Circle of Death - Strike Back Series 05 (2020)

by Ryan, Chris

  ‘Even though he tried to get rid of the president?’

  ‘Vasquez isn’t as wildly popular as he likes to think. A number of senior military figures despise him. They respect Gallardo for his bravery.’

  Mary said, ‘Although he isn’t in the country anymore, the colonel is in close contact with his comrades. They report back to him, and he passes on information to us.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘One of his contacts reached out to him last week. A lieutenant, now working for the Venezuelan intelligence service. He claims to know where Fuller is being held.’

  ‘Where?’ asked Bald.

  ‘Right now, she’s at the headquarters of the Bolivarian intelligence service, in downtown Caracas. Which is obviously very well defended.’

  ‘How the fuck are we supposed to get her out of there?’

  ‘You aren’t,’ said Bill. ‘Gallardo’s contact says that President Vasquez has ordered Fuller to be moved to a new, more discreet, location. Specifically, his private retreat outside the capital.’

  ‘Why would he do that?’ Porter wondered.

  ‘Our source says Vasquez wants to question her personally. He can’t do that in Caracas. Vasquez hasn’t dared set foot in the capital for weeks. Not since the assassination attempt. He’s been holed up in his various mansions for the past month. According to our source, Vasquez is planning to put his top interrogators to work on Fuller when she arrives.’

  ‘When is she being moved?’

  ‘We don’t know. Gallardo’s contact believes the security services won’t risk a prisoner transfer until the unrest in Caracas has been brought under control. Which might take a while.’

  ‘How long?’

  ‘A few days, at the very least. Right now, half the city is on the streets, fighting the police and protesting against the regime. Could be a week before the transfer. Could be less. Our source will let us know for sure, as soon as he hears.’

  Bald rubbed his jaw. ‘Can we trust him?’

  Bill and Mary swapped a look. Mary took the answer. ‘We’ve no reason to doubt the veracity of his claims.’

  ‘He might be bullshitting. Maybe the Venezuelans have sent him your way, to feed you false int. Might be a trap.’

  Mary half-smiled. ‘We’ve considered that, of course. But everything Gallardo has told us so far has checked out. Besides, it’s in his interest to tell us the truth. He’ll only get his reward once the hostage has been safely returned to London. Same for the lieutenant.’

  Porter shook his head. ‘Even if that’s the case, how are we supposed to get her out of some remote mansion? That place is bound to be crawling with guards. We’ll get bumped long before we can spring her free.’

  ‘You won’t be going in alone,’ Strickland said. ‘You’ll have support.’

  She waved a hand in the direction of Bill and Mary. ‘Our friends at the Company have offered to supply three former Special Forces operators to accompany you on your mission.’

  ‘Delta Force?’

  ‘Ex-Navy SEALs, actually,’ Bill replied. ‘Our finest people. They did some work for us back in the day, with the Special Operations Group. I can personally vouch for them. These boys are the best of the best.’

  ‘I’d rather have some of the lads from the Regiment,’ said Bald.

  ‘Out of the question,’ Carter responded. ‘We can’t use active military personnel for this operation. The PM won’t allow it. Too much risk of blowback if it goes wrong.’

  ‘What about some of the blokes on the Circuit?’

  Strickland said, ‘There’s no time to recruit and vet them. It’s the SEALs, or nobody.’

  ‘Where are they now?’ Porter wondered.

  ‘Bogotá,’ said Bill. ‘On a training mission down there with the Colombian security forces. You’ll rendezvous with them at a FARC training camp in the jungle, north-east of Bogotá.’

  ‘FARC?’ Bald gave the American the eyebrows treatment.

  ‘You’ve heard of them, I assume. Marxist guerrillas hiding out in the jungle. Dedicated to overthrowing the government. Glorified terrorists and drug-traffickers.’

  ‘I thought they disbanded a few years ago.’

  ‘Most of them did. But a few dissidents remained in their jungle camps. They’re still operational, fighting against various cartels and paramilitary groups.’

  ‘But your mob fought against FARC. Why would they suddenly agree to work with us?’

  ‘A realignment of interests,’ Mary explained. ‘There’s a new wave of drug trafficking organisations. Much deadlier than the old cartels. More militarised, more disciplined. They could be a big problem for us. Right now, the priority for the White House is to tackle these emergent organisations. The FARC dissidents are our ally in that particular fight.’

  Bald nodded. He got it. It was a case of the least-worst enemy. After the bloodbath in Mexico and the billions spent tackling the cartels, the last thing anyone wanted was Colombia returning to the bad old days. If that meant breaking bread with a bunch of FARC thugs, so be it.

  ‘What’s the plan, once we get to the camp?’

  ‘You’ll train for the assault with the ex-SEALs,’ said Mary. ‘One of our colleagues will brief you in detail on the plan to rescue Fuller. Once you’re ready, the guerrillas will guide you across the border into Venezuela.’

  ‘Why can’t we just hop on a plane?’ Porter asked.

  ‘Won’t work. Five British and American citizens would look suspicious. You’d be arrested more or less immediately.’

  ‘We could travel separately.’

  ‘Same problem. There’s too much risk of arbitrary arrest. And that’s without the difficulties of sourcing weaponry and kit locally. The smuggling routes are a better bet.’

  ‘We’ll need a cover story,’ Bald pointed out. ‘In case anyone gets suspicious. Starts asking questions.’

  Strickland grinned. ‘That’s where Roddy will come in.’ She nodded at Iverson. ‘Perhaps you’d care to explain.’

  ‘Delighted.’ Iverson sat upright and addressed Porter and Bald as if they were soldiers under his command. ‘Right, chaps. This is how it’s going to work. You’ll fly out as private security contractors attached to my company. GreyWatch. I’m sure you’ve heard of us. We’re a big deal these days, plenty of people know the name.’

  Something clicked inside Bald’s head. ‘That jet that flew us down from Campbeltown. That’s yours.’

  ‘One of ours, yes. We do a lot of work with our friends in Six.’

  ‘Sounds lucrative.’

  Iverson smiled.

  Porter said, ‘We’ll need documents.’

  ‘Already taken care of. My team will provide you with all the necessary paperwork and accreditation. You’ll be added to the company payroll as well. All very straightforward.’

  Porter said, ‘What’s the story?’

  ‘You’re flying out to provide security to the Mendieta oil installation, in the Llanos basin to the east of Bogotá.’

  ‘Will that work?’

  ‘It’s a big old place. There’s always a few other lads like yourselves working there.’

  ‘Like us?’

  ‘Retired guys from the ranks, looking to make a few quid.’

  ‘What if the Colombians don’t buy it?’

  ‘They bloody well ought to. I’ve sent plenty of guys out there before on similar contracts. If they start asking questions, you should be able to bluff your way through.’

  ‘Easy for you to say,’ Bald growled. ‘You’re not the one flying out to a country that’s gone to shit. You get to sit in your nice office, making a tidy packet while we take all the risk.’

  Iverson shot Bald a cold look. Bald swivelled his gaze back to Strickland.

  ‘What about hardware? We’re gonna need weaponry, explosives, night-vision kit. You can’t expect to send us in to the country half-cocked. Not if you want this woman out alive.’

  ‘The Americans will provide you with everything you need, once
you’re at the training camp.’

  ‘What about intelligence?’

  ‘The Company will provide you with up-to-the-minute intel,’ Mary chipped in. ‘We have a number of assets we’re willing to put at your disposal. Surveillance drones, nodal analysis, signal intercepts. We’re offering complete support on this one. Whatever you need.’

  ‘And that is very much appreciated,’ Merrick said.

  A troubling thought needled Bald. ‘I don’t get it. I can see why Vauxhall wants to rescue this woman, but what’s in it for you lot?’

  Bill leaned back and rested his hands on his enormous gut, the chair creaking under his weight. ‘You guys are in a fix. We’re in a position to help. Nothing more to it than that, friend.’

  ‘Well?’ Strickland glanced round the room before resting her gaze on Bald and Porter. ‘Questions?’

  Bald thought for a beat.

  ‘It’s a ballsy plan. But that’s about all it’s got going for it.’

  Strickland raised an eyebrow. ‘You have doubts?’

  ‘You want us to RV with some ex-SEALs we’ve never met, trust a bunch of Marxist guerrillas to lead us safely across the border into Venezuela, and somehow rescue this lass from the president’s private gaff. Then we’ve got to smuggle her out of there again, without getting contacted by the local security forces.’

  ‘You’re saying you won’t do it?’

  Bald shrugged. ‘I’ve taken part in hairier ops. Part and parcel of life in the Regiment. If you think this is dodgy, you should see what the geniuses in the head shed used to come up with.’

  ‘Then what’s the issue?’

  ‘If you want us to go out there and risk our necks, you’re going to have to make it worth my while.’

  ‘I already have. You’re out of a jail cell.’

  ‘It’s going to take more than that. A lot fucking more.’

  ‘What do you propose?’

  ‘Eighty grand. That should do it.’

  Merrick did a double take. ‘Who the hell do you think we are? The Bank of England?’

  Bald pointed a finger at Iverson but addressed Merrick. ‘I’m sure he’s getting nicely compensated. Why shouldn’t I?’

  ‘You should be grateful we got you off those charges, you arrogant prick.’

  ‘Gratitude doesn’t pay the bills. If you want my services, it’ll cost you.’

  ‘What ever happened to serving your country, for Chrissakes?’

  ‘Tried that once. A mug’s game.’

  Merrick stared at him, face bristling with indignation.

  ‘I’m afraid we can’t give you anything like that sum,’ Strickland interrupted. ‘You’ll get a daily rate paid to you as contractors working for Roddy, of course.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Five hundred a day, plus expenses.’

  ‘You’re going to have to do a lot better than that, lass.’

  ‘That’s all we’re offering,’ Merrick said. ‘Take it or leave it.’

  ‘Bullshit. I know you lot have got a slush fund for black ops. I’m sure you can scrape together a few pennies to pay us.’

  ‘I’m sorry, John. We simply can’t agree to that.’

  ‘Then we’ve got nothing more to discuss.’

  ‘But we can give you something else.’

  Bald narrowed his eyes. ‘What?’

  ‘Revenge. And a future career.’

  Bald waited for Strickland to go on.

  ‘I understand that you ran into some trouble a while ago with a couple of fellow SAS men. Ken Ramsey and Matthew Peake.’

  Porter flashed a questioning look at his mucker. Bald ignored him and fixed his gaze on Strickland. ‘How do you lot know about that?’

  ‘Word gets around.’

  ‘They really took you to the cleaners, old chap,’ Merrick added smugly. ‘Terrible, when you think about it. All that money they stole from you. How much was it again?’

  ‘Fuck off.’

  Strickland said, ‘No doubt you’ll have heard that Ramsey and Peake are running their own outfit in Dubai these days.’

  ‘Aye. I heard.’

  ‘We can wreck their business.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘We’ve got rather a lot of clout in the private sector, as you might imagine. A few words in the ears of the right people, and their contracts will dry up. They’ll be filing for bankruptcy before the end of the year.’

  ‘Tempting,’ said Bald. ‘But that ain’t gonna pay the bills.’

  Strickland grinned. ‘Those contracts will have to go somewhere else, John. We could send them your way. Set you up with your own private company. Help you get back on your feet.’

  ‘I’d prefer hard cash.’

  ‘This is our final offer. You won’t get a better one. Not in your circumstances.’

  Bald stroked his chin and chewed on a thought. Strickland was right. He had nothing else going on in his life. If he walked away now, he’d be going back to a dull, quiet existence managing a failing business. More than that, he’d be turning his back on the chance to make some proper cash. With Six putting in a good word for him and sending clients his way, he could make a killing in the private security sector.

  Play your cards right, the voice told him, and this could be the chance you’ve been waiting for all these years. The chance to earn your fortune.

  ‘Fuck it,’ he said. ‘I’m in.’

  ‘Good.’ Strickland smiled. ‘One of our drivers will escort you to your accommodation for the evening, immediately after we’ve finished up here. You’ll stay at an apartment belonging to Roddy’s firm, over in Paddington.’

  ‘When do we fly out?’ asked Porter.

  ‘Tomorrow afternoon. Hugo will take care of the arrangements. Now, unless you have any other questions . . .?’

  Bald and Porter looked at one another and shook their heads.

  ‘Then it’s settled.’

  Strickland glanced round at the other faces in the room. ‘Thank you, everyone. I think we’re done for the evening. Sebastien will show you out.’

  The door buzzed open. The flunky with the crew cut stood in the doorway while Iverson, Carter and the two Americans gathered up their files and briefcases and nodded their goodbyes. Then they filed out of the room, the dull patter of their footsteps softening as they marched back down the corridor. Strickland watched them depart before slanting her gaze back to Bald and Porter.

  ‘You’ll need clean passports, work visas and company credit cards. Plus some walk-around money. Everything will be issued to you tomorrow morning, before you depart.’

  ‘I’ll need fresh clothes,’ Porter pointed out. ‘Toiletries as well. Didn’t have a chance to collect my go-bag before coming here.’

  ‘Make a list and give it to Hugo. He’ll take care of it.’

  ‘Roger that.’

  ‘One more thing.’ Strickland levelled her gaze at Bald and Porter before she went on. ‘This operation is strictly deniable. Aside from the people in this room, and a handful of others close to the PM, no one else is aware of it.’

  ‘Same old story,’ Bald muttered. ‘We take all the risks, while you lot get the glory.’

  Strickland eyeballed him. ‘I’m telling you this so you’re under no illusions. We’ll provide as much support as we can – and so will our friends at the Company, within reason – but once you’re on the ground in Venezuela, you’re on your own.’

  ‘It could get noisy. We might have to drop bodies.’

  ‘As long as you don’t take casualties yourself. This needs to be more one-sided than that drubbing Rangers dished out to Dundee the other week. Five–nil, wasn’t it? Hendrie hat-trick.’

  ‘Totally unfair. Red card before half-time changed everything. Ref should never have sent him off.’

  ‘You can’t tackle from behind these days. Everyone knows that.’

  Christ, thought Bald. This lass even knows her football. She went up in his estimation even further.

  Strickland pressed her
hands together.

  ‘Now, before you two leave, there’s someone else I want you to meet . . .’

  TEN

  Strickland gave an order to Hugo Merrick to go and fetch their guest. He promptly stood up and left the briefing room, the door slamming shut behind him. Thirty seconds later, he stepped back into the room, followed by a second man. He was short and fat and dressed like a British dandy, with a three-piece tweed suit and yellow-and-blue striped tie. A silk handkerchief poked like a spear-tip out of his breast pocket. His tan leather brogues looked like they cost more than Porter’s monthly pay packet. The guy looked to be in his early forties, with thinning red hair brushed into a neat side parting. A large paunch threatened to burst out of his buttoned-up waistcoat.

  He scanned the room and noticed Bald and Porter sitting to one side of the table. His gaze hovered briefly over them before Strickland rose from her chair to greet him.

  ‘Sorry to keep you waiting, Julian.’

  The guy dismissed her apology with a brisk wave. ‘Not at all, Madeleine. Happy to be of service.’

  He looked and sounded like a chubby pastiche of an Edwardian gent, but there was a calculating look in his eyes and a steely edge to his voice, thought Bald. As if his whole look was an act, designed to trick people into dismissing him as a joke.

  ‘Please,’ Strickland said. ‘Take a seat.’

  The guy made himself comfortable while Strickland made the introductions.

  ‘Julian, these are the two gentlemen I was telling you about. They’re going to be spearheading the operation.’

  ‘I see.’ He studied the two old Blades for a few moments, regarding them the way a farmer might assess cattle at a market. ‘Madeleine tells me you’re ex-SAS?’

  ‘Long time ago,’ Bald said. ‘And you are . . .?’

  ‘Julian Cantwell. Founder of Cantwell Consulting Group.’

  ‘Julian runs a political consultancy across town,’ Strickland explained. ‘He’s been briefed on the operation to rescue Caroline. Broad brushstrokes.’

  ‘What’s his involvement?’ Porter asked.

  ‘Julian went to university with Fuller. He’s kindly offered to help shed some light on how she might react, when you find her.’