Traitor

by Duncan Falconer

  Jason came in for another series of punches and outmanoeuvred Stratton’s unskilled defences, striking him with several hard blows. Stratton lunged forward again but Jason surprised him with a vicious kick to his ribs.

  Stratton dropped to one knee in pain and glared at Jason. The scientist was grinning at him but did not waste any more time gloating. He came in with a low blow. Stratton moved back with it and grabbed the clenched fist, at the same time back-handing Jason across the mouth so viciously that it sent him back.

  Jason stopped to feel the cut that had opened up on his lip. He felt the blood with the back of his hand and broke into a grin again. ‘That’s more like it.’ His eyes narrowed and he looked suddenly dangerous as he came forward to get stuck in.

  Stratton stood against the door, poised to respond to Jason’s next attack. The idiot was serious about fighting to the death. Stratton didn’t know if he had flipped or what. The scientist’s issues clearly went a lot deeper than anyone knew.

  As Jason moved to prepare for his attack, Stratton heard something other than feet moving through the water. ‘Quiet,’ he said, his voice lowered, his eyes looking up.

  ‘Not going to work,’ Jason said as he tensed.

  ‘Quiet! I heard something.’

  Jason suddenly suspected that the other man might be telling the truth. He kept his distance but stayed alert as he listened.

  A faint clanging sound came from beyond the door. Stratton turned to face it, ignoring Jason completely.

  A heavy clunk was followed by the sound of an electric motor. A gear engaged and the door jolted. Bits of rust and debris fell from seams around the door.

  Stratton stepped back.

  The electric motor laboured heavily. The door jerked again and more debris fell from the hinges. The motor was beginning to sound as if it might fail when the entire door shuddered and then cracked open. The motor picked up and as the gap widened a bright light flooded the rock walls.

  The two men instinctively moved out of the immediate view of anyone who might emerge from the opening. The water rushed in through the gap to fill a space on the other side and when the door was open wide enough to let a man through the motors went silent.

  Stratton and Jason remained still, their senses straining to detect what if anything was on the other side of it.

  A gloved hand reached around the door frame followed by its owner wearing a heavy-duty one-piece boiler suit and waders. He turned on a flashlight and aimed it up at the sensor as he backed out of the doorway. Stratton grabbed the hand holding the torch, almost giving the man a heart attack. As he cried out, Stratton covered his mouth. The frightened man shut up instantly.

  Stratton released his grip and gestured for the man to stay quiet. He obeyed. Stratton stepped through the doorway into a brightly lit landing at the foot of a narrow concrete stairwell. His instinct suddenly warned him and he faced the steps to see a young Russian soldier partway up them aiming an AK-74 down at him. The soldier was as surprised to see the stranger as his engineer colleague had been but it did not divert him from his task. He pulled a radio from a pouch, put it to his mouth and talked quickly into it.

  Jason stepped through the door and raised his empty hands in the air. ‘Well, at least I won’t freeze to death. And you’ve been saved from an embarrassing thrashing.’

  15

  Stratton and Jason stood in a large room that housed several noisy pieces of heavy equipment. Their hands had been chained around a thick metal bracing, part of a steel structure that supported a large pumping machine. Two sides of the rectangular space had been hewn out of solid rock, the other sides were constructed from cemented concrete blocks. The young soldier stood on the far side of the room by a wooden door, calmly watching, his gun in his hands. Puddles of water had collected around the feet of the two prisoners. They had been there for over an hour but at least the room was warm and they had stopped shivering.

  The young soldier had made them wait at gunpoint at the foot of the emergency stairwell until half a dozen reinforcements had arrived. The response from the mine’s guards had been enthusiastic due to the novelty of such a visit. Every soldier not at a duty post had answered the call to action. They promptly led the bedraggled pair up and down several levels and through a labyrinth of corridors, their walls made of bare rock or brick, to the pump room, the nearest thing they had to a dedicated cell at the facility.

  The mine, or laboratory, appeared to be a series of interconnecting halls dug out of the rock. A hundred miles of piping and conduits of all sizes wound along the ceilings and through the walls. Some halls housed pumps and generators while in others sat collections of weird-looking storage vats and drums of differing sizes and colours. The entire place had a feel of decay, as though it was in serious need of reconstruction, with chipping paint, broken fixtures and mildew everywhere. At intervals along the connecting tunnels between many of the halls stood airtight steel doors like those in a bank vault, so heavy that they could only be moved by hydraulic rams.

  The wooden door to the pump room opened and Stratton and Jason looked up to see a grim-faced Russian officer in casual uniform walk in. He glanced at the soldier and then at the two Englishmen before stepping aside from the doorway to allow the man behind him into the room. Binning.

  Stratton and Jason weren’t entirely surprised. During the time they had spent waiting they’d wondered if such a meeting might take place.

  Binning wore a white technician’s coat and a smarmy grin as he put his hands on his hips and planted his feet astride. ‘Well, well, well. This is a surprise. I can’t tell you how stunned I was to hear the descriptions of the men they had found lurking in the tunnels. How the hell did you end up there?’

  Neither man answered.

  ‘I just know you had something to do with the helicopter that crashed almost right on top of us. I can’t wait to hear how that all came about . . . Major,’ he said, addressing the officer. ‘This is John Stratton, British special forces. And this is Jason Mansfield, my boss, or should I say former boss, from MI16.’

  The officer looked at the men with a hint of satisfaction in his eyes.

  ‘I suspect they came here to take back the tile,’ Binning mused. ‘Or kill me. Or both. What do you say, chaps? Does that about sum it up?’

  Both prisoners remained stone-faced as they stared at the traitor.

  ‘Major, would you be good enough to unchain this one?’ Binning asked, indicating Jason.

  A frown formed on the officer’s brow. ‘By what authority?’ he asked.

  ‘Can I remind you I have been given the equivalent rank of lieutenant colonel? Okay, it’s not yet official but that’s just a matter of procedure.’

  The major still didn’t move.

  Binning sighed. ‘Major, all I have to do is make a phone call and someone whose rank you do respect will simply order you to do it. Now do we have to go through all of that, and get someone annoyed with you? You have guards, you have guns. He doesn’t. Just do it, please.’

  The officer gave a brief order to the soldier who handed him his weapon and walked over to Jason Mansfield. He took a key from his pocket and unlocked the padlock connecting the chains that secured Jason to the bracing.

  The chains dropped to the concrete floor and Jason rubbed his wrists where the metal had chafed them. He looked into Binning’s cold eyes as the man walked slowly towards him.

  ‘A few tense and interesting moments but we got there in the end,’ Binning said, his face cracking into a broader smile.

  Mansfield’s face broke into a matching grin and the two men embraced, hugging each other strongly as they laughed heartily.

  ‘You look well,’ Binning said, moving back to take a look at Jason. ‘Bit cold and wet but in good shape, considering.’

  ‘You have no idea,’ Jason said. ‘I tell you, there’s the easy way of doing things and then there’s Stratton’s way. Dear God, it was utter madness at times. Between that damned platform and getting here I th
ink I used up all my spare lives.’

  ‘Let’s get you a change of clothes and a hot meal.’

  ‘Tell me you had the decency to procure a fine malt,’ Jason said, taking a step with Binning towards the door.

  ‘Part of the deal, old boy.’

  They both laughed out loud as they walked.

  Halfway across the room Jason stopped to look back at Stratton. ‘Shocked, Stratton?’

  The operative was stunned but did not show it.

  ‘Come on, man. Say something. Your face is almost worth the whole caper.’

  ‘You’ve been planning this a long time, I suppose,’ Stratton said.

  ‘A couple of years. It was complicated. Binning and I play three-dimensional chess. We’re practically unbeatable. This was every bit as complex. You see, it’s all about calculating the opponent’s next move in respect of yours and then his next, and yours and so on. We must have gone to about twenty moves ahead,’ he said, looking at Binning for acknowledgement.

  Binning raised his eyes in appreciative agreement.

  ‘Who were your opponents?’ Stratton asked.

  ‘London.Your people. Never saw that damned helicopter coming, though. But then, that’s why we chose you. One of the more interesting aspects of the plan. We needed one of the best to get us through the tougher physical issues. You were perfect. Thank you.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You wouldn’t understand. Something beyond your paltry intelligence’s ability to grasp. In simple terms, the Russians could give me what our side wouldn’t. Head of MI16 was all I was ever going to be. A brain for hire. The Russians offered me power, and business opportunities.’

  ‘Money?’

  ‘That’s a given. This plan alone is evidence of our genius. I have to admit there were a few times when I thought it was perhaps a little too ambitious. You see, it wasn’t just about handing over the tile - you’ll notice I said “handing over” as opposed to stealing it: it belonged to us, the copyright is a minor issue. But the essence of the plan was about succeeding without London knowing of my involvement. You see, I’m going back. My handover’s not quite complete. There’s more to be had.’

  ‘Your recording device at Sevastopol wasn’t faulty, you’ll be relieved to know,’ Binning said.

  ‘You needed to discredit me to allow you to do the job and complete the arrangements with the Inessa,’ Stratton said.

  ‘And then get you to MI16 in order to carry out the platform task,’ Jason added.

  ‘Chaz never brought anything into the airlock,’ Stratton surmised.

  ‘No. I thought we’d blown it trying to get the helicopter to drop us off with the mini-sub. That was a big hurdle, London allowing us to continue to the platform. Once again you tipped the scales in our favour.’

  ‘Jordan was Jason’s idea,’ Binning said proudly. ‘A real stroke of genius, on top of superb analysis.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Jason said to his friend. ‘It was all about finding the right pieces and then fitting them together. Much the same thing we do every day with our designs,’ Jason bragged. ‘It was a complex mathematical problem. That’s how we laid it out in the theory room.’

  ‘Was destroying the platform a part of it?’

  Jason smirked. ‘Of course, we have partners who have interests of their own that they threw into the calculation. I understand the owners needed the insurance money. London has its suspicions about that but it doesn’t affect our operation.’

  ‘The Russian government is in on this?’ Stratton asked.

  ‘Elements are aware, of course. Sumners was quite correct. But at the end of the day it’s a matter of all’s fair in love and espionage. There are winners and there are losers.’

  ‘And Rowena?’ Stratton asked.

  Jason smiled. ‘A pawn, like you. She’s being kept in another part of the complex. I need her for the next stage of the plan. You see, you die. I succeed in our task. I go back to London with Rowena, who will think I rescued her. Her innocence will improve my credibility. I will of course say wonderful things about you, and probably more wonderful things about myself. That’s the advantage of winning, Stratton.’ Jason came closer to the operative to look deeper into his eyes. ‘I wish we’d finished that fight. It would have been a perfect climax. The great John Stratton. Beaten by a civvy.’ He chuckled. ‘You’ve never come up against anyone like me before. Rowena was right about you. You’ve always been lucky. But brilliance doesn’t need luck. In fact, I can’t afford it.’

  Jason lingered long enough to gloat before turning away.

  ‘Jason,’ Stratton called out.

  Mansfield paused at the door to look back at him.

  ‘I was right about you. You are a wanker.’

  ‘We won’t be seeing each other again,’ Mansfield said, continuing through the door. ‘I’m going to insist they get rid of you right away. Chain him up well, Major,’ he shouted. ‘He’s very lucky.’

  Binning took a moment to look back at Stratton, his grin apparently ineradicable. He raised his eyebrows as if to say ‘That’s life’, and padded after his boss.

  Before he followed the others, the major glanced at the guard in a way that conveyed his need to remain alert.

  Stratton stood there in stunned silence. This was a bloody mess. He slid the chains down the bracket, sat on the wet floor and went over the situation. One aspect of it had apparently changed. He wouldn’t be spending years in a Russian jail after all.

  Stratton remained where he was for many hours. At one point he drifted off to sleep, the long hours and violent events of the day getting the better of him, despite the grim prospect of his impending end. He woke up at one point after hearing a sound close by only to discover that it was the young guard holding a cup of water out to him. Stratton drank it as the man held the cup.

  During his conscious moments, Stratton considered every possible avenue of escape, one of which included getting back down into the emergency tunnel and taking his chances with the vertical shaft. But no matter what he came up with, while he was chained so heavily to the bracket and with a guard seated at the door holding a gun and watching him, the opportunity for any kind of escape attempt looked highly unlikely.

  He had no accurate sense of the passing time and how long he had dozed off for. The only clue that it had been several hours since his capture was that his clothes had practically dried on him. The lights remained the same and the only sound was the constant hum of machinery. After another period of pondering a variety of dead ends he fell back into a fitful half-sleep, his bottom aching on the cold concrete floor, his back uncomfortable against the rock wall, his wrists chafing against his chains, his bruises and burns combining with the other pains and discomforts.

  As Stratton dozed he was distantly aware that the lights had gone out and although he heard the door open it was not enough to drag him fully out of his slumber. Even the sound of a dull thud followed by the clatter of something metallic on the concrete floor came like a distant echo and could easily have been part of a dream. But something deep inside his mind called to him to wake up and it was eventually a rush of fear that startled him into consciousness.

  He opened his eyes to a room in near darkness, the only light coming through the open door and from the glowing bulbs on the pumping machine’s control panel. A figure crouched by another that was lying on the floor. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light Stratton realised the guard was lying prone and the other figure was searching his pockets.

  The figure stood up and walked towards him. The red and green lights on the machine beside him revealed its identity: Rowena, in a boiler suit a few sizes too large for her. She crouched beside him, holding a couple of keys.

  ‘Are you injured?’ she asked calmly as she tried the first key in the lock.

  ‘No,’ Stratton replied, getting to his knees.

  ‘That’s good. I suspect we’re going to have to run at some point. And maybe more than that.’

  He could only stare
at her as she fitted the next key and twisted it in the lock that then popped open. He removed the chains and got to his feet.

  She stood up in front of him, looking into eyes that were full of questions. ‘I always suspected Jason,’ she said. ‘Not of being a traitor, though. A woman knows when a man is hiding something from her. I thought he was cheating on me. But my digging only led to him and Binning. I even wondered if they were gay. I was almost relieved when I found out. Female ego.’

  ‘How long have you known?’

  ‘Couple of hours. I thought you’d all perished with the platform. I watched it sink from the lifeboat. Then the Russian mini-sub arrived and took us away. I’ve been here a week, kept in an office with a bunk bed.’

  ‘How did you get to me?’ Stratton asked as he walked over to check on the young guard.

  ‘I wasn’t always a scientist.’

  Stratton glanced at her, remembering what Jason had said about her.

  ‘I did a selection course for a military undercover unit. I got pulled out after I finished it. We covered hostage situations,’ she explained. ‘I learned a few things. From the moment they took me from Binning I played the pathetic frightened child.’

  ‘That must have been a challenge.’

  Rowena was not offended by the remark.

  The young guard remained unconscious but Stratton decided he would live.

  ‘The guards took to locking me in the office. They felt sorry for me and stopped checking on me every few hours. After a couple of days I only saw them at mealtimes. I worked out how to pick the door lock open as well as how to relock it. At night I had a look around. I found diagrams of this place, inventories, files.They still have literally tons of chemical and biological concoctions here.’

  Stratton picked up the guard’s AK-74, checked it was ready to fire and went to the door to look into the empty corridor.

  ‘Today I heard voices outside the room. It was the laughter I recognised. I couldn’t believe it was them together again. That’s when it all began to make sense. Their conspiratorial meetings. The things I thought were strange. They went into a nearby room. I rigged the intercom phone so I could listen in.’