by Geoff Wolak
‘So these conspirators are not all powerful,’ Dennet noted.
‘No, sir, but recently they told the CIA to stop investigating, so they have some real power in some quarters.’
‘Jesus,’ the Air Commodore let out. ‘If they can tell the CIA to stop investigating, they can do anything. And those French officers who tried to kill you were under their influence as well.’
‘They’re only human, sir, and they make mistakes, and my teams are very good at what they do. We are making progress.’
I took in their faces. ‘Gentlemen, if you discuss this in the wrong company it will harm your careers and could see you and your families in danger. And by the wrong company I mean politicians, Lords and peers, the JIC, the oversight committees, the rich bankers in London.
‘So if any of you have contact with someone like that, you need to be careful what you say and what you hint at, because it’s easy to arrange a heart attack from a drug, very easy, and no one will be investigating. Men of your ages have heart attacks all the time.’
They exchanged worried looks.
‘And keep in mind that the oil in West Africa is worth ten times what the city of London makes in a year, trillions of pounds, and some powerful people want at it – any which way. By being here, gentlemen, you’re harming my investigation and risking exposure to the media, and we don’t want that.
‘What I want, what I need, is time to run the investigation and to deal with the foot soldiers here and in Africa. If you make loud noises you’ll harm that investigation, and then … they win.’
‘And when the foot soldiers are dealt with?’ Dennet asked.
‘If all of your staff were dead or in prison, sir, would you have the confidence to keep going with some dodgy scheme?’
‘No, I’d be isolated and worried, just me answering the phone and making the tea. And if some of their trusted aides were in custody they’d be shitting themselves.’
I told him, ‘When the Prime Minister has evidence against them, he whispers a quiet word in the right ear and that man retires quietly, no court case. That’s my plan: to hit the foot soldiers, gain the evidence, a quiet word to those above – resign now or go to jail. Some have already resigned.’
I faced Chorlton. ‘A few years ago I unearthed a senior officer who had murdered a rent boy.’ His eyes widened. ‘I had a quiet word, that man quit the Army. Would you have preferred a public court case, sir?’
‘Hell no, not for something like that.’
‘Definitely not,’ the Air Commodore put in. ‘Might seem odd, and illegal, but we have the reputation of the military to consider, not to be tarnished by one individual. Same for the politicians and the city of London, is what you’re saying, to quietly remove people, retired off rather than a very public court case.’
Dennet nodded, looking resigned to a course of action – of doing very little. ‘Best kept quiet, yes.’
I told them, ‘Mi5 as an institution is not to blame for five or six sneaky shits, you’re not to blame for one bad army officer, and this nation should not be tarnished for a dozen idiots running amok.’
Dennet heaved a sigh. ‘You have my support.’
‘Mine too,’ came from the Air Commodore, the others nodded solemnly.
Bradley loudly and angrily put in, ‘I served sixteen years, and I leave knowing that I tried my best, head held high, but what I’ve seen these past few years leaves me sick to my stomach. You could not pay me enough to want to go on, and fuck knows how Wilco does it. When I go home I dare not tell my wife what I know, what I’ve seen and heard. This is no way to end a fucking career!’
I faced him. ‘I’m going to get them, all of them, piece by piece, for the good of the nation. And there are things going on that you don’t see, people helping me, and we’ve cost them billions. They’re going to regret taking on the system.’
I faced the visitors. ‘Today the US Navy bombed a rebel camp in Guinea at my request, that camp funded by the conspirators, and men and weapons don’t come cheap. When the US Navy bombs your hobby army you sit up and worry a great deal, so we are striking back at them and hurting them in the pocket.’
‘You need more security here?’ Clifford asked.
‘If this base is secure they’ll just wait till we drive outside. You can’t secure the entire nation, sir.’
‘Perhaps you best not go someplace alone,’ Dennet complained. ‘Like Paris.’
‘In hindsight, sir, I agree. I’ll take someone next time.’
They asked questions of Sierra Leone and the threat, a look at the map board, Major Sanderson spoken to about resources and supplies, questions about other units training here, and they left sounding a little more like normal Army officers – and not the Spanish Inquisition.
The next day brought a downpour of late summer rain, people driving from one part of the base to the other, men seen with umbrellas, a few people getting caught out. Rocko was utilising a bright yellow golf umbrella that said, ‘Make tea not war!’
The MPs were hiding from the rain inside the hangar mouth, so I was not surprised to find a sheep stood there looking out at the rain. It had gotten in as the fence was being put up and now could not find the way back out, none of the lazy MPs dragging it out under arrest.
At 11am Tinker approached me with a printout. ‘Burgess has been arrested, questioned, charged and released, court date to follow. Press have the story. And he has some swanky solicitors, very expensive, all charges denied.’
I called Max and asked him to head down to Sierra Leone to follow-up the Burgess story.
‘Why, what the frig does that fat fucker have to do with anything?’
‘He run’s mercenaries in West Africa, the kinds that attack my men…’
‘Ah. I’m on it.’
‘Tell your boss you’ll pay your own return flight.’
‘I will?’ he protested.
‘I’ll sort the cash for you, nice hotel – if there is one.’
‘About time you spoilt me.’
Bob called after lunch. ‘There’s a massive thunder storm about to hit the Antwerp area.’
‘Are we … talking metaphors here?’
‘Both. We await the news, the storm being a good opportunity.’
‘Wet here as well, how’s it down there?’
‘Glorious, I get no more than thirty days overcast a year.’
‘Sounds nice. Oh, those French nudist beaches. Do you...?’
‘Yes, often, all over tan.’
‘I think I’d have issues with my dangly bits swaying in the wind, hot ladies walking past.’
‘There are many hot ladies on the beach yes. The other day I was chatting to a lady doctor from Sweden about her father’s SOE activities in Norway.’
‘So … you were more interested in the history than her?’
‘Well…’
At 4pm Tinker came running. ‘The Belgian news is reporting shots fired at the bank in Antwerp.’
‘Sounds like they pissed someone off, but all my men are accounted for, rifles in the armoury. Get me any detail released.’
At 6pm Tinker found me in the canteen and led me outside, but at least it had stopped raining. ‘Windows were shot out, that we know, but Belgian TV is reporting all ATMs shut down, bank branches having put up signs – closed till further notice.’
‘I guess that – for a bank – that would not be a good thing.’
He smiled widely. ‘You’re fucking right it wouldn’t be a good thing. For a bank.’
At 9pm, sat at home with Sasha and Henri again, a take-away curry enjoyed, Bob Staines called. ‘Hey No.1,’ I began in Russian.
‘Seen the news?’
‘They reported a storm over Antwerp.’
‘Indeed, it poured with rain so they say, and when our man broke the windows the computer room got a force ten gale and some water. He shot up the mainframes, and they caught fire.
‘He was briefed on the second and third buildings, saw the high windows and
shot them out, hit the servers in there as well, fires started, sixty teflon rounds used up in total. All ATMs for them worldwide are down, branches closed, computers showing database errors. That’s around ten million Dutch customers, a million in Belgium, two million in France, double that in Africa.’
‘Did he get away OK?’
‘Almost lost him. The second driver pulled a gun on him, but our man did well and killed the driver, drove himself and the body, body dumped in a canal. Looks like a clean getaway, and we have people in Interpol to let us know who’s looking for our man – and what they have on him.’
‘So … their people are looking hard for our people. That’s to be expected – but a worry. We’ll need to be more careful. Send our man on holiday for a month, with some extreme double-back checks.’
‘I’m sure he’ll welcome some sandy beaches. I’ll tip him some extra cash.’
‘And the rifle?’
‘Stripped down, parts thrown into a deep muddy canal, get-away vehicle and its driver in a deep muddy canal. The one wrinkle was a guard in the apartment complex, now a bit dead.’
‘Casualties of war, I’m afraid. And more to come.’
David called next. ‘The European Union and the central bank is stepping in to save the Antwerp Bank, emergency funding and cross banking so that its customers can use other banks. The fires they suffered are being labelled as a terrorist attack, a far reaching enquiry underway, a request for information out to all European intelligence agencies already.’
‘Are thy shut down?’
‘They are as far as the domestic banking goes, but most of their customers were small and large businesses – those businesses now unable to pay online or to draw cash, so it’s a serious mess. The investment side will not be affected, and ownership of a mine won’t be affected, but their computer server was destroyed – along with back-ups they say, so all round this will cost them billions.’
‘Is it fair to say they regret getting involved with underhand dealings?’
‘That would be an understatement. They’ll have to sell assets to survive, a reputation in tatters, they certainly won’t have any spare cash for a while for … speculative ventures. News in Europe is full of it, and we can expect the UK news to follow. And … any evidence floating around?’
‘None, and my men are all accounted for, should anyone suggest it was us. But if they did they’d have to explain why we would attack a bank in a friendly nation.’
‘That would be hard to explain, yes.’
At 10pm Bob called, as I sat in the recreational centre with those still on the base, loud words used to encourage Henri to beat Tomo at pool, a hundred quid on the table. And one of the Gloucester police was a damn good pool shark as well.
‘Hey No.1,’ I began in Russian as I stepped away from the melee.
‘We just picked up some indiscrete chat in the toilets, after a long and eventful day for the staff at the bank.’
‘I guess they need one of those team building days out. You close your eyes and fall backwards and your colleagues catch you, thereafter to trust them more in work – that they won’t steal your favourite pen.’
‘I think they’ll need more than that, most are traumatised to the point of hospitalisation. A few of their customers traumatised as well, unable to get at their bank accounts, pay the mortgage, food for the family, petrol for the car.’
‘David said that the EU is stepping in.’
‘Yes, emergency assistance, a bank balance transfer to another bank for customers in dire need. You know, in the UK you get thirty-five thousand pounds compensation at most if your bank goes bust, so if you have ten million quid in it you’re a bit knackered.’
‘Does Lord Michaels have money in that bank?’
‘Bound to, so he’ll be worried now.’
‘What was the indiscrete chat?’
‘Two things. First, a full meeting of board members and investors, in an Amsterdam hotel in a few days. Second, a secret meeting of the inner group in two days, at the Antwerp offices – smoke stains and broken glass to boot. I was thinking that we identify the members, but also their bodyguards and assistants.’
‘Yes, we could pick up some of the bodyguards and have a word. Have cameras set in a hedge down the road, not near the bank, and in the nearest petrol station or services, some will stop there. Know any good pick-pockets?’
‘Yes, got a great chap.’
‘Have him at the service station, see what he can get. And have someone at the nearest airports, photograph any groups of odd men arriving for the meeting.’
‘We can cross-match later on.’
I returned to the pool match, Tomo just edging ahead to some loud and rude jibes, Nicholson stood with his rifle – just in case of trouble, trouble with deadly assassins and not trouble in here.
At 8am in the morning I got a call, no number listed, so I was hesitant about answering. Curiosity got the better of me. ‘Hello?’
‘My name is Miller,’ came an American accent. ‘I wanted to pop in for coffee in an hour and … chat about the bank.’
‘And who do you work for, Mister Miller?’
‘Americans with a vested interest, but not a vested interest in your untimely demise.’
I gave that some thought. ‘What’s the name of the London Station Chief?’
‘Ted Grenetsky. Tall, a Texan, and you know Chuck – he still tells tales of how you let yourself get kidnapped and how you fooled them.’
‘I’d hope he was more discrete.’
‘You know how it works, for the CIA and housewives alike; got a juicy story to tell, you tell it.’
‘I don’t.’
‘We know, and we like our little secrets. So how about that coffee?’
‘I’ll tell them to let you in, and not to shoot you.’
‘I’d appreciate that, your boys must be kinda jumpy right about now.’
‘They are, so smile and don’t twitch.’
After breakfast, and coming up to the hour, I stood pensively waiting at the hangar mouth, a glance upwards at angry dark clouds racing by, but at least it was not raining.
I was notified after the MP near me got a radio call, and I could see the car. A glance around, and Tinker was stood ready in a high window with a camera with a long lens, to get my visitor’s face.
Miller’s car was parked near the para portakabin as I observed, and he was searched thoroughly for ten minutes before being driven around. MP Pete stepped down, pistol on hip, a bag in his hand.
‘This is all he had on him,’ Pete informed me as Miller stepped down and took in the base. I guessed that he had not seen the satellite photos. He was in his fifties, grey, but tall and fit, a pleasant face straight from a Marlboro commercial.
Pete put the bag on the jeep bonnet as I directed Miller towards the north fence.
‘So no coffee then,’ my guest quipped as we walked.
‘If you’re useful or helpful I may stretch to a coffee. Speak.’
We ambled up towards the fence.
‘You hurt the bank badly, they’ll be struggling to survive, something few would have believed possible. Now they’ll see a change of leadership.’
‘You mean … your lot using the opportunity!’
‘You’re a smart operator, Major,’ he commented with a grin.
‘Are we likely to see less interest in me and my men?’
‘I think they have other issues right now,’ he sarcastically let out. ‘In business, those who make bad decisions have to accept the consequences. And for the record, the American side of things never wanted you dead, nor your men, we love what you’re doing for us yet … yet we have a financial interest here as well.
‘Every time they tried to kill you it made us smile, you surviving an all, and every time that happened – we strengthened our position.’
‘How dependent is their annual profit and loss on speculative ventures in West Africa?’
‘They were planning on getting Liberia i
n the bag, and Sierra Leone and Guinea. They’re already in Guinea, offshore, so are we, and they’re big in West Africa and Nigeria, a nice profit made. You’re army putting down the coup in Liberia cost them, and we had to wonder why your government got involved like that, but our sources told us that it was not about the oil.’
‘Sources … like the former Chief Cabinet Secretary.’
He shot me a look. ‘Yeah, like him, suddenly retired off.’ He waited. ‘They knew about him?’
I glared at him. ‘No, I knew about him and told him to retire – or else. If you get someone that close to the Prime Minister again I’ll get upset about it.’
He flinched, looking worried. ‘Mean son of a bitch, ain’t ya.’
‘I’ll protect my national interest.’
‘And your personal interest?’
‘What about it?’
‘Rumours have it that Tomsk offered you a lot of money to stay…’
‘He did, a hundred million dollars.’
Miller cocked an eyebrow. ‘And you weren’t tempted?’
‘No,’ I flatly stated, turning away and peering through the green fence slats. ‘I get my kicks by putting the bad boys in the ground.’
‘Our analysts say that it was your personality that got the men in place to put down the coup in Liberia, that no one else could have pulled it off.’
‘I have a track record of good results, good newspaper inches, and politicians like good newspaper inches.’
‘They do, the world over, which is why you’re so popular stateside. And when you killed those French police I smiled for the whole day. You dodged the bomb here and that man at the school, and that had my analysts all grinning and scratching their heads.’
‘Just luck, and I could break an ankle next week.’
‘Broken ankle or not, they’d put you in a wheelchair and parachute you in.’
I sighed. ‘Yep, they fricking would.’
He laughed. ‘One of mine has a t-shirt: ceasefire, tea break. Tell me, that was a joke?’
‘No, we often get a brew on to keep the blood sugar up, the men alert. More practicality than joke.’