Shadow Conflict

by Shadow Conflict (epub)

  ‘That was…’ He trailed off, not sure what he’d witnessed. ‘What were you doing?’

  ‘An old habit, nothing more,’ she said, rising to her feet with the ease and grace of long practice. ‘Do you need something?’

  ‘A few minutes of your time.’

  Anya glanced at her watch. They would have to get moving soon; there was much work to be done before the exchange could take place. But she could spare him a little time if necessary.

  ‘All right,’ Anya agreed. ‘Walk with me.’

  They steered a path through the man-made forest, heading generally northwards towards a long ribbon-like lake that occupied the central section of the park.

  ‘Today’s the day, then,’ Alex remarked as they walked along the shore.

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Are you afraid?’

  She thought about it. ‘No.’ She had worries and concerns aplenty, but it had been a long time since Anya had felt genuine fear. Maybe she no longer had it in her. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘Just trying to figure out if I’m the only sane person around here,’ he said frankly. ‘Don’t you even care that you might be dead by the end of the day?’

  Anya stopped walking and turned to look at him. ‘How would that be different from any other day?’ she asked. ‘Everyone dies, Alex. I am no different.’

  He opened his mouth to question her, to push harder for answers, but he knew her enough to know that none would be forthcoming.

  ‘You can still back out, if you want to,’ she said. This was no time for doubts. If he wasn’t committed, he had no part to play. ‘There is no shame in it. But be honest and tell me now.’

  Alex took his time before replying, genuinely thinking over what she’d said. Good – she wanted him to understand what he was committing to if he said yes. And for once, she really didn’t know what he was going to say.

  ‘As fucked up as this might sound, you’re probably the closest thing I’ve got to a friend these days,’ he finally said. ‘And that’s saying a lot, considering you once had a gun to my head.’ He flashed a weak smile, but there was a determination behind it that she’d been looking for. ‘That being the case, I can’t let you do this alone. I’m in, all the way.’

  Anya felt herself relax a little. She could improvise and make this work without his help if necessary, but despite everything, she was glad he’d chosen to see it through.

  She stared out across the water, feeling no need to say anything further.

  ‘I went down into your basement,’ Alex said. ‘And I opened the box you keep hidden down there.’

  Anya nodded slowly. ‘I know.’

  She’d noticed it when she’d been down there working out her frustrations on the heavy bag, and soon guessed the cause.

  She knew that was the real reason he’d sought her out this morning.

  ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’

  ‘Why didn’t you?’ she replied.

  He looked a little embarrassed. ‘I didn’t know how you’d react.’

  ‘But you’re telling me now,’ Anya observed coolly. ‘You might as well ask me.’

  ‘Ask what?’

  ‘Who those dog tags belonged to. Why there are no names on them. Why I keep them down there.’

  ‘Will you tell me?’

  ‘I will make a deal with you,’ she decided. ‘Ask me once this is all over. Then I will tell you the truth. How does that sound?’

  ‘What if we don’t live that long?’

  Anya laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Then it won’t matter.’ Letting go, she gestured back to the path they’d taken through the quiet parkland. ‘Come, we have work to do.’

  Chapter 51

  Washington DC – 5 October 1989

  The bars and taverns on Capitol Hill were regular hangouts for reporters in search of scoops, government employees and politicians looking to blow off steam, and anyone looking to trade information and political gossip. Tonight, however, Marcus Cain was here to do one thing only – drown his sorrows.

  Helped by a plentiful supply of whisky, he’d been doing a creditable job of it so far. Waiting until the bartender had poured him a double measure, Cain lifted the glass to his lips, inhaling the heady fumes rising from the potent alcohol. No need for ice or soda; he was taking it neat.

  The drink went down like liquid fire, settling hard in his stomach. Nonetheless, he went right ahead and ordered another. He needed it.

  It had finally happened. His impetuous adventure in Pakistan had been discovered, despite being called off at the last minute. Simmons, the head of the Agency’s Special Activities Division, had called Cain into his office that very afternoon.

  Unsurprisingly, the conversation had been brief and unequivocal.

  ‘You’re insubordinate, unstable, lacking in judgement and objectivity. You launched an operation into foreign territory without authorization, endangered Agency resources and personnel, and came minutes away from starting a war. You’re a liability, Marcus. A liability I’m not prepared to tolerate any longer,’ Simmons had informed him. ‘I want your resignation on my desk tomorrow. I can’t put it any plainer than that. You’ve done great things for the Agency, which is why I’d prefer you to go on your own terms, leave with some sense of dignity. If not, I’ll have no option but to call an official hearing. You’ll be destroyed and humiliated. That’s not what you want, is it?’

  What he wanted was irrelevant. Cain’s career was over.

  How quickly he had fallen from grace. Everything he’d worked towards had come crashing down. Because he’d trusted the wrong person.

  He should have hated Anya for what she’d done to him – for lying to him, for playing him, for pulling him down with her, yet he couldn’t quite bring himself to forget what they’d once had. None of that had seemed to matter. Together he’d felt like they could change the world.

  How vain and naive he’d been.

  ‘Rough day?’ a voice remarked.

  A woman had settled into the seat beside Cain – someone he’d never seen before. She was about his age, well-dressed, dark-haired and attractive, with a slender and graceful physique accentuated by a close-cut dress.

  ‘You have no idea,’ he said, taking another sip of whisky.

  ‘I can take a guess.’ Her voice was soft, smooth, her accent unmistakably British. ‘It’s a woman, then. Only a woman can leave a man with that kind of look.’

  Cain had heard enough. Innocent flirtation it might have been, but he was in no mood to revisit everything that had brought him here.

  ‘I’m not the kind of company you’re looking for, honey,’ he said, hoping she’d take the hint and seek out a more willing companion. With a body like that, it wouldn’t be hard.

  She gave a fake pout. ‘Oh, that’s a shame. But to be honest, that’s not the reason I’m here tonight, Marcus.’

  Straightaway he tensed up, alert despite his drinking. ‘How do you know my name?’

  ‘I know a lot about you, Mr Cain,’ she said, keeping her voice low so that their conversation would be lost amid the hubbub of the bar. ‘I know you work for the CIA. I know your career’s taken a turn for the worse recently, and that’s why you’re here drowning your sorrows.’ She leaned forward slightly, taking in the scent of his drink. ‘Laphroaig. Not a bad choice for that kind of thing, I suppose.’

  ‘You know your whiskey.’

  ‘I know it smells like paint stripper. More of a gin drinker myself.’

  ‘Then knock yourself out. But do it alone,’ he said, making to leave. Clearly this woman was foreign intelligence of some kind – hopefully MI6 given how much she seemed to know about him.

  ‘Don’t go,’ she said, reaching out.

  Cain looked down at her. ‘Take your hand off my arm now,’ he said, cold and menacing. Woman or not, he would happily knock her on her ass if she screwed with him any further. ‘Wouldn’t want to make a scene.’

  ‘Nor would I,’ she affirmed, showing a hint of steel beneat
h her refined appearance. Still, she let go. ‘I’m simply asking you to sit down, finish your drink and listen to what I have to say. If you want to leave after that, I won’t try to stop you.’

  He sensed that staying would be a bad move. There was no telling who this woman really was, who she worked for or what she hoped to get out of him. Nonetheless, his instincts told him to hear her out.

  After all, what the hell did he have left to lose?

  ‘Fine,’ he said, lowering himself back into the seat. ‘But I should warn you, if you’re hoping to recruit me to MI6, you’re wasting your time. I’ll be out of a job soon anyway.’

  The woman smiled. The smile of a poker player about to reveal a winning hand. ‘Wrong on both counts, Marcus. The group I represent is a little more… international. And as for your job, well, I might just be able to help you out with that.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I think you have potential, Marcus. And so do my employers. You’ve had some rotten luck recently, and I don’t blame you for drowning your sorrows,’ she said. ‘But this doesn’t have to be how your story ends. You can still do remarkable things, make the difference you always wanted to.’

  ‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

  ‘My name’s Freya.’ She smiled then, knowing she had him. ‘And I’m about to make your life a great deal better.’

  * * *

  It was ten o’clock in the morning when Cain’s phone buzzed, just as he’d known it would. He was ready for it, standing by the window of his hotel suite overlooking Frankfurt’s bustling financial district.

  ‘Had a feeling you’d be calling.’

  ‘Put Drake on the phone.’

  Knowing Anya would call off the exchange if she couldn’t verify Drake was still alive, Cain had brought him up to his suite via the freight elevator, making sure to avoid the hotel’s security cameras.

  Cain studied his prisoner for a moment or two. Battered and bloodied, worn down by fatigue and injury, he should have been a pathetic, diminished sight. But Drake was still standing unbowed, refusing to be beaten down.

  ‘It’s for you,’ Cain mocked, as he held out the phone and enabled hands-free mode.

  Flanked by a pair of operatives who were watching his every move, ready to stun him if he so much as laid a finger on Cain, Drake shuffled forward, limping slightly. His eyes were on Cain the whole time, burning with hatred.

  With his hands still cuffed, he took the handset, although it was a good couple of seconds before he finally spoke.

  ‘I’m here, Anya,’ he whispered.

  ‘Ryan, I…’ Cain could have sworn he heard her voice start to break, though she quickly recovered. ‘What’s your situation?’

  ‘I’m hanging in there.’

  ‘And the others?’

  Drake’s eyes flicked to Cain. Never had he seen a human as desperate to murder another.

  ‘Cole’s dead,’ he said. ‘Samantha’s gone too. She was working for Cain the whole time.’

  Cain could see now how deeply that loss had hurt Drake. Samantha McKnight had been his mole, his informant and at times his saboteur. Even if she’d ultimately proven unreliable and forced Cain to dispose of her, he would never let Drake know that. Better to let his pain and hatred fester.

  ‘I understand,’ Anya said. ‘I’m… sorry things didn’t work out as we planned, Ryan.’

  ‘They never do,’ Drake acknowledged. ‘We must have bad karma.’

  ‘How long do you think you can hold out?’

  Drake swallowed, raising his chin a little. ‘As long as I have to.’

  Cain had heard enough. Snatching the phone back, he gestured to his two operatives to remove Drake from the room. He wanted to be alone for this.

  ‘You’ve got your proof,’ he hissed, ‘now give me mine.’

  He heard some muffled noises as the phone was passed over, then suddenly another voice came on the line. Young, frightened, hushed.

  ‘Dad?’

  It wasn’t often in life that something could punch through the layers of armour, the endless plans and schemes, all the contingencies Cain surrounded himself with, penetrating through to the very core of his being. But Lauren was one of those things.

  ‘I’m here, Lauren. It’s okay,’ he assured her, speaking fast, lest Anya snatch the phone away. ‘I’m going to get you back soon, I promise. Are you all right? Have they hurt you?’

  ‘No, Dad. I’m okay. They’ve treated me well.’

  Relief rushed through Cain. A tiny victory in the battle that still raged around him.

  ‘I’m…’ He hesitated, knowing he didn’t have long. Anya wouldn’t give him much time, just as he’d given her little with Drake. But he had to somehow express what he’d ached to say for so long. ‘I’m sorry, for not being there.’

  ‘You couldn’t have stopped this—’

  ‘I don’t mean that,’ he interjected. ‘I was never there for you, Lauren. Not when I should have been. Even when I was around, I wasn’t there for you. I wasn’t the father you deserved.’

  ‘They’re listening in. They can hear what you’re saying.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ he said. ‘You are the only good thing that has come out of my life, Lauren. The only thing I somehow managed not to screw up. I only wish I’d seen that sooner.’

  He heard a sharp intake of breath – shuddering, strained. A young woman trying to hold her emotions in check.

  He had to say it. He couldn’t hold it back any longer. ‘Lauren, I lo—’

  A sudden noise on the line accompanied by Lauren’s protests told him Anya had just wrested back control of the phone.

  ‘As you put it, you have your proof, Marcus,’ Anya said. ‘Now it’s just you and me. Be in Berlin by 1 p.m. I’ll give you the final exchange point shortly afterwards.’

  Anya hung up, leaving Cain alone with his thoughts.

  Slipping the phone into his pocket, he closed his eyes and took a slow, measured breath, forcing calm and focus into his mind. Anya had chosen where to make her last stand. A few hours from now, they would be face to face for the first time in eight years, and he was ready for it.

  He’d been ready for a long time.

  Turning away from the bustling metropolis, Cain swept out of the room.

  Hawkins was waiting for him in the anteroom, expensively suited and booted, his hair neatly combed and his face clean-shaven. A monster in the guise of a civilized man. A monster Cain was soon to unleash.

  ‘What’s the word, sir?’ he asked, watching Cain carefully as he approached.

  Cain stopped in front of him. ‘We’re going to Berlin.’

  A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, the scar tissue twisting it into a cruel sneer. ‘I’ll have the boys saddled up in five minutes.’

  ‘Good. And Hawkins?’ Cain pulled the bigger man close so that he was speaking just inches from Hawkins’ ear. ‘No one touches Anya but me. She’s mine.’ His grip tightened as he allowed some of his boiling emotions to show through. ‘Understand?’

  He saw a flicker of something dark and dangerous as Hawkins began to sense weakness, but nonetheless the operative nodded. ‘Perfectly.’

  Chapter 52

  Anya had gathered Yasin and Alex around the apartment’s dining table, taking this opportunity to go over her plan one final time. After this, any last-minute changes or unexpected developments would have to be handled on the fly.

  ‘You both know what you have to do,’ she said, looking at each of them in turn once she’d finished summarizing the chain of events she imagined unfolding. ‘Yasin, you are our eyes on the ground. You will stay out of sight, watch Cain’s men and report what you see.’

  Yasin’s advantage was that he was completely unknown to Cain and his subordinates. His presence would arouse no suspicion. Also, he had already proven adept at moving stealthily in urban environments, and Anya intended to get him to the meeting point well ahead of time so that he could familiarize himself with the area.

&nb
sp; ‘No one will see me. You have my word,’ he promised.

  ‘When the shooting starts, you will leave the area of engagement and get yourself to the rendezvous point,’ she added. ‘You will not try to interfere, and no matter what happens you will not wait for me. Understand?’

  He nodded slightly.

  ‘I want to hear you say it, Yasin,’ she insisted. If she had any doubts about his intention to stay clear of trouble, she would leave him behind.

  ‘I understand,’ he said impatiently. ‘It will be done as you say.’

  Satisfied, Anya moved on to the next phase of her plan.

  * * *

  A dozen operatives lined the crew compartment of the Sikorsky S-70 transport helicopter, the civilian version of the Black Hawk, as it thundered towards Berlin at its maximum cruising speed of 160 knots. Several thousand feet below them, small villages rolled by, tiny cars dotting roads that snaked across the green fields.

  In the centre of the group sat Hawkins, even the most hardened field operatives seeming to shrink away from him.

  ‘All right, I’m only going to say this once, so listen up,’ he said, speaking over his radio headset. ‘We’re waiting for a final location, but we know it’s going down in Berlin. We’re vectoring in additional manpower to secure a perimeter, but we’re the tip of the sword on this one. That means it’s on us to get it done.’

  He glanced over at Riley, his young protégé, who had so very nearly worked her magic on Drake. He could see her eagerness, her excitement at the prospect of the fight, her burning desire to wreak bloody vengeance. She’d pitted herself against Drake once and come up short; pride demanded that she even the score.

  ‘We have one hostage to be secured,’ he went on. ‘Until I say otherwise, her safety is our first, last and only priority, so we do not move in until we’ve confirmed she’s in the clear. I’ll be real disappointed if any of you get itchy trigger fingers.’

  Lauren Cain was an annoying distraction. Riley wasn’t the only one with scores to settle today – Hawkins was eager to get his hands on Anya, but he knew Cain would show no mercy towards anyone who got his daughter killed. This situation required finesse and restraint. Rewards could come later, once he’d fulfilled his duty.