Lethal Promise

by Paul Stretton-Stephens

  Jago realised that he knew none of the answers to these questions and that he should.

  “Thanks, Abi. I can’t answer those questions, but I will get off now to find out the answers. Thanks for asking.”

  Jago ended the call and searched for the piece of paper that the woman at the mortuary had given him. He found it folded up in the back pocket of his trousers. After reading its contents, he understood that the authorities would contact Rebecca’s next of kin, whose details were in the back of her passport. He needed to contact them too, and he searched for a photograph of her passport on his phone. He entered the first telephone number, but couldn’t bring himself to connect. Instead, he rang Benny.

  The phone only rang twice before Benny answered. “Yes, can I help you?”

  “Benny, it’s me, Jago. You said I could call if I needed anything.”

  “Yes, I did. What is it you need?”

  “The deal with your boss was that my team and I would have unrestricted access to all the information that the Australian authorities had.”

  “Yes, I know; I was there, remember? Why, is there a problem?”

  “My operations manager is not being given information she’s requested, and your boss promised us access. I’d call that a problem. Can you fix it for me, please?”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “That’s not good enough. My team and I need that access. I don’t want to hear, ‘I’ll see what I can do.’ I want to hear, ‘I’ll sort that straight away, and your team will get all the information they need.’”

  “Okay, I hear you. I’ll get you your access to the information. Do you need anything else?”

  “Yes, my colleague Fi and I will need weapons permits immediately.”

  “I’ll sort that straight away, and you’ll be able to collect them from the main station at Mandurah after midday.”

  “That’s more like it. That’s what I call cooperation. Thanks, Benny.”

  Jago stared out of the window, deep in thought for a few minutes, before heading to the kitchen to find some breakfast. He made himself a coffee and found the milk and kids’ cereal. He cut up a kiwi and washed some grapes and put them in with the cereal. He took his breakfast onto the sizable terrace and played some gypsy jazz guitar music on his phone. He ate and relaxed a while knowing that he had plenty of time to shower and get ready to collect Fi.

  Chapter 8

  Jago arrived at the airport’s international terminal with plenty of time to spare. He walked among the hordes of arriving travellers and eager friends and relatives waiting for their loved ones. He checked the arrivals board for Fi’s incoming flight. The board showed that her flight was on time, meaning he had an hour to kill. He took a walk in the sunshine.

  There wasn’t much to walk around, just a large car park and a paved walkway that led nowhere interesting. He found a bench in full sun and sat looking up at the blue sky. The bench was hot to sit on and he only lasted a couple of minutes before he had to move. Instead, he leaned against it and continued his study of the cloudless sky.

  Jago stared into space for what seemed to him a long time, but in reality it was only a few minutes. Then he watched the flow of vehicles, most of them four-by-fours, leaving the airport. For a small airport it saw a lot of traffic, a constant stream. There were terminals here for both domestic and international flights, and the miners seemed to have their own terminal for their fly-in, fly-out operations. Jago thought about the ex-miner slumped over a computer terminal with a hole in his head and wondered what had possessed him to be part of the attack? What had gone so wrong for him to have been part of it?

  Jago checked his watch. He had thirty minutes more to wait. He headed back into the terminal, to a cafe on the concourse. Having waited his turn in the queue, he spoke to the young woman behind the counter.

  “I’d like a hot drink, please. Do you have Earl Grey?”

  “Yes, we do. Would you like that with milk?”

  “No, without please. And I’ll have a piece of that banana cake.”

  “Sure, no worries. Please take a seat and I’ll bring it over to you.”

  Jago looked at the banana cake again. It was in a glass cabinet and something in the reflection caught his eye. A familiar face. The man who was sitting at a table all alone behind him was the same one Jago had seen at the car park’s ticket machine earlier while he was out walking. He made a mental note and then went to sit down, selecting a seat where he was looking away from the man but could keep sight of him via the reflection in the glass partition wall.

  Within a couple of minutes, the young woman had placed Jago’s order on the table. Turning to his left, he checked the arrivals screen and glanced at the solitary figure. The man was of medium height, muscular and tanned, with short, dark hair, and approximately thirty years of age. Jago turned back to face the front, and finished his Earl Grey. Rising to his feet, he tucked his chair under the table before walking towards the arrivals area to collect Fi.

  A dozen or more people passed through the arrival’s doors, trolleys laden with suitcases, before Jago caught sight of Fi. She too was pushing a trolley, laden with her black diplomatic bags.

  As she approached him he mouthed to her, “Hug me, hug me.”

  She took her hands off the trolley, walked a couple of steps towards Jago and then gave him an almighty bear hug.

  “Hi, Boss,” she said when she let go. “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m okay. In fact, I’m good, Fi.”

  “You get the feeling we’re being watched?” asked Fi.

  “Yes, I do. Hence the invitation to hug. It will give them something to talk about. Anyway, did you bring all the gear?”

  “Yes, I brought all of it, and a little more. That was okay, wasn’t it? I mean, to bring a little extra. I mean, that’s why we get the diplomatic bags, isn’t it?”

  Jago smiled. “A little extra is always welcome. And we get the diplomatic bags courtesy of my old commander, even though we’re not on contract at the moment. Come on, let’s get going.”

  They ventured out into the car park, heading towards the truck that Hunter had loaned Jago. They arrived to see two slashed tyres.

  “Being watched and put off, and all in one day, eh? Come on, let’s get a taxi. We’ll send someone out to deal with the truck,” said Jago.

  They walked the short distance back to the terminal and waited in the shady line for a taxi.

  “Fi, wait here a minute. I’m just going to the bathroom.”

  Jago entered the terminal and leapt up the stairs two at a time to the first floor, which housed cafes, shops and bathrooms. Anyone following him would have had to be quick, and if they were listening from a distance, they would already know his destination and wouldn’t worry too much. They would take their time to move into an observation position.

  Jago ducked into a recessed doorway, the only observation point with cover anywhere near the bathrooms. He opened the door and waited behind it. He was at the entrance to the area outside a service lift. Within a couple of minutes, the man who’d sat behind him earlier appeared. Jago watched him through the crack in the door. The man did a cursory check to see if anyone was in the recess but didn’t think to check the door or beyond it. Jago waited, and the man relaxed, leaning against the wall. A group of young women to the right of the bathrooms caught his attention and he stood there ogling them.

  Jago sneaked out of the door at speed, grabbed the man from behind with his hand over his mouth and held a pen to his throat.

  “That’s it, relax. I just want to talk. Step back – easy, no sudden moves.”

  Jago backed the man through the doorway, and once they were beyond the door he dropped the pen and punched the man repeatedly in the kidneys. The man crumpled, giving Jago time to relieve him of his firearm, radio and wallet from his back pocket. The man tried to grab Jago’s leg and Jago shrugged him off. He persisted and Jago delivered a blow to the middle of the man’s upper back. Jago checked thro
ugh his wallet, which contained very little – no credit cards, no driver’s licence or other ID, no money.

  “Empty your other pockets.”

  The man didn’t move.

  “Do you hear me? Empty your pockets and do it now. I haven’t got time to waste.”

  The man sat up against the wall and placed keys, a small lock knife and a black leather ID cover on the floor.

  “The ID cover, open it up. I want to see it.”

  The man flipped it open to reveal an ASIS insignia, the Australian Secret Intelligence Service.

  “I can’t believe you guys actually carry ID. What’s the point of tailing me? I’m on your side.”

  The man didn’t speak.

  “Look, I don’t want to do you any harm, but if I don’t get the answers I need, you’ll leave me no choice.”

  At that moment the man’s radio came to life. “Sierra 5, this is Oscar. Report. Over … Sierra 5, can you read me? This is Oscar. Report. Over.”

  Jago turned to the man on the floor. “My guess is that you’re Sierra 5. Let’s find out.”

  Jago stood, passed the service lift door and looked out of a huge window overlooking the road exiting the car park. Then, assuming an Australian accent, he replied into the radio:

  “Hello, Oscar. Signal weak. I repeat, signal weak. Subject has left car park in a green Toyota pickup. Over.”

  “Roger that. Return to base to change your radio. Out.”

  Jago watched as two unmarked cars sped towards the terminal exit road in pursuit of the Toyota that Jago had spotted leaving. Jago then turned to the man on the floor, who hadn’t made a move; he knew enough not to rile his subject.

  “What shall I do with you, I wonder?”

  As Jago spoke he gripped the weapon and raised it menacingly. The man squirmed, not knowing what was coming next.

  “Remove your shirt and trousers.”

  The man went to stand.

  “Err, no. Do it down there and toss me your belt.”

  The man followed Jago’s instructions.

  “Now lie flat, face down, with your hands behind your back.”

  Jago knelt on the man’s lower back, pushed the wrists upwards behind the back, causing discomfort, and used the belt to secure them. He opened the folding knife and slashed at the shirt to create ties. Jago reinforced the belt with a couple of ties and then tied one around the man’s mouth as a gag. He then bound the man’s legs at the knees and ankles, and connected the bindings on the wrists to those on the ankles.

  Jago called Fi. “Take the next taxi that comes. I’ll be close by.”

  “Will do, Boss.”

  Jago remained in the service lift area and watched from a distance as the next taxi in the rank pulled forward and the driver got out to help Fi with her luggage. Jago exited the area and rapidly descended the stairs. As Fi’s taxi drew away he caught sight of a silver saloon car about to follow her. He could only see one occupant.

  The driver of the silver car had to wait for other vehicles to pull out into the main road. Jago seized the opportunity. He walked up to the car, pulled the gun and trained it on the driver.

  “Open the door and move over,” he instructed.

  The startled driver, a short-haired female in her mid-thirties, complied, and Jago got into the driver’s seat.

  “Toss your gun into my footwell … Now!”

  Shaking, the woman reached for her pistol.

  “I said now! Take the pistol in two fingers and toss it into the well.”

  She did as he asked.

  “That’s it, nice and easy does it.”

  The woman seemed relieved.

  “Now your radio. What call sign are you?”

  She tossed the radio into the footwell but remained silent.

  “Oh, you’re the silent ASIS officer type, are you? Well, if I were you, I’d put on my seatbelt. We wouldn’t want that little face of yours getting damaged, would we …?”

  As his words trailed off, he sped up and changed lanes. The woman took his advice.

  “What’s your name?”

  She answered, “Mary, my name’s Mary, Mr Jago.”

  “Cut the mister, just call me Jago. Why are you tailing me? I mean, I’m on your side. Wouldn’t you guys be better off tailing the bad guys?”

  Her face flushed and she looked downward into her footwell.

  “Well? Out with it. I haven’t got all day; I’ve got killers to catch.”

  “I can’t tell you anything. I don’t know. You must speak with my boss.”

  “And does your boss have a name?”

  “Carl, Carl Holtz.”

  “Sounds more like a German than an Aussie. And where will I find Mr Holtz? I could do with a chat with him.”

  “He’s at the Mandurah Police Station.”

  “What a coincidence. That’s where I’m heading right now.” Jago pulled the car over. “Mary, your ride has ended.”

  She looked at him incredulously and didn’t move.

  “Mary, get out of the car. Your ride has finished here. Look, I know that it’s a layby in the middle of nowhere, but that’s life. Now get out – go on, hurry.”

  She’d barely shut the door when Jago took off at speed. As he looked in his rear-view mirror, he could see that Mary was giving him the finger.

  He called Fi. “I’m not far behind you. I’ll meet you at the main entrance of the Mandurah Police Station.”

  “Okay, Boss, we’re just arriving now.”

  When Jago arrived in the silver car, he parked it beside the station. As he proceeded to the main entrance, he was aware of two men watching him. They were standing beside an unmarked car.

  “Hi, Fi,” Jago said when he reached her at the door. “Have you spoken to anybody yet?”

  “No, I’ve been waiting for you and nobody’s been out to speak to me.”

  “Okay, let’s see what’s happening.”

  Chapter 9

  Jago reported to the main reception. “Hello, I’m Jack Jago and I’m here with my colleague and we’re here to meet with Captain Bennet.”

  “Certainly, sir. May I see some form of photo identification for both of you, please?”

  Jago and Fi passed the officer their passports.

  “I’ll just copy these and make up your visitor passes. I’ll also contact Captain Bennet’s office and let him know you’re here. It’ll take a few minutes so why don’t you take a seat?”

  “Sure, no problem. We’ll sit in the waiting room.”

  After about ten minutes Benny walked into the waiting room and Jago stood to shake his hand.

  “How are you, Jago?”

  “Oh, I’m fine, and you?”

  “Me, I’m just dandy.” Benny looked over at Fi. “Who do we have here then?”

  Fi was on her feet. “Fi, may I introduce you to Captain Bennet of the TRG. He’s our liaison officer.”

  Fi extended a hand. Benny’s hand met hers and he lingered on the handshake as he said, “It’s good to meet you, love. What does Fi stand for?”

  “Well, let’s see. First, I’m not your love, and secondly, Fi stands for Fiona. But everyone I like calls me Fi.”

  “What should I call you?”

  As she walked over to Jago, she replied, “I haven’t decided yet. I’ll let you know.”

  Benny shook his head, not knowing what to make of Fi.

  "Shall we collect your passes and go to my office?”

  “Lead the way,” said Jago.

  They collected their passports and visitor passes and followed Benny through a secure door and into a long, shiny-tiled corridor.

  Upon reaching Benny’s office Benny sat at his desk, opened a manila envelope, and took out two pieces of green paper. He handed one to each of them.

  “These are your firearms permits. I got them processed a little quicker than usual. They permit you to carry one semiautomatic sidearm each.”

  “That’s no good, Benny. We’re dealing with terrorists here and they don’t d
eal in pea-shooters. Fi has brought our usual weaponry and we must be able to use it if we’re going to be effective. Who do I see to get this changed?”

  “I’m afraid that’s what our law allows.”

  “Benny, how are we supposed to be effective under these constraints? Now, to my mind there must be some kind of contingency, a way around your law. How could you make it work for us?”

  “I suppose I can get permission for an exception, or two. But I’ll need a couple of hours.”

  “Fine, we’ll wait. And while we’re waiting … can you tell me where I can find Carl Holtz?”

  “Oh, you are resourceful. And may I ask how you’ve come to know about Mr Holtz? And what would you want with him?”

  “You can ask, but you won’t get an answer until I’ve spoken to him. Where can I find him?”

  “He’s down the end of the corridor, the last door on the left.”

  “Thanks. I’ll pay him a visit while you sort out the permits.”

  Benny left the office with the documents in hand and a sheepish look on his face.

  “Fi, have you got the keys to the black bags, please?”

  “Yes, here they are.” She tossed him the keys. “I’ve got a message from Abi. She says she’s starting to get the intel through. They’ll let us know the minute they have anything useful.”

  Jago unlocked the toughened bag and retrieved an MP5. He expertly stripped it down and began to clean it in a methodical, and somewhat therapeutic, manner. Fi noticed his focused state and didn’t disturb him. Instead, she slipped out of the station and called Abi.

  “Abi, I’m with the boss and he’s not his usual self. I’ve just left him stripping down his MP5, and he’s almost in a trance while he’s doing it.”

  “It must be tough for him,” said Abi. “But if anyone can pull through this, he can. We need to support him as much as we can. Don’t forget, he must have asked for you for a reason. He could have asked for Dom, but he was very specific that he wanted you on the ground.”

  “Yes, I know. I don’t know why yet, though. Anyway, he’s the boss and I’ll be there for him. These bozos here aren’t much help so far. And it didn’t help that ASIS were tailing him.”