Seek and Destroy

by Alan McDermott

  CHAPTER 14

  The rain had decided to stay away, but the crisp, blue January sky meant temperatures would be hovering close to freezing. Durston was grateful not to be at the mercy of the elements. Dubowitz had drawn the short straw and was stationed at the back of the Harvey house, keeping an eye out for Gray.

  Durston and Feinberg approached the white van and Durston spoke into the microphone attached to his collar.

  “We’re here,” he said.

  The team they were to relieve, Cobra One, had chosen a good location for the op. The house five doors down from Harvey’s was being renovated, so no one would suspect one more work vehicle parked in the street.

  The back door of the van opened and two men in coveralls got out. Durston and Feinberg took their places. They were similarly dressed in blue overalls, in keeping with the plumbing company’s name plastered across the sides of the vehicle. The remaining member of Cobra One had stayed inside the van to perform the handover, and he introduced himself simply as Mitch.

  A laptop was open, and Mitch went through a list of photos the team had taken during their stint near Andrew Harvey’s home. He compared each picture to a handwritten list on his notepad.

  “Andrew Harvey left the house at 0726 hours. He drove away in this car.” Mitch scrolled through a series of images until he had Harvey in the center of the screen, getting into a vehicle. As he moved through more images, Durston saw a series of shots depicting a rather large lady as she walked toward Harvey’s house. She looked down at her phone, then climbed the steps and rang the bell. The door was answered by a blond in her late thirties.

  “We haven’t ID’d the visitor yet. I sent the images to Nest. The woman who answered the door is Sarah Thompson, Harvey’s fiancée.”

  The slideshow over, Durston hoped his shift would be a little more exciting than the one the Cobra team had been forced to endure.

  Mitch radioed Nest, confirmed his departure, and left the van. Durston signed on and opened the thermos he’d brought with him. The aroma of fresh coffee filled the van.

  Half an hour into the op, Nest contacted them.

  “We have an ID on the old woman. Her name’s Janice Olsen. She works as a nanny through a local agency.”

  “Roger that.”

  It wasn’t particularly interesting news. What Durston wanted was for Tom Gray to show his face. Unfortunately, he was unlikely to turn up while Harvey was at work, so he resigned himself to another nine hours of boredom.

  When Sonny’s message came through on the Shield app, Tom Gray was ready to move.

  “Get your coat on, sweetheart. It’s time to go and visit Auntie Sarah.”

  Thrilled at the prospect of seeing Sarah again, Melissa became a whirlwind of activity, gathering her belongings. Two minutes later, they took the elevator down to the opulent lobby and saw the diminutive figure of Hamad Farsi standing at the reception desk.

  “Great to see you again, Tom.”

  Gray ignored the outstretched hand and pulled him in for a man hug. “You too, Hamad. How’s the leg?”

  “It’s fine. Time’s a great healer and all that.”

  Hamad did indeed look well. Hard to believe that just a couple of years earlier, the MI5 agent had been run down by an SUV full of Russian mobsters and suffered severe pelvic damage.

  “Andrew’s waiting. We should go.”

  Hamad nodded to the desk clerk, who walked to an office door and opened it. Hamad led Gray and Melissa through it and took them down narrow corridors until they came to a fire exit. Outside, a black Ford was waiting in a gated courtyard.

  Hamad drove them along Piccadilly to Wellington Arch, then headed north. Fifteen minutes later, they stopped outside a curry house on Edgware Road.

  “No tail,” Hamad said. “Andrew’s down that side street. Take Melissa to him and I’ll wait here.”

  Gray helped his daughter out of the car and led her around the corner. Harvey’s BMW was where Hamad had said it would be. He opened the back door and threw Melissa’s bag in, then put her in the booster seat and fastened her seatbelt.

  “You be a good girl for Auntie Sarah, okay?”

  “I will, Daddy. How long will you be?”

  “A few days,” Gray told her. In truth, he had no idea how long it would take to resolve the situation, but he wanted her out of his sight for as little time as possible. “I’ll be back for you, I promise.”

  He kissed her, then closed the door.

  Harvey rolled down his window. “I spoke to Veronica. I’m sorry, but we can’t help out in any way. The Home Office actually suspects her of being part of the ESO, so if we go looking in that direction, it’ll be career-ending.”

  It wasn’t what Gray wanted to hear, but knowing Andrew, he would have done his utmost to help. It left Gray in a tight spot. Identifying the people after him was going to be a job of mammoth proportions.

  “Understood. Thanks for trying. Take care of my girl.”

  Gray tapped the top of the car and walked back to Hamad’s vehicle, waving to Melissa as the BMW passed by. In recent years he’d seen more than his fair share of action, but the hardest part wasn’t dodging bullets or fighting one-on-one to the death—it was wondering if he’d ever see his daughter again.

  His chest felt hollow as he climbed back into Hamad’s Ford: a portent of bad times ahead, perhaps. He tried to shake it. It happened every time he had to be apart from Melissa.

  “What’s the plan?” Gray asked Hamad.

  “Len and Sonny booked a couple of rooms at a hotel in Surrey. It’s far enough out of the city that no one should be looking for you. We should be there in about an hour.”

  As they drove southwest, they caught up on the last couple of years, but Gray was more concerned with the immediate future.

  “Boss,” Feinberg said as he snapped away with the digital camera. “Looks like Harvey’s back, and he’s got company.”

  Durston moved to the front of the vehicle and saw the MI5 agent with a young girl at his side. He was carrying an overnight bag and walking toward the house.

  “Is that Gray’s kid?”

  “No idea,” Feinberg said. “I’ll send these to Nest for an ID.”

  Feinberg downloaded the images he’d taken and sent a request for an immediate workup. The answer was back in five minutes, by which time Harvey had left again.

  Alone.

  “Viper One, that’s Gray’s girl, Melissa.”

  “Roger. Do you want us to go in now?”

  “Wait one.”

  “Sir, they have the opportunity. I think we should take it.”

  Langton looked at Eckman the way an alpha-male lion would eye a rival male. “That’s why I get paid to make the important decisions. Have you seen the photos they’ve been sending through? There’s too much foot traffic in the area to hit them in daylight. Let me think for a moment.”

  Langton left the room and headed to the kitchen, where he ordered his chef to prepare him a coffee. He needed to get the girl somewhere safe, where Gray would never find her. MI5 would be all over the case in minutes, and London would be on effective lockdown until the girl was found. He couldn’t let that happen. He needed time to convince Gray to speak to Smart and Baines and get them to give up Driscoll.

  A thought struck him, and Langton worked on it as he walked back to the control room.

  “Tell Viper One to wait until the nanny leaves in the evening, then tail her and hurt her. Nothing serious, but she must be unable to work tomorrow. Break a leg or something.”

  “And then?”

  “One of our assets in London is female. I want you to create a cover story for her. I want it to look like she’s been in the nanny business all her life. When this Olsen woman calls Harvey to say she can’t get in tomorrow, he’ll look for a replacement. I want you to intercept his call to the employment agency and recommend . . . what’s her name?”

  “The female asset? Jane Connor.”

  “Right. Recommend Connor as a repla
cement, starting tomorrow. Tell her to find an excuse to take the children out for the day. That way, we’ll have a few hours before anyone gets suspicious. That’ll be plenty of time.”

  “To do what, sir?”

  “Fly them here.” Langton smiled.

  “You want Connor to bring the Gray girl here?”

  “It’s perfect. This island doesn’t officially exist, so there’s no way Gray could find her. We send him a snap of his kid on the beach, then make our demands.”

  “Except we don’t have Gray’s contact details,” Eckman pointed out.

  Langton could have kicked himself for missing the obvious. “Then we send the picture to Harvey, and he shows Gray.”

  “That would mean dumping Harvey’s kid in the street,” Eckman said.

  Langton failed to see a problem with it. “So?”

  “So, why not bring her along? Double insurance, if you will.”

  The house wasn’t set up to accommodate a baby, but then again, they would only have to keep the girls alive until Gray had fulfilled his part of the bargain and Driscoll was dead.

  “Fine, bring them both. Have the plane standing by to lift off at an hour’s notice, and make sure they have diapers and formula on board.”

  “Sir, the jet’s in Washington.”

  “Then get it closer! Do I have to think of everything?”

  Eckman issued orders to the team. Edwin Masters began a search for airports that could take the 737, while Dennis Turner began creating a legend to turn Jane Connor into Andrew Harvey’s new nanny.

  “Viper One, this is Nest.”

  Durston listened to the instructions, then acknowledged them and ended the discussion.

  “Looks like we’re going to a see a little action after all, only it won’t be Gray or Harvey,” he told Feinberg.

  He was unsure why Nest wanted a hit on the nanny, but orders were orders.

  “We have to take Janice Olsen out, but make it look like an accident. Not kill her, just make sure she can’t work tomorrow. She must be able to call Harvey tonight, so not too rough. Any ideas?”

  “A street robbery?” Feinberg suggested.

  “In this area? Unlikely. Plus Harvey’ll get suspicious if his new nanny’s attacked on her first day.”

  They batted ideas back and forth for a few minutes, before Durston came up with the perfect solution.

  CHAPTER 15

  Hamad dropped Gray off outside the four-star hotel in the center of Guildford, Surrey. Gray took his suitcase from the trunk and said his goodbyes, then walked into the lobby. He found Len Smart sitting in an armchair, reading his Kindle.

  “Are you ever off that thing?”

  “Food for the brain, mate. It’s scientifically proven that people who read are more intelligent than those who don’t. Take Sonny, for example.”

  “Fair point. So, what’re you reading this time? A bit of Proust? Wittgenstein, perhaps?”

  “It’s Those that Remain by Rob Ashman. It’s not often I find a serial killer story that I can’t put down, but this one’s gripping. I’ve already bought the other two books in the series, so if you could hold off on your crusade for the next couple of days, I’d appreciate it.”

  “No can do. We need to get cracking.”

  Len groaned and put his device away, then showed Gray to the room he’d booked for him. Len slotted the card into the door and opened it, and they walked in.

  The room was quite large, but full of people. There were two single beds, an armchair, and a desk with a wooden seat. All were occupied.

  Sonny stood and did the introductions. “This is Eva, that’s Rees, Carl, Farooq, and you know me and Len.”

  Gray stowed his case at the side of the wardrobe and found himself gaping at Eva. She was absolutely captivating—like a young Deborah Harry, but with a steely quality that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

  “Yeah, I was like that when I first met her, too.” Sonny grinned.

  Gray realized he’d been staring, and Carl put his arm around Eva’s shoulder to show where her affections lay.

  “Sorry,” Gray said. “I was expecting someone a little more . . .”

  “Butch?” Eva smiled. “I can break Sonny’s face, if that’ll help.”

  “It would, actually.”

  With the tension eased, Gray took a seat on the bed next to Sonny. “I spoke to Andrew Harvey. We can’t expect any help from MI5. We’re on our own.”

  All eyes turned to Eva.

  “It was always a long shot,” she said. “Though it doesn’t leave us with many options. Two I can think of are President Russell and Bill Sanders.”

  “Just ring up the president, eh?” said Gray.

  She shrugged. “He gave us the get-out-of-jail-free cards and he’s taken a personal interest in the search for the remaining ESO members. The only difficulty would be getting access to him. I have a feeling that if I call the White House, they’ll be in no hurry to put me through to him.”

  “What does that leave us with?”

  “Bill Sanders, director of the CIA until Russell’s purge. He ran clandestine operations when Carl and I trained back in 2006.”

  “Do you think it’ll do any good?” Rees Colback asked. “I know he sent Carl to help us last year, but now that he’s out in the cold . . .”

  “We don’t need access to his databases,” Carl said. “We just need to know who he reported to.”

  “Any particular reason he should tell you?” Gray asked. “I mean, if he’s a suspect, is he likely to say anything incriminating? For all he knows, you could be working for Russell.”

  “Maybe out of respect,” Eva said. “I had something on him for years. Video recordings that could have ruined him. After he sent Carl to our aid, I handed them over.”

  “Then he might consider you quits.”

  “Not quite. I could have told Russell that Sanders was taking orders from the ESO, but I didn’t. I had a feeling that information would come in handy one day.” Eva turned to Farooq. “Can you set up a VoIP call and disguise our location?”

  “Sure. Give me a couple of minutes.”

  “What’s VoIP?” Len asked.

  “Voice over Internet Protocol,” Farooq said. “I’ll use an unregistered cell as a Wi-Fi hotspot and bounce the call signal from my laptop through a hundred countries. By the time they get a trace, it’ll be too late.”

  True to his word, two minutes later, he gave Eva the go-ahead.

  Eva dialed the number she’d had Farooq find earlier and waited for the call to connect. She put it on speakerphone.

  “Sanders.”

  “Hi, Bill. Remember me?”

  “Sure. You calling to gloat? Rub my face in it?”

  “No,” Eva said. “I need your help.”

  “You’ve got some nerve. I should—”

  “You should what? Thank me for saving your ass? You’re welcome.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’ve got two hours to find a burner cell and call me on this number.” She read out the digits and the country code. “Two hours.”

  Eva ended the call.

  “Do you think he’ll bite?”

  “He’ll bite. Time to get moving.”

  Eva and Huff rose and left the room.

  “Where’re they going?” Gray wanted to know.

  “As far as they can in the next two hours,” Farooq said. “We don’t want him calling while they’re at the hotel. Eva’ll turn her phone on just before he’s due to call, and if Sanders tries to trace her, he’ll see that she’s heading away from London on the M3.”

  “Smart move.”

  “She has her moments.”

  Sonny and Len ordered room service to each of the rooms they’d booked. It was now a waiting game, and they had less chance of developing an ulcer if they waited on a full stomach.

  CHAPTER 16

  Bill Sanders put down the phone and took a seat behind his desk.

  Of all the people in the
world, Eva Driscoll was the last person he’d expected to hear from again. Only months ago she’d been sent to prison for life, yet here she was giving him a number for a British cell phone. He recognized the country code, though it didn’t mean she was actually there.

  What concerned him most was her message. When she’d handed over the recordings of him making love to her all those years ago, he’d thought his troubles were behind him. But it seemed that Driscoll had held something back, despite promising she had nothing else on him.

  What could it be? More copies of the one-time tryst in his lakeside cabin? No, that wasn’t her style.

  Whatever it was, it would have to wait. He checked the fridge, then went to the garden and told his wife he was heading out for orange juice.

  He got in the car and drove to the nearest mall. He knew it had an electronics store, but first he found an ATM and withdrew three hundred bucks. Better to pay cash than have a credit card transaction to link back to him.

  With an hour to wait, Sanders bought a newspaper and found a diner, where he ordered bacon and eggs. His wife had him on a sadistic muesli breakfast diet, and what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. He washed it down with two cups of coffee, then walked to the nearby store and purchased a burner cell, which he took back to his Jeep.

  He still had twenty minutes to burn, but that’s all he’d done since they’d canned him a few weeks earlier: burn time . . . He had enough money that he’d never have to worry about finding work again. Which was handy, as in Washington being persona non grata was akin to having leprosy. No one wanted to associate with him for fear of being infected with his career-ending disease. He spent his days puttering about the substantial house, checking his investment portfolio, and wishing he had a liking for sports so that he could at least veg out in front of the TV every now and then.

  That, and waiting for his turn under the microscope.

  He spent a couple of minutes setting up the phone, hoping the fifty bucks of credit would be enough for the international call. Somehow, he didn’t expect Driscoll would be talking for long.

  A minute ahead of time, he dialed the number she’d given him and waited for her to answer.