The Fifth Man (Ben Sign Book 2)

by Matthew Dunn

  Rojo fired his last shot. It grazed Sign’s jacket but didn’t touch flesh.

  Sign walked fast down the range, firing two shots into Rojo’s chest. He stood over the dead man and put another bullet into his brain. He sighed and crouched. He’d knew that later he’d feel emotion about how the day had unfolded, but now was not the time to dwell on such matters. He searched Rojo and found nothing – no ID, phone, wallet, receipts, maps, or anything else that might prove useful. He walked back to Knutsen. “How are you, dear chap?”

  “Stings a lot, but that’s about it. Pull me up.” He extended his good arm.

  Sign got him to his feet. “We’ll get you sorted. Let’s get in the house.” When inside, Sign used Maloney’s landline to call RAF Mount Pleasant. “My name is General Ben Sign. I need to speak to Colonel Richards urgently.” When Richards was on the line, Sign said, “I need you to come to the house belonging to the man you mentioned to me this morning. Bring three trusted men who are privy to the knowledge about the fifth man. Also bring two body bags, bleach, a mop, bin bags, and shovels. Two of your men must not be squeamish and must understand how to leave a house pristine after a killing. The third needs to be medically trained to deal with a minor gunshot wound. He must bring supplies.” The colonel tried to reply, but Sign snapped, “Just do it now!”

  It took Richards and his three soldiers two hours to arrive at the scene. They’d made excellent time, given Richards would have had to assemble his men and their kit before making a drive that ordinarily would take at least an hour and a half, usually more in this weather.

  Richards entered the house with his soldiers. “What are we looking at?”

  Sign pulled him to one side, out of earshot of Richards’ men. He had to partially tell the colonel the truth, and partially lie. “The man on the floor is Maloney. He needs to be disposed of. The site around the killing needs to be sanitised. I can tell you how to do that, if you like.”

  “I know how to do it!”

  “There’s another dead man on the shooting range. He killed Maloney. Knutsen and I had to shoot him. He also needs removing and disposing of somewhere. No one must know about this. The snow contains blood. It needs rotavating. That’s what the shovels are for. More snow’s coming, I know, but we need to cover the blood in case someone comes here in the next hour or so. No one must know what happened here.”

  “And what did happen here?”

  Sign gave him a version of the truth, adding, “The man in the firing range was trying to kill us. He could be the fifth man, or a friend of his. He came here to shut Maloney up. But, I can’t yet tell you for certain that I’m right. I need to continue my investigation to be sure.”

  Under no circumstances could he tell Richards that there was an Argentinian assassination squad on the ground. If he did so, Richards would be compelled to spring into action. Sign’s under-the-radar investigation would have zero chance of progressing.

  Richards nodded. “Okay. We’ll dispose of the bodies and clean up the place. I’ll make sure my three men don’t talk. We’ll patch up Knutsen. You’re going to need to check the jeep outside.”

  “I’m not hopeful. Most likely it was bought with cash. It’s untraceable. There’ll be no car insurance, no road tax, nothing that links the car to its owner.”

  “DNA?”

  Sign shrugged. “If you want to DNA test every islander, good luck with that. They might think something’s a little off. It will set tongues wagging.”

  Richards stamped the ground. “Damn it.” He composed himself. “You’re right. This needs to be covered up.” He glanced at Knutsen, who was being patched up by Richards’ medic. “We’ll sort this mess out. As soon as Knutsen’s been attended to, I want you both to get out of here. Head back to your cottage. Lie low for the night. I’ll try to find out the identity of the dead man on the range, though I’m not hopeful.” He looked at the ground. “If he’s the fifth man, you’ve killed the only hope we had of proving that Argentina committed an act of aggression on British nationals. There will be no UK retaliation. The Argentinian spy ship will have got off scot-free.”

  Sign said, “Come with me.” Outside the cottage, Sign said, “There is a possibility that the dead man isn’t the fifth man. In fact, I can’t see why the fifth man would come here and kill Maloney. The fifth man is scared and in hiding. He might be worried that men like us might put two and two together and link him to Maloney. That’s one thing. Shooting a man in cold blood is another matter altogether. Trust me on that.”

  Richards did. He’d seen a lot of death during his time in the SBS. “We’ll sink the killer and Maloney in the sea. They’ll never be found. That may be the end of the case. If so, you and Knutsen will be on the next flight out of here, once flights resume.”

  Sign couldn’t let that happen. Quietly, he said, “This isn’t dead in the water. There’s still hope. Give me and Knutsen a few more days to find out if the fifth man’s still alive. By the way, that’s not a request. We’ll do what we like. I’m just being polite to you.”

  Richards laughed. “You really are a piece of work. Okay, I’ll grant you that window. But, if the killer isn’t the fifth man then who is he?”

  “My guess is he’s a private investigator, contracted by Argentina to source the fifth man. He failed; we won. Argentina can’t deploy another investigator to the islands while this weather holds and flights are cancelled. We bury this and we bury it fast.”

  Richards nodded.

  Knutsen emerged from the house. His arm was strapped to his chest, but aside from that he looked well.

  Sign said, “Mr. Knutsen. We need to examine the dead man’s car. After that, it is time for us to make our excuses and leave. The colonel has this in hand. I will drive us home.”

  Casero called Sosa. “Our friend, Mr. R, has not called me. I’ve tried his mobile several times but there’s no answer. Something doesn’t feel right. I’ll keep trying his phone over the next two hours. If he still doesn’t answer, I will call you and Miss F and give you both fresh instructions.”

  Sign and Knutsen were back at their Bluff Cove cottage. Outside, it was getting dark. Sign insisted that Knutsen sit in front of the log burner. Sign lit the fire and went into the kitchen to prepare lamb cutlets seasoned with rosemary, mash potato, vegetables, and an onion and pepper gravy. When the dinner was cooking, he returned to the lounge, holding two glasses of brandy. He handed one out to Sign. “I know you’re not a good shot with your left arm, but you can probably hold one of these.” He smiled and sat opposite Knutsen.

  Both men felt weary. Sign stretched out his legs. Knutsen was moving awkwardly in his seat, trying to get into a comfortable position. He said, “Sod this thing.” He removed the sling, tossed it on the floor, and raised and lowered his injured arm. “Mobility’s fine.” He stood and walked to the dining table. On it was his Glock. He picked up the weapon with both hands, placed his left foot slightly in front of his other foot, slightly bent his knees, and aimed at a pot that was hanging from a meat hook in the kitchen. “Can you come here? I need your help.”

  Sign obliged.

  Knutsen said, “Stand in front of the gun and place your palm against the muzzle. Give the gun two strong pushes. I want you to mimic the recoil of a .45 calibre weapon.” Knutsen wanted to see if the action put his aim off. And he also wanted to know the effect it would have on his injury. Sign pressed twice. Knutsen nodded and lowered his weapon. “I’m good for head shots. My arm smarts a bit, but other than that I’m fully functioning.” He placed the gun back on the table. Both men returned to their seats by the fire and sipped their drinks.

  Sign asked, “How did the medic treat you?”

  “He checked the wound to see if there were any bullet fragments or bits of cloth in the cut. There weren’t. So, he disinfected the wound, put a local anaesthetic around it, and gave me three stitches. The stitches aren’t going anywhere for a week. I asked the medic if I could exercise with my arm. He told me I could because the
stitches are as strong as skin. I guess the sling was just for show – make me look like a wounded soldier.” He smiled.

  Sign rubbed his eyes. “I haven’t killed anyone in years.”

  “I know.” Knutsen watched his colleague. “How do you feel?”

  “I feel like I had to do a job under extraordinary circumstances, but…”

  “It still doesn’t make it any easier. I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For getting shot and leaving you to execute the assassin. I should have been more careful.”

  Sign shook his head. “You did everything right. We both know that things rarely pan out according to plan when guns are involved. That said, I truly regret that we didn’t get to Maloney quicker. And I regret that I didn’t advise Sally to stay somewhere safe until this matter was concluded. Their deaths are on my conscience.”

  Knutsen could see the anguish on Sign’s face. “None of this was your fault. Sally and Maloney were murdered by Argentinian assassins.”

  “And I should have been one step ahead of them!” Sign slapped his hand against his thigh. “It was obvious that they’d speak to Sally, though I didn’t anticipate they’d take such drastic measures. That’s my fault. I didn’t know that Sally was aware of Maloney and his gun range. That’s also my fault.” He downed his brandy in one gulp.

  “You’re being too hard on yourself. In any case, we can’t look back. All that matters is what happens next.”

  Sign nodded slowly. His voice was distant as he said, “I must predict the future. And this time I must be accurate.” His voice strengthened as he looked at Knutsen and said, “I don’t think the remaining three assassins know about Peter Hunt. That information had only been imparted to the killer a second or two before we arrived at Maloney’s house. The assassin had no phone on him. It would have been impossible to communicate Hunt’s name to his colleagues. The protocol was simple and effective – the killer drives to Maloney’s house; he carries no ID and mobile phone; the vehicle is either purchased or more likely rented for a week from a local farmer; it would have been a cash transaction; the assassin would call his colleagues when he was back in his accommodation. So, what happens next? His colleagues will be getting worried because they haven’t heard from him. But, they’ll not be overly worried for a few hours, just in case his silence is due to a misfortune – his car’s broken down, something like that. But, we’re dealing with professionals. There is the possibility that the killer placed his mobile into a waterproof bag and buried it a mile or so from Maloney’s house, before arriving there. The assassin I shot is the man who entered this country using a fake passport in the name of Max Bosch. He’s pretending to be a South African shipping insurance specialist. But wherever he was staying on the islands, he won’t have used that name to secure a hotel room or holiday let. And when making the booking, he’ll have switched accents to another nationality. He’ll have also given the booking receptionist a different lie as to why he was here.”

  “We could make some enquiries. Knock on the doors of every hotel, B&B, and holiday cottage in and around Stanley. There can’t be many of them.”

  “We could, but it will still take time. Moreover, we have three problems. First, I doubt Bosch has left anything compromising in his room, and even if he has what use will it be to us?”

  “His mobile phone would be tremendously useful. It would give us access to the other three assassins. We could send them messages, pretending to be Bosch or whatever his real name is.”

  Sign shook his head. “I doubt they communicate via text messages. But if they do they’ll have one-time codes that clarify the sender is legitimate.”

  “One-time codes?”

  “They’re unbreakable. If I send a message saying, Let’s meet at the usual RV in one hour, I’ll end that message with the word Stradivarius at the beginning or end of the message. The next message will have the word Illinois. Or random words like that. The code word can only be used once per message, and each code word is unique to the sender. The other assassins will have memorized Bosch’s one-time code words before leaving Argentina. So long as he uses the correct code words, and uses them in the correct sequence, they know it’s him sending the messages. And when they reply to him, he will know their respective code words. It’s failsafe unless men like me can access the words. That is impossible. But, I suspect they’re not using texts with one-time codes. I think they’re calling each other, while being very careful about what they say on the phone. Reception on the islands is currently hit and miss. They won’t risk a text message failing to be sent or received. Only a person-to-person call can guarantee that information has been relayed.” Sign swirled his glass, even though there was nothing in it. “His phone is useless to us. The second problem we have is that Richards has added heavy weights to Bosch and Maloney and dumped them in the sea. We don’t want to start making enquiries about a man fitting Bosch’s description. It would undermine the whole point of making him vanish.”

  “And the third problem?”

  “If we start making enquiries with multiple locals, we become visible to locals. And, if we become visible to islanders, it’s only a matter of time before we become visible to the three assassins. That must be avoided at all costs.”

  “Because their next play is to find us and make us talk. We think Sally gave her killer our names.”

  “Yes.”

  Knutsen intertwined his fingers, ignoring the jolt of pain in his arm. “It would be quite hard to find us. Our cottage isn’t registered in our names. Richards secured the booking. But…”

  “There is Richards.” Sign’s eyes glistened. He liked seeing Knutsen work out what Sign had already worked out. It made him proud of his colleague. “Carry on.”

  “If the assassins are clever, they’ll assume that Richards is somehow involved in our presence here. They might even deduce that he commissioned us to investigate the deaths of Wilson and his mates, and find the fifth man. They might think we’re accommodated in Mount Pleasant. Or they might conclude that we’re somewhere else, because we want to distance ourselves from the military base. Either way, the best way to get to us is through Richards.”

  “Correct.”

  “But, he’s guarded by an army. The assassins know they can’t get to the most senior British commander in the Falklands.”

  Sign wished that were true. “We must prepare for any possibility. The assassins are now desperate. And we know for a fact that they have no problem with torture. When they conclude,” he looked at his watch, “any moment now that the assassin calling himself Max Bosch is missing, they will decide he’s dead. They will check Maloney’s house and decide that he too is missing, presumed dead. They will put two and two together and hope that Maloney told Bosch something of vital importance. But, Bosch took that information to his watery grave.”

  “Do you think that they’ll assume you and I killed him?”

  “Yes.”

  Knutsen was deep in thought. “Richards is an impossible target. Maybe they’ll go for someone else who they think knows our whereabouts? Maybe the governor of the islands?”

  “They know the governor won’t be privy to this investigation. He’ll be the last high ranking person to know about the fifth man and the possibility that his islands may be used as a launch pad for an assault against the Argentinian coastline. No, the assassins won’t go after the governor.”

  “They’ll go after Richards. You should warn him.”

  “I can’t tell him about the assassins.”

  “Things have changed!”

  Sign took Knutsen’s glass, walked into the kitchen, and returned with more brandy for them both. “Change is in the eye of the beholder. It is up to Richards to deduce what we have deduced – that Sally and Maloney were murdered by an assassination squad.”

  “Oh come on! You can’t leave Richards’ fate to his own ability or otherwise to correctly deduce the threats around him. Tell him about the Argentinian operatives. Get
him to summon the SBS unit in Antarctica. They’ll hunt down the assassins and kill them.”

  “They’ll be able to kill them, but they won’t be able to hunt them down. They don’t have our skills.”

  “Then, we track them down!”

  Sign sipped his brandy. “You and I have a hunt on our hands, but it is not to chase assassins. Our focus is to get to Peter Hunt. We must stay rifle shot on that task. Richards can look after himself.”

  “But if he can’t he’ll lead them straight to us.”

  “We must take our chances.”

  Knutsen frowned. “There’s something you’re not telling me. It’s not in your nature to be cavalier about someone’s life. You wouldn’t leave Richards hanging.”

  Sign placed his glass down and stared at the fire. “I’ve ensured that Richards is not at risk. He doesn’t know this, but I’ve extended the lease on this cottage for a further week. And I’ve used my name to make the booking.”

  Knutsen was incredulous. “You’re bringing the assassins to us!”

  “Yes, and it will be all three of them. They won’t take chances by just deploying one or two operatives.”

  “Jesus!”

  Sign laughed. “Look on the bright side. The local agent I made the booking with only works nine to five. She’s off work for the night. The assassins may canvas hotels and cottage lettings tonight. But if they strike lucky, it won’t happen until tomorrow. We have a good night’s sleep ahead of us.” Sign drank the rest of his drink and stood. “Peter Hunt is our priority. I’ve Googled his name. Alas, there’s no trace of such a man on the islands.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything. Half of the islanders don’t use Internet.”

  “Yes, and Hunt lives on the west island. Hardly anyone lives there. He likes to be away from the world and all its trappings. But, because he lives on such an uninhabited island, he won’t be difficult to find.” He looked around. “I need the car keys. Where did I put them?”