Tim Heath Thriller Boxset

by Tim Heath

  She said nothing, sitting there quietly. There was no sign of fear in her. It was unsettling for the others to watch.

  “What do you want with me?”

  “Please, we mean you no harm, if you can tell us what we know you know,” the man said, moving behind her, his hand running through her hair and onto her left cheek as he came to stand on her other side. “But if you do not help us,” he said, his hand moving down onto her neck then left breast, “things are going to get a lot more unpleasant for you.”

  “Enough, for now,” barked the oldest of the three men, the youngest one walking away from Yanmei and returning to his seat on the other side of the table. He didn’t take his eyes off her and wore an evil smile on his chubby face. Yanmei held his gaze before resting her eyes back onto the spokesman.

  “Yanmei, it is quite straightforward. We need to know who the man is that got left behind. His reputation is phenomenal. Our country’s answer to any threat we face, or so the legend goes.”

  “I cannot tell you anything about him. I don’t know who you are talking about,” but Yanmei was not a good liar at that moment.

  “But you do,” the third man said, silent up until that point. He had a gravelly tone about his voice, something that told the listener he was a heavy smoker. “We need to know about this so-called Shadow Man. We know he was operating in London at the time of the attack. We know a lot of things.”

  “And how do you know such things?” she said quietly as if the walls had ears. “This information is highly dangerous.”

  “We have our connections…and you have yours. Look, beautiful Yanmei, we’ll make this easy for you,” the youngest of the three said again, a man twice her age at fifty-two. “You go to whoever you need to go to and get us the information we need. We need to know who this man is and why he’s such a secret. We have the same interests at heart, my dear––our wonderful nation. We don’t want rogue agents walking about, doing their own thing. We want to bring him home. Now, can you get this information for us or are we going to have to apply some pressure?” He was up again and speaking quietly into her ear, his tongue licking her earlobe. Assessing her situation, she made a quick decision.

  “Okay, I’ll speak to someone I can trust. I’ll bring you what you need.”

  “Good girl,” said the spokesman. “We’ll have a driver take you wherever you need to go. Where shall we meet you when you have the information, assuming you don’t want to bring it back here?”

  “No,” she said quickly, thinking things through. “It would be too unsafe for us all.” She picked up a pen that was on the table in front of her and wrote down an address. “Meet me here, at seven tonight. Do you know where it is?” They glanced down at the piece of paper. A remote, barren place. Perfect, they felt. If she didn’t produce what they needed, no one would hear her screams.

  “We know where it is,” the youngest said, his eyes burning into her own green eyes that seemed to have newness of life about them.

  “Good, then we have an agreement. And gentlemen, make sure you come alone.”

  “Of course,” they replied. It was going to be more straightforward than they had feared.

  One hour later Yanmei was talking with a senior party official in the central party headquarters. She’d dismissed the driver who had delivered her to the address. She would be able to make her own way to the meeting place she’d arranged in two hours time.

  “I’m shocked that they have any word of him,” the General said. “They made no mention of where they got their information from?”

  “No, sir. They do seem to have someone behind the scenes who knows more than we would be happy about. I’ll find out before I leave, sir.”

  “Be safe, Yanmei. Take a team with you.”

  “I will.”

  “Actually, I’ll come with you. I’d like to see the look on their faces when I walk in.”

  “Very well, sir.”

  “Where is my brother, anyway?”

  “Panama, last I heard. Cleaning up for us, as always.”

  “Some things never change. Shall we go?”

  “I’m right behind you.”

  A convoy of three armour plated vehicles took them to the edge of the city, a barren area that had once been an enormous construction site. Money had run out, focus being placed elsewhere, and the buildings remained unfinished. They paused as they confirmed that their guests were ahead of them already, in place and no doubt waiting for her arrival. Weapons got rechecked, body armour put on by members of the Chinese Special forces team that were with them. Seconds later they were racing up to the waiting car, surrounding it, soldiers flanking both sides of the black saloon, weapons raised at the windows. Yanmei and the General got out of the vehicle and approached the car. A window lowered.

  “What is this?” the spokesman for the three said, the sight of the General shaking them all. He was as hard-line as they came.

  “You bitch!” the youngest of the three said, reaching to draw his weapon. He was shot through the head by a short burst from a machine gun that the soldier who was standing next to Yanmei fired. The other two sank back in their seats, blood on their faces, hands raised in surrender.

  “Look, we didn’t mean any harm. It was just a question. We just wanted some information from you, Yanm…”

  “From whom?” the General barked.

  “Pardon?”

  “Who asked you for this information? Who told you about this man? I need a name for your life.”

  “General, I don’t know what to say,” the spokesman said, hands raised, head lowered.

  “Shoot him,” the General ordered, the man in the car looking up in disbelief as a bullet went straight through his forehead, blood and brains splashing against the rear door behind him as his body slumped forward.

  “Oh God,” said the final one of the three.

  “So are you going to tell me the name of the man that put you up to this?” The General pulled his own revolver from his coat pocket and raised it to the man’s forehead. There was less than two feet between them both.

  “Yes, of course, sir. I’ll write it down for you.” He scrambled for a pen and some paper, his hand shaking in apparent fear. The gun never moved off him for one moment. Finally, he handed the General the piece of paper.

  “Who is this?” he said, reading the piece of paper, before handing it to Yanmei.

  “British Secret Service,” she said aloud.

  There was a moment’s silence before the sound of a gun crashed through like a firework on a night sky. The car filled with even more blood as the third man fell back in his seat.

  “Burn the car,” the General said before turning away. A team of soldiers proceeded to follow the instruction.

  Five minutes later as the convoy moved away from the area, a column of smoke was all that was left of the burnt out vehicle. Just another crime in the city, and if the remains were ever found, it would be impossible to tell who they once had been, let alone why they were there in the first place.

  “We need to find the British spy,” the General said. “Get her on the telephone for me.”

  She knew who he meant.

  “Is that wise? We usually use much less obvious ways, sir.”

  “We don’t have the time,” was all he said, and then remained silent for the rest of their journey back.

  4

  London, England

  “Prime Minister, it’s good to meet you again,” Adam Bennett said, shaking hands with Alan as he led his team into a small office that had been made available. “This is Lucy Wright and Peter Bridgestone,” he continued, handshakes all around. Daniel and Hugh had joined from the government’s side to even the numbers. As public figures, their introductions were not needed nor did Alan bother to try. Everyone took their seats.

  “So what do you have for us this time, Adam?” cutting to the chase as always. Alan Wells, for a politician, was a man of surprisingly few words. Even fewer for the Security Service of the nation he
now ran.

  “It’s not all good, I’m afraid.” No one said anything else to that, the faces of the three MI6 personnel giving nothing away. Adam proceeded to place some files on the table.

  “Go on,” the Prime Minister said, glancing at the growing mountain of documents building in front of them all.

  “This is everything we have on record that is public knowledge about the nuclear attacks on London five years ago and subsequent counter-attacks.” He placed another folder down, by far the thickest of the files now on the table. “And this is what the public hasn’t been told.” The folder landed with a bump.

  “Good God,” the Home Secretary let out automatically.

  “Okay, let us have it. What’s in that last folder?” the Prime Minister asked.

  Over the next thirty minutes, the team from MI6 carefully detailed what had happened. Starting with what went on way before the international talks, the Chinese involvement at the time, the role of John Westlake (known within the Service as The Last Prophet) and the action taken so that life as they knew it could go on. In thirty astonishing minutes, it was all laid out for them, like a Hollywood screenplay gone wild.

  “My goodness, what a bloody mess,” Alan said in his usual brash manner once the team from MI6 had finished. All three politicians sat back in their chairs, reeling from all that they’d just been told, their minds struggling to process it all.

  “Why are we only just finding this out now? It’s been five years.”

  “It’s national security protocol, sir. The official secrets act protects the information.”

  “My coming to power, the start of a new era, at no time did you lot think it might be just a little bit helpful for the new Prime Minister to be told about all this? That perhaps the knowledge of this would have a significant effect on what this nation does in the aftermath of the attacks that wiped out millions of people?”

  “In all due respect, sir, it doesn’t work like that.”

  “And you wonder why I don’t trust you all,” Alan shot back. “I’m the leader of this god-forsaken land and yet not one of you little people in your little secret society had any inkling that maybe, just maybe, this information would be useful for a few of us to know?” He was taking it too personally, and everyone there knew it, though none were saying anything for now.

  “As I’ve said, sir, it doesn’t work like that. Governments come and go, as you know for yourselves. Not all information of this type gets bandied around like open gossip. It’s too sensitive for that and for a good reason is locked away and covered by the secrets act.”

  “Well, maybe I should change legislation and stop that being the case. What would you all say to that?”

  “I think you are missing the point, sir,” Lucy said, doing her best to diffuse the situation.

  “And what is the point?” Alan said; his tone in addressing her was noticeably different from moments before.

  “That the Chinese know we stole the power plant blueprints and are now exacting their revenge.” The statement hung in the air like a horrible smell. It was the Foreign Secretary who leaned forward and spoke next.

  “What are they doing?”

  Adam took the floor once more. “The day that Beijing announced to the world that their new generation power plant was fully operational, the three British spies behind the theft all disappeared.”

  All three government men sat thinking for a moment, quietly contemplating their responses.

  “Are we certain the Chinese were behind these disappearances?”

  “Most certainly, sir. None of these people was easy to find. All three had excellent cover stories. We couldn’t go near them for fear that we would blow their cover. One was in a secure facility in North Korea, the other two in Siberia and Hong Kong.”

  “If they were so well hidden, how in the world do you suppose the Chinese are meant to have found them?” Daniel said.

  “That’s where it gets even more delicate,” Lucy said.

  “Well, go on then,” Alan said.

  “We believe they have a spying network that goes to the highest level.”

  “A mole? How high?”

  “We are uncertain on that, but the information on these three was very secretive. Only a few of our people had access to that level of information.”

  “Doesn’t that lead you right to the leak then?” Alan said.

  “It’s not quite that simple. These people are critical to the British Security Service, with years of unblemished service to the Queen. To even accuse them would be harmful. They’ve given everything to this country.”

  “Could the Chinese have found out another way?”

  “We are working on that, but have no idea how. Sensitive data was also stolen when the blueprints were, but we don’t believe our spies were linked to that.”

  “What else?” Alan said.

  “We believe the Chinese had a team, probably an individual, in operation throughout the nuclear incident. Someone responsible for the capture of the seven African agents, who are at this moment still held at Guantanamo. On the day the danger was averted, the day the blueprints got stolen again, the final three Chinese diplomats left London on a regular flight home. They’ve never returned to the UK. It’s almost certain that these three knew of the activities of this secret enforcer, and it’s highly likely that they carried with them the actual blueprints on that flight to China. That means they’ve met him. Now, the three involved are not thought to be the person we are after. One is an older man, the ambassador to the UK at the time. Another was a female, believed to be somewhere in central China at present. The third was another man, an attache with no military background. He’s also still in Beijing. Best intelligence is that the fourth man, this enforcer, stayed behind in the UK as a sleeper, of sorts.”

  “He’s still here?”

  “No, he’s most certainly moved on for now. The disappearances in Hong Kong, Siberia and North Korea, however, have his fingerprints all over them, figuratively speaking. Gets into three of the most difficult and different settings possible and gets away before anyone has even noticed anything has happened.”

  “But he couldn’t have been in all three places at the same time.”

  “No, of course not. But it’s not clear when the three went missing. We just became informed of the facts on the same day as the Chinese announced the opening of their power plant. I think it was a warning.”

  “Is anyone else at risk?” Alan said.

  “It depends how hard we push, as well as what you want us to do, Prime Minister?”

  Alan looked at his two colleagues. At the moment, the differences he had with each man seemed petty compared to what was facing them all now. Alan was glad they were there with him, in this all together. He indeed hadn’t signed up for this.

  “We can’t possibly leave a known Chinese spying network in place in this nation. It would threaten everything we are. We have to root this out, however ugly it gets. Am I clear on this?”

  “Absolutely, sir.”

  “Good, then where do we start?”

  “We’ll track down the people we know of who might have seen this enforcer. Get the Americans to start pressing the seven Africans they are holding in Cuba, for a start. They might have seen something. We’ll look at why the eighth man was killed at the time. Any connections that would suggest the two of them had crossed paths before.”

  “I guess you should track down those three Chinese who fled the UK,” Alan added. It was all an entirely new side to the job he’d never considered.

  “We’ve already been looking into that. Unfortunately, the previous ambassador, Jianguo Ming, was kidnapped in Nigeria about a month ago. It’s believed to have been carried out by Boko Haram. The other two are both reported to be in China. We have got an agent there now digging around with a group of senior army generals sympathetic to our advances.”

  “Very good. What of the kidnapping, however? Is there a risk there?”

  “There is a hu
ge risk, sir.”

  They spent the remainder of their time going over details, looking at maps, understanding as much as they could about the situation at hand. It was a baptism of fire for the three government suits as, senior as they were, it was a world they had not imagined they’d be entering just days before.

  Santiago, Panama

  It was another warm afternoon as Sergio pulled into the central shopping district of his adopted home. A million pounds went a long way in a place like this, and he’d put it to good use. He’d lived here for nearly five years since leaving England though he was native to Spain. It made settling into his new home much more comfortable, even if their accented Spanish was different from his. He had soon adjusted.

  He’d bought a couple of local businesses and ran them well. After a few years, he had become less hands-on. That allowed him to enjoy his wealth a little more, and golf became a favourite hobby, mainly for the social circuit it offered. He wasn’t much of a golfer, though he had improved marginally in his time spent under the central American sunshine walking the various courses the region had to offer.

  No one questioned his wealth. No one asked where it had all come from, especially now, with businesses doing well. They’d have provided enough wealth on their own to have satisfied any questions.

  But Sergio knew. And there was always this fear that his time would be up at any moment. That this life he’d fallen into when he rather innocently delivered a package to the British security service––a device with origins in China––all those years ago would suddenly come crashing down. In the early days, he’d thought about it often. Even after arriving in Panama, ending up there after passing through several countries looking for the best opportunities, he’d often wondered what he would do if he suddenly had to leave if they ever came looking for him. He slept very lightly in the early days, but as the months turned into years, and life settled into a comfortable routine of luxury, he was more at ease.