Total Fallout

by Alex Shaw

  ‘Pamela, can I come in?’ Plato was aware that his voice sounded croaky. ‘There is something I need to tell you.’

  Newman was reading a printout. ‘Is it earth-shatteringly vital, Neill?’

  Plato swallowed. ‘Actually yes, it is.’

  Newman waved him to sit, placed the paper back on her leather-topped desk, and looked at him over the top of her reading glasses. ‘Go ahead.’

  Plato didn’t want to waste his words. ‘I have indisputable proof that Ruslan Akulov did not plant nor set off either of the Camden bombs.’

  ‘That’s quite a big statement, Neill.’

  ‘Yes it is.’ Plato nodded, nervously. ‘I know I’m correct.’

  ‘Then please explain to me how you have arrived at this conclusion.’

  Plato took a breath, cleared his throat, and explained, as calmly as possible, what he had discovered.

  Newman removed her glasses, rubbed her eyes, leant back and stared at her ceiling before she managed to reply. ‘Let me get this straight, Neill. You hacked into – on three occasions – secure databases of a sovereign nation?’

  ‘Yes.’ There was no way to sugar-coat it.

  ‘What are you proposing we do, Neill?’

  Plato was confused. ‘Arrest me?’

  ‘Have you left any trace at all that you broke into these systems?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How certain are you of this?’

  ‘One hundred per cent.’

  ‘Then it didn’t happen.’

  ‘Pardon me?’

  ‘I just did. Putting you on an immediate suspension and launching an official investigation into your actions, which may lead to possible criminal charges, would not be in anyone’s best interests.’

  Plato felt a wave of relief crash over him. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Tell me, Neill, what do you propose we do regarding this discovery of yours?’

  Plato answered with a renewed resolve, ‘We need to find the person, or persons, responsible for this footage and take control of their technology before they can inflict any more damage.’

  ‘I agree, but tell me, why was this technology used on the Camden bombing footage? Why was it so important to frame Ruslan Akulov?’

  Plato shrugged. ‘I don’t know. It may very well be this is not the first time the technology has been used. This could in theory just be the first time it has been discovered. All we know for certain is that the smartphone footage is at least a year old, and that’s a whole generation in the digital age.’

  ‘If this is a year old …’

  Plato nodded. ‘Exactly, think how much more advanced it could be now with another twelve months of development.’

  ‘Who is responsible for this? Have you any ideas?’

  ‘There are a few names I could look at, people I think who may possibly be good enough to pull this off, but it would be pure conjecture.’

  ‘Conject.’

  ‘Henry Roi, Martin Sonderborg, George Eastman, Zaneta LaMos, and Justin Nash are the first that come to mind.’

  ‘How do we narrow that down?’

  ‘We would need to undertake surveillance on them, both actual and digital. I’m doubting even I could crack their systems.’

  ‘Are any of these people British?’

  ‘Justin Nash is, but I’ve got no idea if he lives in the UK.’

  ‘I see. And again, you said Jack Tate believes another member of Akulov’s unit may be the actual bomber?’

  ‘Yes, Kirill Vetrov.’

  ‘And do you believe he is?’

  ‘Too soon to tell. I’m in the process of trying to get a match to anything showing him in the UK.’

  ‘OK. Thanks, Neill. I know how hard you work for us, and I understand the courage it must have taken you to pursue this but, in the future, if you are contemplating any illegal activity, you must run it past whoever is responsible for the “sign-off” for that particular desk. Agreed?’

  ‘Agreed,’ Plato replied, sheepishly.

  Newman glanced at the wall clock above Plato’s head. ‘Go home. The real bomber has been in the wind for four years. Twelve hours more will not make a difference.’

  Fairbanks Heights, Texas, USA

  Tate had their driver, a retired member of 3 Para, stop the executive van one lot over from the warehouse. Hunter stayed with the van whilst Tate and Akulov went to scout the building for any sign of a threat. Tate found it unnerving to be working with the Russian, but he recognised the man’s skill set. Both men had suppressed 9mm handguns, Tate’s was a Glock and Akulov carried a Beretta.

  Akulov opened a door and went inside. Tate had instructed him to give a signal when it was clear to approach, but as soon as the Werewolf had disappeared from view, Tate moved tactically to the side of the building and waited. The building was huge and he guessed that old adage of everything being “bigger in Texas” was true. He spotted another steel-plated door with a fisheye security lens. He backed away, hoping that if there was a guard on duty, he hadn’t been seen. He did a circuit of the V structure and appeared on the other side. Akulov was leaning against the door, a disposable cup of vending machine coffee in his hand.

  ‘Have you finished?’ he asked, offering Tate a cup.

  Tate shook his head. ‘I need to see inside now.’

  He moved past Akulov and noted the overhead lights were on, illuminating the space in stark, artificial light. He saw vehicles under covers on one side, a minivan and a prefabricated office structure. It reminded him of the warehouse at College Park Airport a year before, the last time he had, however fleetingly, been on the same side as Akulov.

  The whirr of a winch, as Akulov opened the large roll-up doors, interrupted Tate’s thoughts. ‘My guests are in a cell at the back.’

  ‘Cell?’

  ‘The Mendez Cartel had it specially built.’

  Tate followed Akulov past an empty office space. Akulov pulled open a door to reveal another metal door with bars. He held up the key for Tate. ‘Here.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Tate peered through the bars at the two men inside. One was in a suit and lying on the floor. He looked to be asleep. The other was huge and sat with his back against the concrete wall. The huge man had both his wrists and ankles bound with numerous cable ties, and tape across his mouth. He pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. Tate unlocked the door and with his pistol in his right hand, used his left to pull back the tape.

  ‘The Giant Bravo?’ Tate said, as he took a step away.

  Bravo looked down at Tate. His face was blank, then like the clouds moving and uncovering the sun, a huge smile appeared and he spoke in accented English. ‘Yes. It is me.’

  ‘I was a fan.’ Tate’s mind went back to the downtime between operations in Afghanistan where for entertainment he’d rekindled his enjoyment of American wrestling and had scoured the internet for classic matches. His searches eventually took him from the WWE to smaller, obscure circuits. Bravo had wrestled for an independent Mexican company before he seemingly disappeared, rumour had it just weeks before a potential try-out for a large US promotion. Bravo’s hair was still jet black, and held back in a ponytail, and his physique looked bigger than ever, though the stubble on his chin had started to grey. ‘You’re the informer?’

  ‘I am. I want out of the cartel in exchange for my information. I told the Russian this. I no longer wish to be a bad man.’

  ‘And what about him?’ Tate gestured to Vinyl. ‘Is he going to ask for the same?’

  ‘How do I know? Ask him when he wakes up.’

  ‘Stay here.’ Tate shut the door and moved back into the central space. His day had just taken an odd turn. He put his iPhone to his ear and told Hunter to come over and leave the van outside. Then he addressed Akulov. ‘Do you know who that is?’

  ‘Bravo? He’s their surveillance guy, when he’s not being an enforcer.’

  ‘He’s also the Giant Bravo.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘As in the wrestler? He’s taller than the Bi
g Show.’

  Akulov shrugged. ‘I grew out of TV in 1996.’

  Hunter entered the room. Tate beckoned him over, opened the door and waited for his brother’s reaction. If it was at all possible, Hunter had been a bigger wrestling fan than he. Hunter froze and an odd expression flashed across his face.

  ‘El Gigante Bravo?’

  ‘Sí,’ the Giant replied, with a wide smile. ‘It appears I am famous? You two gentlemen are from British Intelligence?’

  ‘We are,’ Hunter stated.

  ‘How do I know this?’

  ‘Here is my official British Embassy accreditation ID.’ Hunter produced a plastic ID from his wallet and held it in front of Bravo’s face.

  ‘Very well. Now, gentlemen, can you please let me sit in one of the comfortable chairs in the office? We can discuss matters there in a much easier fashion.’

  Tate shrugged. ‘Why not.’

  ‘Thank you.’ The Giant stepped forward and the cable ties around his ankles snapped.

  Giving him space, Tate and Hunter followed. Akulov was already inside.

  ‘So—’ Hunter started to say but didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence as there was a sudden electronic trilling. It was coming from the mobile phone on the conference table.

  ‘That’s Detective Vinyl’s phone,’ Akulov stated.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ Tate, said. He looked at the screen, the number was withheld. The Miami Vice theme tune. Tate let it ring out to voicemail but a moment later it bleeped with a WhatsApp message. Tate picked the handset up and read out the message, ‘Where RU?’

  ‘Who’s calling?’ Hunter asked.

  Tate shrugged. ‘It could be his boss, or his hairdresser. There’s no name on the contact.’

  ‘What is the number?’ the Giant asked.

  Tate read it out.

  ‘It’s Angel Mendez.’

  ‘Reply to him,’ Hunter said. ‘Say: “I’m with Bravo.” See what he says.’

  ‘OK.’ Tate tapped out the reply.

  Almost immediately another message appeared. ‘Vetrov called. Said you didn’t pick up. You hiding from me?’

  Tate replied, ‘Been busy.’

  ‘BUSY! YOU BEEN BUSY! I got Feds crawling all over me! They just left Del Monte!’

  Tate frowned but before he could think of what this meant or how to reply the phone rang again.

  ‘Let me speak to him,’ Bravo suggested. ‘If I warn him you can shoot me.’

  Hunter nodded.

  Tate answered the call but put it on speaker.

  ‘Don Angel,’ Bravo said, ‘Vinyl is here with me and all is OK. Akulov is in the cell.’

  ‘All is OK? Really? You wanna tell me why you got Vinyl’s phone?’

  ‘He’s having a shit; it’s his nerves.’

  There was a pause and then Angel said, ‘Where is Pedro?’

  Tate saw Akulov glance over to the minivan parked to one side of the warehouse.

  ‘He went home to his woman.’

  ‘Now you listen to me good. I’m coming over to see that Russian puto, you hear that?’

  ‘Sí.’

  ‘OK. We’ll be seeing you in one hour.’

  The line went dead.

  Tate looked at his brother and nodded. ‘The man from Del Monte says “yes”.’

  Hunter rolled his eyes.

  Bravo held up his hands. ‘Now perhaps, you can untie me? Have I not won that privilege?’

  Tate addressed Akulov. ‘Remind me why this Angel bloke is so hot on finding you?’

  ‘I killed his twin brother.’

  ‘And you didn’t tell us this before?’ Hunter was astounded.

  ‘Was it relevant?’

  ‘You just lose count of who you kill, is that it? Oops there goes another.’

  ‘They were trying to abduct two women,’ Akulov said.

  ‘He was not a good person,’ Bravo stated. ‘I think it was a reasonable course of action.’

  Hunter looked at his brother. ‘So we figure out a plan, we set a trap, and we wait for them to arrive?’

  ‘Pretty much.’

  ‘These men are soldiers,’ Akulov said. ‘Vetrov has been training them and Mendez will bring him. You will meet the man who murdered your parents very soon.’

  Bravo’s face became quizzical. ‘Vetrov killed your parents?’

  ‘He’s a terrorist,’ Hunter said, checking his watch.

  ‘Angel trusts him, so did Caesar. I do not know why.’ Bravo took a large breath and his chest became even more gargantuan. ‘George Eastman is the person you are looking for. Eastman is the one who helped them frame you, who created the technology. But I have no idea how.’

  ‘Where is Eastman?’

  ‘A safe house in Montana.’

  ‘The Mendez Cartel has Eastman?’ Hunter furrowed his brow.

  ‘Of course not. Blackline. Eastman is guarded by more Russians.’

  Tate and Akulov exchanged glances. Akulov was the first to speak. ‘How many men?’

  ‘I don’t know exactly.’

  Tate was curious. ‘Why Montana?’

  ‘I’m not sure. All I know is Blackline have been ingenious. How do you hide in a digital world? You go analogue, you switch from high tech to no tech – you leave no trace.’ Bravo smiled. ‘They have no communication with the outside world, not even a cell phone. They are in total isolation, a total blackout.’

  ‘How does Vetrov communicate with them?’

  ‘In person – he goes to Montana.’

  ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘Remember, I designed and implemented the CCTV network. I also put bugs and tracking devices in their cars. But they are so stupid they did not see them. Ever.’

  ‘So, Blackline is still operational and has the person responsible for the faking of the Camden bombing footage?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Blackline is being run by Kirill Vetrov?’

  ‘No.’

  Hunter looked at Tate. ‘Who then?’

  ‘Its founder.’

  ‘Oleniuk is dead,’ Tate stated.

  ‘Of course,’ Hunter said, nodding. ‘Chen Yan is running Blackline and this operation, isn’t she?’

  ‘Correct.’ The Giant licked his lips. ‘I know where she is; I can give her to you. I have taped conversations of Vetrov talking to her and mentioning Montana. She’s in Texas.’

  ‘Where?’

  The Giant tapped his nose.

  ‘The cartel is working with Blackline?’ Tate asked.

  ‘The cartel has no idea that Blackline exists. The cartel is working with Vetrov.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Money,’ Hunter answered before the Giant could. ‘Blackline needs money. One of its founders is dead and the other has been cut off from her finances.’

  ‘That is true.’ The Giant rubbed his hands on his face, as though attempting to wash away his tiredness. ‘Vetrov figured out how to increase the cartel’s profits.’

  ‘How?’ Tate frowned.

  ‘Backhaul.’

  ‘Like in trucking?’ Hunter said.

  ‘Exactly.’ Bravo nodded. ‘We were bringing our product into the US and returning on many occasions with empty trucks. Not anymore. Vetrov changed all that.’

  ‘What were you backhauling?’

  ‘Weapons.’ Again Hunter answered before the Giant could. ‘Correct?’

  ‘Yes.’ The Giant seemed surprised.

  ‘What type?’ Tate asked.

  ‘The type that could be used to fight against the Guardia Nacional. Their formation represents a critical threat to the cartels, in not only Mexico, but also those beyond whose products and men must pass through Mexico.’

  ‘These weapons were not bought in the US, were they?’ Hunter asked, but by the expression on his face Tate knew his brother already had the answer.

  ‘No.’ Bravo looked as though he was enjoying himself. ‘That would leave a trace. These weapons were stockpiled, completely unused and untraceable.’


  Tate frowned again. ‘Vetrov has contacts with US military personnel who are selling off oversupply or arms destined to be destroyed?’

  ‘No. These were not just American weapons, were they?’ Hunter said, jutting his chin at Akulov. ‘But of course, you would know about them.’

  Tate glanced at Akulov then back at Bravo. ‘I think I understand, but I want you to confirm it for me, Bravo.’

  ‘The weapons were in caches created by the Soviets, and later checked by the Russians in order to supply and arm their Spetsnaz raiding units if war was to break out. I thought it was an urban myth, but no. There was a large one near to the airport here, in Houston. It was like a treasure trove, an Aladdin’s cave of armaments. I had never seen so much, and neither had the Mendez brothers.’

  ‘Worth a few million.’ Hunter smiled. ‘Millions that would help fund Blackline.’

  ‘The cartel’s first payment was over two million American dollars directly to Vetrov. Chen Yan, I understand, has taken the vast majority of this.’

  ‘These were our caches. Their location was known to my group and our commanding officer. He died in Syria,’ Akulov stated, without emotion.

  ‘And what type of weapons did these contain?’

  ‘Everything to start a small war. The GRU and then the SVR were meticulous.’

  ‘Vetrov is in this for the money.’ Tate nodded. This was enough for him to know for the moment.

  ‘I need you to tell me where Chen is.’ Hunter’s tone was firm. ‘I also need the location of George Eastman.’

  ‘As for me, I need immunity from prosecution and I need myself, and my mother and sister, to be put into witness protection.’

  ‘That’s something I can’t do.’

  ‘You can. I know how these things work. You speak with your boss in London, and you have a copy of the legal paperwork sent to my lawyer.’

  Tate thought back to the lengths he had gone to ensuring the safe passage of Al Nayef to Australia. This situation surely warranted equal treatment, given what was at stake. ‘Simon, call Newman.’

  ‘Jack, I don’t think that is an option.’

  ‘I’ll do it then.’

  Hunter gave his brother a look. ‘Fine. I’ll talk to London.’

  ‘I’ve got a question.’ Akulov folded his arms. ‘Why did Vetrov set me up?’

  ‘Because he hates you?’