by Alex Shaw
‘There is another weapons cache in Montana. He could be going there.’
‘You’re just telling me this now?’
‘I am. I am trying to help.’
Tate didn’t have enough energy left to get angry. ‘You think the team is hiding with a stockpile of weapons?’
‘I do not know unless we go there. Montana is a huge territory.’
‘If we go there and Vetrov is not there, we’ve lost too much time.’
‘Jack, give me your phone. I’ll type in the address.’
‘Here.’ He handed Akulov the handset and watched as he tapped on the screen. Once the Russian had returned it Tate sent the address over to Newman with a quick note of explanation. Tate closed his eyes.
The interior of the Cadillac became silent as Tate tried to think what to do. He had to get the address of the Montana team from the Giant. In any other situation an interagency effort would be made to locate Kirill Vetrov, which would include his name and face being added to the no-fly list; in this situation all Tate had to rely on was Plato and his access to the USA’s vast network of surveillance cameras.
‘The Giant was asking for you,’ Miguel said, breaking the silence.
Tate nodded.
‘He keeps insisting that he has a deal with you?’
‘He has.’
‘So, I shall hand over the Mendez brothers’ lieutenant to you. As a man of my word, it is part of the debt of honour I owe to this man next to me.’
‘Thank you,’ Tate said.
‘However, if it is information only you need from the Giant, then I have men who can extract it from him. I am sure even a giant would pose no problems for them.’
Tate didn’t know what to say. Bravo and he had an agreement, but he needed the location. If Bravo did not give this to him, the mission was over, yet letting Miguel deal with Bravo was to sanction torture. It was crossing a line, but Tate saw no other choice. ‘That is acceptable.’
Undisclosed location, Texas, USA
Tate didn’t know where they were, only that the ranch house was large and empty. The stars shone above, uninhibited by any light pollution, providing the only light. He took in the panorama, the land flat in all directions and dark. The US was vast and in the past he had taken pleasure in being lost in it, but tonight its size was only a hindrance.
He wandered away from the still-ticking Suburban to make a phone call, while Miguel and his two men went inside with Akulov. He climbed over a low picket fence and walked into the scrub, all the while watching his feet for any of the local killer wildlife. It wasn’t Camden; they had snakes, spiders and scorpions here. And armadillos; in fact, if his memory served him right nine-banded armadillos and a fifth of those, according to Simon, carried leprosy. In the dark he smiled and instantly felt a twinge of sadness. His brother needed to recover, and fully; otherwise what was the point?
He pulled out his secure iPhone, checked that he was out of earshot and called his controller. Even though the line was encrypted they needed to be circumspect. ‘Pamela, I’m about to see Luis Bravo.’
The voice at the other end sounded alert, even though it was either very late or very early in London depending on your persuasion. ‘It’s vital that you get the location. We need to prevent Blackline from launching its attack. Assure Bravo that the deal will be honoured.’
‘And will it be?’
There was a pause, Tate didn’t know if it was intentional or the line, before she replied. ‘Yes. The Americans are very happy that they have Chen Yan. They know nothing about Bravo or what he had agreed to tell us. And this has given us leeway to get him out of the country.’
‘The Arellano Cartel also want him.’
‘It’s your decision, Jack. We must get the location, and that is all.’
‘What about the address Akulov gave us?’
‘It looks like a deserted group of cabins. With the satellite resources available we couldn’t see much of any use.’
Tate sighed, and watched a shooting star, or was it a comet or a meteor? He could never remember the difference. ‘Has Neill found anything else out about Eastman?’
‘No, apart from one thing. That’s not his real name.’
‘So what is?’
‘Neill doesn’t know, and if he doesn’t, no one does.’
‘Well that’s great.’
‘Jack, I have some new intel for you courtesy of Al Nayef.’
In the twilight Tate frowned. ‘Go ahead.’
‘Al Nayef has told us his uncle paid Blackline to carry out a cyberattack on Qatar. It’s going to happen this Friday and it will use the deep fake weapon in an attempt to overthrow the emir.’
Had the found Camden footage been just a test for this much bigger, much more political attack? Tate was momentarily lost for words as he thought about the geopolitical consequences. ‘Pamela, we can’t let Vetrov get to Eastman otherwise they’ll launch the attack and then vanish.’
‘Jack, I agree but does Vetrov even know we’re aware of Eastman’s existence?’
‘How would I know?’ Tate snapped and instantly regretted it.
If Newman had noticed his short temper, she had chosen to ignore it. ‘Either way, your mission now is to locate George Eastman, secure his technology and prevent the attack.’
‘I know.’ Tate was under no illusion which was more important not just to the SIS, but to the world as a whole. ‘And I will.’
‘Keep me updated.’
Call concluded, Tate vaulted back over the fence and raised his hand to knock on the front door of the house when it was opened by one of Miguel’s men.
Tate said nothing and stepped across the threshold. Inside the house was illuminated like any other. It was the extra thick blackout blinds at each and every window that had prevented the light from spilling out.
‘Don Miguel is this way, with your wrestler friend,’ said the Mexican, dryly.
‘Where is Angel Mendez?’
The cartel man’s face contorted, as though he had a bad taste in his mouth. ‘Do not worry about that pinche estúpido; he is being looked after in a special room for special guests.’
Tate followed the cartel soldier down a hallway, through a large living room and down some steps at the back. The man went first and knocked on a door at the bottom. ‘It’s me.’
It was opened by another cartel man and Tate entered. Tate was in a corridor that seemed to run the full length of the house. He noticed that, like the cell in the Mendez warehouse, the floor was poured concrete and pitched to the left. A drainage channel was cut, which led to a hole at the end. There was a smell of bleach. On the right, an equal distance apart, were four metal doors, again like those at the warehouse. Tate felt a cold hand along his spine. This was the cartel’s private prison, or at least one of them. There was a low murmuring and mumbling from the far end, and the floor shone wet in the overpowering, overhead lights.
‘Mr Jack!’ a jovial voice called.
The man who had opened the door now moved in front of him and unlocked the second door along. Tate made a conscious effort to relax as he realised that about now everything could go wrong. He was in a cartel house with two cartel dons, an unknown number of armed men, a giant and a highly trained assassin, whose allegiance he couldn’t one hundred per cent verify. If they made a move against him, he was either a prisoner or a dead prisoner.
‘Come inside, please!’ the voice of Miguel called again.
Tate entered the cell. The room was bare except for a metal table and a pair of chairs. Bravo sat on the chair facing the door. His size shrank the furniture to look like a child’s tea-party set. Chains affixed to links on his wrists secured his arms, but he had enough space to make small movements. He nodded at Tate.
Miguel was standing by the door. He tapped Tate on the shoulder and left the room. ‘He’s all yours, for now.’ The door closed behind him.
‘How is your brother?’ Bravo asked, concern etched on his face.
‘Serious but stable. Thanks.�
�� Tate jutted his chin at Bravo. ‘How’s your shoulder?’
Bravo self-consciously touched the dressing. ‘A bit of damage but nothing that will not heal. It is good. Don Miguel has so far been honourable towards me, but I cannot trust the Arellano Cartel. They have been my sworn enemies for a decade. At any moment they may cut my throat, which is why you must get me out of here. What is happening with my deal? I have already given you Chen Yan’s location.’
‘Have you spoken to your lawyer?’
‘Sí, I have. They gave me a phone and monitored me in case I tried to give him my location, but how can I? I have no idea of where I am! I told my lawyer I was at a place, not too far from the city and being taken care of. He has read the letter your embassy has sent and is happy with the deal, and informs me matters are progressing. But you know, I am worried for my mother and sister. Have they been collected?’
‘Look, Luis, I’ve spoken to my boss again in London and to Don Miguel. You know things are in motion. Your deal is being honoured and your family will be collected and taken somewhere safe. It’s time for you to honour your deal with me and give me the address. That’s all I need.’
‘Jack, I like you, but I like my mother and sister more. They are in Mexico; I am doing this for them.’
‘Family is important. If I don’t get there first, the man who shot my brother and murdered my parents will.’
‘But your brother is safe. My family are not. No, I am sorry. I cannot give you what you are asking for until I have evidence that my family are safe. This is nothing personal. I believe that if it were up to you, you would honour any agreement, but I know this is the word of your boss, and your boss’s boss and the American justice system.’
Tate battled against the guilt he felt inside, but he didn’t know the Giant or what he had done for the cartel. Tate needed the location of the team in Montana; he had asked for it and Bravo had refused. He had one more trick to try. ‘Lundeen Road, Eureka.’
The Giant seemed confused. ‘What is that?’
‘It’s a place in Montana.’
‘It is not somewhere I have heard of.’
Tate stared at the Giant’s features and attempted to read them. Either he had the world’s best poker face or the address really meant nothing to him. Tate stood. He was frustrated yet he couldn’t blame the Giant for holding out. Tate was about to knock on the door when it opened. He tried not to let his relief show as he stepped back through and into the corridor.
Bravo called after him. ‘Believe me, Jack, I’m sorry for this delay but I need to know my family are safe. How am I expected to sleep knowing that the cartel may still snatch them?’
Tate followed the man back up the steps and found Miguel and Akulov sitting in deep leather armchairs arranged in front of a stone fireplace. There was an empty third chair, a small table between them, and a bottle and glasses on that.
‘Ah, Jack!’
Miguel had removed his dark jacket and Tate’s eyes were drawn to a large flowering bloodstain on Miguel’s shirt.
‘Do not worry, it is the blood of Angel Mendez and not my own. Have a seat, Jack.’ Miguel pointed at the bottle. ‘Have some tequila too.’
‘Sod it.’ Tate bent down, poured himself a glass and took the empty chair.
Miguel raised his glass. ‘To Simon!’
Akulov followed suit.
Tate nodded and emptied his glass. The liquor burned his throat. ‘Thanks.’
‘So let me guess, the Giant Bravo will not tell you what you want to know? Until his family are signed, sealed and delivered?’ Miguel smiled at his own joke.
‘Can you blame him?’ Tate said, flatly.
‘As a slightly older gentleman, let me tell you this, Jack. It is late and from the look of you, it has been one hell of a day. You are both my guests here. Mr Ruslan, or should I say Mr Russel’ – Miguel paused and smiled at Akulov – ‘is a man of his word and has honoured his contract to us, and as a friend of his you are of course a friend of mine. There are rooms for you both here. Take them and go to sleep. Tomorrow you’ll wake up, and we’ll all be done. You’ll have your secret intel from Bravo, then you can go wherever you need to. Ask me nicely and I’ll lend you my Gulfstream.’
Tate wondered what business Akulov had with Miguel, but was too tired to think. ‘OK.’ Tate held up the bottle, Miguel held out his glass and Tate refilled it.
Texas, USA
Vetrov had lost Chen. He’d arrived at the end of her street to see a collection of official vehicles haphazardly parked on her drive and spilling out onto the road – two police cruisers, an ambulance, a dark panel transporter and, most tellingly of all, a coroner’s van. An icy fist had clenched Vetrov’s heart as he’d realised it was time to cut his losses. Chen, his lover and his employer, was either dead, or injured and in custody. Neither was any use to him. She knew the address of the team in Montana but Vetrov was confident she would not give it up. Did the authorities even know the team or he existed? Vetrov had no reason to believe they did. Nothing Chen said or did would help her; she was among the US’s most wanted but he knew she would say nothing.
He’d gazed at the house for a moment longer, remembering her naked form beneath him. He bitterly remembered the several million dollars in cash hidden in the house, which would now be confiscated by the authorities, before turning back the way he had come in search of another taxi. He found one minutes later and ordered the driver to take him to an address on the eastern edge of the city.
Vetrov was on the move again. He didn’t have a place he called his own, at least not in the US. He had a carry-on bag at Angel Mendez’s and a few things left in the Mendez club in Matamoros but nothing that gave away his identity or that he couldn’t buy again. His money was in several far-flung banks and he owned a flat in Moscow, another in Sochi and several dachas. If he could get out of the US he could disappear. And if he was frugal, he wouldn’t need to work for a long time. Weeks before, he’d asked Detective Vinyl if the Houston police had anything on him and the detective had told him that, as far as the police were concerned, he was a no one. Just a face who had been seen with the Mendez brothers. Being in “vice”, Vinyl said he’d know. Yet Vinyl had vanished and he’d thrown away his anonymity when he’d shot the pair of cops – if they’d managed to get decent enough footage of his face.
It wasn’t just the cops he had to worry about, it was the cartel too. If they thought for one minute he’d given up Angel or been part of some sort of hostile takeover, they’d be out for his blood. The consequences of being a snitch and talking out against the cartel was death, in an appropriately agonising manner. Which was why he found it all the more difficult to believe that Bravo had done just that. A normal-sized human could change their appearance, name and location, but a mountain like Bravo? Now that was a tall order. Vetrov sneered; Bravo couldn’t hide unless he went to a zoo. What was it that had made him turn on the cartel?
He had of course recognised Akulov, but not the other two – the one who had shot at him in the warehouse and the one he had shot as he’d made his escape. It had been the first time Vetrov had come face to face with Wolf 6 since the traitor had left the Russian Army. Blackline had employed them both for a failed mission the year before, but they had not met as Vetrov had been assigned to protect Chen whilst Akulov had been contracted to do what he was the best in the world at – hunting and killing his targets.
Vetrov shivered. He feared no man but Akulov. He had hoped that the doctored footage would be enough to get him locked up for life, or worse, but it had turned out very differently. However far or fast Vetrov ran, Wolf 6 would eventually find him. Their eventual meeting was a destiny he could not outrun. All he could do was control where and when it happened. His mind switched back to the warehouse. Who were the two men who had been with Akulov? One could handle a firearm and one could not, so one a field officer and the other, a desk officer? Da, that had to be it. They had to be DEA. Who else could or would make Bravo turn on the cartel, and
who else could offer full-time witness protection – because that’s what it would take – to keep the Giant and his family safe?
But his involvement with the Mexicans was over. Their little wars and squabbles meant nothing. They were debased criminals whose thiefdom would eventually implode, and once out of the US the Mendez name and money meant nothing. The issue was that he couldn’t risk flying from any airport in Texas, but could he get on a flight in a different state? There was one place he could try, and he would, but even that was a day’s driving away. He was under no illusions how far away Eureka was, and he knew he had to get there by air; the alternative was losing three days on surface routes.
There was of course nothing, except him, linking the cartel to Eureka. Akulov knew about Eureka, but not the other place. And he would be coming after him, of that there was no doubt. This gave Vetrov an opportunity to intercept him, but only if he got to Montana first. Akulov had not been acting alone in Houston, but who was helping him, and why were they? His mind went back to the DEA again. Did the DEA, or whoever they were who had been with Bravo, know who Akulov really was? Vetrov neither cared nor worried. Akulov would want to face him one on one, and no matter who he may or may not be working with, or what he had agreed to, nothing would save him.
So bypassing the airports of Houston and the surrounding area, Vetrov had taken a taxi to a hospital on the eastern outskirts of Houston. In the CCTV-neglected staff car park he’d then broken in to a beat-up Honda and continued his journey east away from Houston and towards the border with Louisiana. He knew that he had to get out of state fast before his description was circulated and roadblocks were put in place. He had his training and he still had a handgun; if need be, he’d shoot his way through, but he hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
And it didn’t. As the needle hit red on the gas tank, Vetrov crossed into Louisiana and then carried on to the “Smokers Paradise Border Town Casino complex”, which he found to be an overly fancy name for a gas station, strip mall, hotel and casino. In the fading light he parked the stolen Honda in the darkest place he could find, nose in, and then went in search of his next ride. He walked along the road, just outside the pool of vivid light thrown by the gas station and headed towards the building housing a 7 Eleven and a Subway restaurant.