifted the bag from the counter and left.
Outside, the beachfront was crowded with colourful hordes of evening strollers and night-time adventurers. I crossed the road and found a quieter spot beside a low wall. While tipping the Coke bottle and swallowing the painkillers I tried to decide whether to call Charlotte or Meriwether first.
The opening ring was barely complete before I heard: ‘Hello.’ The voice was hushed with pensive anticipation. Perhaps Charlotte really did care about me.
‘Yes, it’s me,’ I said. ‘I’m alive.’ The rush of exhaled breath through Charlotte’s lips sounded similar to the breeze across Ballycastle beach on an autumn morning.
‘Is Snowy alive?’
‘I’m fine by the way. Thanks for asking.’
‘Is he?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘He was the last time I saw him, which was almost an hour ago when I put him in a taxi with Grace.’
‘Yes, I know. Grace called me to say that despite freeing Snowy the members of a crime gang had captured you and, in her words, were going to kill you.’ Grace was right of course. Marsh was going to kill me. My fake Interpol identification had saved me. The last thing a favela boss wants is the problems associated with a dead Interpol detective. Meriwether had insisted I have the Interpol identification despite my reluctance. “A jolly useful thing to have I should have thought”. It had saved my life. Perhaps I owed Meriwether for that. ‘How did you get away?’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said.
‘I called back, but all I got was a local man who said he didn’t know anything about you.’ I had forgotten about Bruno’s phone. ‘Then I called Grace’s K106 again, but you didn’t answer. I kept calling.’ Charlotte stopped talking and I heard her breathe in. ‘I thought you were dead.’ The pause drifted.
‘Well, I’m not dead,’ I said.
‘No, you’re not.’
‘Charlotte, I think you better tell me what’s going on.’
‘You know what’s going on.’
‘No, I don’t,’ I said.
‘Grace runs a network of Brazilian spies.’ Charlotte’s voice had taken on the tone of a gunpowder plot conspirator crossed with a great aunt from the 1920s. ‘Snowy is a very senior national banking official and her jewel in the network crown.’
‘Yes, I know that.’
‘See, you do know what’s going on.’
‘Charlotte,’ I said, ‘why did you ask me to keep him alive?’
‘...because I believe the “scorched earth” approach is premature.’
‘Do you know what “scorched earth” means?’
‘Yes, of course, I do. It’s a military strategy for destroying anything that might be useful to the enemy.’
‘But why do you and Meriwether not agree on this? He was very specific when I spoke to him. He told me to kill Snowy.’
‘Agreement between Meriwether and me is not obligatory.’ Charlotte paused and then I heard a change in her voice. ‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘did Billy Bradshaw get hold of you yet?’ Her voice had softened and it made me think of melted toffee.
‘Yes, I’ve spoken to him,’ I said.
‘What did he want?’
‘He wanted to thank me again for the Casanova thing and to tell me that he had a new job.’
‘Yes, I heard they moved him. They had to I suppose after what he did. It was unfortunate because he really was rather good at managing the S.T. office.’
‘Do you have much to do with sanctioned terminations?’ I asked.
‘Lord, no. I keep out of anything like that.’
‘What about Tenerife?’ I asked.
‘Tenerife was something very specific as you know. I only involved myself with the S.T. office on that occasion because it was unavoidable.’ I considered whether Charlotte was telling me the truth. After what Bradshaw had said, it was likely I would be considering whether Charlotte was telling me the truth a great deal more often. ‘Now then, can you get Snowy and keep him somewhere safe until we decide what to do?’
‘Charlotte, Snowy is most probably dead by now. Grace has had him for a whole hour.’
‘No, I very much doubt that he’s dead. How would Grace have killed him? She couldn’t very well do it herself.’
‘No, but she could get someone to do it for her. She seems to know the right sort of people; people who are more than capable.’
‘Who are these people?’
‘Cutthroats,’ I said, remembering the feel of Marsh’s big knife pressing against my neck.
‘Cutthroats,’ Charlotte repeated with a hoot of amusement. ‘You’re not a pirate.’ Just then, the life of a pirate seemed very attractive compared to one I had. The lump on my head was throbbing badly. I gently felt it while I thought about washing the dried blood off my face and renewing my t-shirt. The painkillers were yet to start working and my jawbone still ached. I drank some more Coke and listened to Charlotte’s toffee smooth voice coax me back from my daydream of Caribbean islands and the Spanish treasure fleet. ‘Well, do you have any way of finding out?’
I had already given that some thought despite my brain running on “economy” setting. After risking my life to save Snowy, the thought of someone killing him immediately afterwards did not please me. ‘Can you track the location of a Brazilian phone?’ I asked.
‘What type of phone?’
‘The one Grace called you on, the one you called back. It belongs to a taxi driver named Bruno.’
‘I’ll find out,’ Charlotte said.
‘If you can, then send the location tracker to this K106 and I’ll see if I can find him.’
‘I’m glad you’re not dead,’ Charlotte said. I knew exactly how she felt.
I sat on the low wall dangling my feet, sipping Coke and waiting for the painkillers to kick in. My mind was on Meriwether and the sanctioned termination. Behind me, the brightly lit, noisy street contrasted with the black horizon ahead and the rhythmic hush of the shifting ocean. I rubbed my closed eyes and wondered why Charlotte seemed incapable of trusting me.
Lifting the K106 I found Meriwether’s number and called it. He answered quickly.
‘Hello,’ he said in a lively, noncommittal way that meant he was unsure of the caller’s identity.
‘It’s me,’ I said.
‘Ah, jolly good. I had almost given up on you. Grace told me that the last time she saw you a very big dog was biting off your arm. Did the brute succeed?’
‘Where is Grace? I seem to have lost her,’ I said in an easy way.
‘I really have no idea. She didn’t tell me and I forgot to ask.’
‘Have you got a number for her?’ I said.
‘She called from a payphone. Apparently, she’s lost all her phones and hasn’t got a new one yet.’ Playing chess with Meriwether was pointless. I would lose every time.
‘I wanted to thank you for insisting on that Interpol identification,’ I said.
>
‘Don’t mention it, old boy,’ he said in that English way of brushing off praise. ‘It came in useful did it?’
It had if saving my life was useful. ‘Yes, it did,’ I said.
‘Yes, I thought it might. Being thought of as an officer of international law can make a strong impression on some people.’ He was right about that.
‘From now on I won’t leave home without it,’ I said.
‘That’s very sensible.’
‘So, as I said, I’ve lost Grace and Snowy.’
‘Never mind,’ Meriwether said. ‘You can return to your holiday. It was inexcusable of me to interlope in the first place. Would you like me to make arrangements for you at an alternative hotel?’
‘What about Snowy?’ I said.
‘Oh, don’t worry about that. It’s all taken care of. You can relax and enjoy a nice long rest. If you require any medical treatment, I can have the new hotel organise a doctor for you. Dog bites can turn nasty.’
An evasive Meriwether behaving like a caring uncle was counteracting the painkillers. I actually considered not telling him about the sanctioned termination and dusting off my black suit when I returned to London. However, his fake Interpol identification was the reason for my continued breathing so I forced myself.
‘I have information that your life is in danger,’ I said without any preamble. I kept my voice neutral and professional. Meriwether guffawed, which was not the reaction I expected.
‘Who could possibly wish me harm?’ he said in a light-hearted manner. I would have thought the list was long.
‘The Circus has issued a sanctioned termination,’ I said maintaining my composed tone and using the name everyone else seemed to be using. This time, the response was silence. I waited. Eventually, Meriwether found his voice.
‘From whom was this information received?’ he asked in a resonantly sober voice.
‘Stephen Bradshaw told me,’ I said.
‘Stephen Bradshaw no longer works at the sanctioned termination office.’
‘I know. He received the instruction yesterday on his final day. He checked the protocol and it’s genuine.’ Again, the response was silence and again I waited. You never know how a man is going to react to news that the Reaper is sharpening his scythe. It was just so with Meriwether.