Lethal Promise

by Paul Stretton-Stephens

  “The man on the bike is Carlos Vega Fernandez. As you can imagine, Carlos is Spanish, and he’s wanted – not only by the Spanish authorities, I might add – for the usual gangster stuff: profiteering, trafficking of people and drugs, and possibly weapons. We took this picture in the Maldives a month ago. Carlos’s name cropped up in our mine official’s agenda two months ago.”

  “And the second candidate?”

  “That one’s more cautious. He only travels at night and prefers not to be out in the daylight. Here is the last-known photograph of him, at a hotel in Singapore a year ago. We understand that he too took a holiday to the Maldives last month at the same time as Mr Fernandez.”

  Carl displayed the photograph of a tall man with fair hair, dressed in a suit and overcoat.

  “This, we believe, is Boris Fischer, aka Wilhelm Fischer, aka Heinrich Muller, and aka Franz Bruns. He always travels with two companions, one male and one female. We assume that the female is his PA and the man is his bodyguard.”

  “Why is he so difficult to get close to?”

  “He’s extremely cautious. He changes plans at short notice – cancels meetings, switches venues, dates, times, et cetera. He’s difficult to pin down in one place.”

  “What do we know about his operations?”

  “Everything seems to be controlled from afar. And when I say controlled, I mean that. He pays violent, aggressive individuals very well to enforce his will. Eight members of a family were found hanged in their home in India last month. Each had their hands tied behind their back. They forced the grandmother to watch so that she could tell the rest of the community what had happened. The community had been complaining about a water shortage and they were blaming a nearby industrial plant for water overuse and excessive waste – a plant which we think is controlled by one of Fischer’s companies. The people of the village don’t complain anymore and many are moving away, making the land inexpensive, so the plant can expand.”

  “So, apart from being in the Maldives at the same time as Saunders, why is Fischer a potential candidate? Was he in the mine official’s agenda too?”

  “No, but his assistant was.” Carl showed them a photograph of a tall, tanned brunette dressed in a smart black designer dress. Her long hair was swept to one side, hiding one arm of her Prada sunglasses. She wore jewelled bracelets on each wrist and a pendant to match.

  “This is Cruz Grey, Harvard graduate and personal assistant to a man who is wanted in multiple countries for everything from arms smuggling to shipping dope. The question is, what is a nice girl like that doing with a man like him?”

  “Is there anything to suggest that they are in a relationship?” Fi asked.

  “I’m afraid that is too obvious, Fi. No, she was in fact having a relationship with our undercover officer, Amy Keller, until a month ago.”

  Benny said, “That brings a whole new meaning to undercover work.”

  The others in the room just looked at him.

  “What? I only said what others were thinking, didn’t I?”

  Carl shot Benny a look. “Shall we move on?”

  “Yeah, sure, let’s move on.”

  “What happened a month ago?” asked Fi.

  “Grey wanted our girl, Keller, to pass information to her about an upcoming deal involving a mine land grab. And new land for mining.”

  “Okay, what exactly is a mine land grab; how does that work?” asked Fi.

  “As far as I know it goes like this. All mines have a lifespan and some are in their last ten or twenty years, maybe more. Officials could falsify site production, bringing it lower than projected, knowing that below a certain level the company will run at a loss and will want to close the mine earlier than planned.”

  “But what can they do with the land afterwards? From what I can gather most mines are in the middle of nowhere,” said Jago.

  “The land would sell cheaply and be snapped up by developers for resorts. There was talk that one company was willing to fork out millions for one site. They planned a luxury resort: golf course, manmade lake for water sports, a casino and private airstrip – the full monty. The people of the old town nearby had been reliant on the mine for their livelihoods, so they’d have been grateful for the work, and the company that owned the mine would have relinquished any further responsibility for the area.”

  “So, these deals are potentially worth millions?” asked Jago.

  “If not more, if we consider the types of investors they may attract. The likelihood is that most of them will be in the same circle, with a peppering of legitimate investors. Hence the need for a Harvard graduate on the team.”

  “Do we know why Grey and your officer were meeting? Was it business or a relationship thing?” asked Fi.

  “Keller reported it as a business meeting without mentioning any names,” said Carl. “We assumed that it would have been with Saunders. And she’s had plenty of meetings before and there was no warning signal or anything to make us think differently.”

  “Do you think Grey knew Keller was undercover?” asked Fi. “I mean, if we suppose that she did, that would mean Grey had some leverage in blackmailing Keller for the information, wouldn’t she?”

  Jago cut in. “That’s true. But the attack is too strong a response, isn’t it? There’s something else at play here; we’re missing something. Benny, have any of the anti-mine groups or any terrorist group claimed responsibility yet?”

  “That’s a negative.”

  “The ex-miner with a bullet in the back of his head, Liam Harper. Which group did he belong to?” asked Jago.

  “As far as we know, he didn’t belong to any of them. Sure, he knew some members, but he wasn’t actively taking part in meetings or actions with them,” said Carl.

  Jago paused momentarily. “So how was he recruited? Can we get a copy of his file?”

  Carl wrote a reminder note. “Done. You’ll have it by the morning.”

  “What footage has shown up on the phones and cameras seized on the day?”

  “Our guys are still trawling through all of that. I’ll let you know what turns up.”

  “Do we have IDs for the pilot who fell off the roof and our man who shot himself?” asked Fi.

  “We ran their details through several international databases,” Carl said. “The fingerprints of the one who shot himself match those found on a sniper’s rifle in South Africa two years ago. There was no identification at that time. The helicopter pilot was an Australian national and registered with the Australian air authority. He left the military with an exemplary record, but in the last five years he’s been questioned frequently regarding the smuggling of contraband and other as yet unstated items. He leaves behind a wife and three children. Our guys are over in Sydney interviewing the wife now, and I’ll let you know what transpires.”

  Jago sat back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. “Shooting oneself to avoid capture is radical,” he said. “More often than not, it’s the action of a radicalised terrorist, not an environmental activist. And considering what you’ve just told us about the fingerprints on the sniper’s rifle, I’m more inclined to believe there is some kind of terrorist involvement here. It may be in the background, but there is some involvement. The question is: why? Why align yourself with a bunch of amateur environmentalists? It just doesn’t add up, not yet at least. When the prints were found on the sniper’s rifle, do we know who the target was?”

  Carl was busy writing copious notes. He didn’t have the answers to half of the questions and he knew that he had a challenging time ahead of him.

  A buzzing sound filled the room.

  “Excuse me,” said Carl, “one of my colleagues is trying to contact me. I won’t be a moment.”

  Carl stepped out of the room and into the sterile area, where he was met by a shabby-looking man of about thirty years of age. Jago watched as the two men talked. The man handed Carl a sheet of paper and Carl re-entered the room.

  Carl shared the news. �
�We’ve had some kind of development. We’re not sure of the significance yet, but it may show that there’s a third person at large. Immediately after the incident, the security and emergency services took over the local seniors’ and community centre as a temporary morgue. They photographed all casualties on entry, and scanned their fingerprints, and extracted blood samples. During the chaos, a white male purporting to be a paramedic, in full paramedic uniform, arrived to remove one of the bodies. He had the relevant paperwork and everything, including an ambulance outside, and they released the body into his care.”

  Benny spoke up. “Why one particular body? What was so special about this one?”

  “I’ll come to that. But first I want to explain that of all the casualties we had, there were two fatalities without gunshot or explosion-related wounds. After initial examination, the medics thought at the time that they had died because of a heart attack. Which, considering the circumstances, is feasible. However, it turns out that the body requested was that of our mine official, Eugene Saunders.”

  Carl allowed the team to absorb the new information before continuing, “Last night, at two a.m., the local police in the district of Hillarys in North Perth received a call stating that there was activity in the town’s crematorium. An officer who attended the scene to investigate came under fire and he was wounded in the exchange of fire. He is critical but stable, and unable to give us an account. There was an ambulance parked at the rear of the crematorium and someone set this on fire, possibly with an explosion. Preliminary reports suggest that they used a grenade. Locals reported hearing shots and an explosion before a four-by-four was seen leaving the scene. We have no vehicle registration, just a description of the vehicle, which looks to be a black or blue Toyota pickup. It was heading north.”

  “Bloody hell, there must be hundreds of black or blue Toyota pickups,” said Benny.

  “This one has a white wheel cover on the back with a logo on it and a white or light-coloured sticker on the driver’s door. That’s what we’ve got to go on. We’re assuming that it belongs to a local, so the local populace is being canvassed and patrol officers are on the lookout.”

  Jago stood to study a map on the wall. “This is the only lead we have. We have to pursue it unless something else turns up. In what direction were they seen heading?”

  Carl examined the paper in his hand. “Hang on … they were heading out onto the Mitchell Freeway, heading north.”

  “What’s north? Anything outstanding?” asked Fi.

  “You name it, it’s there: bush, large open spaces, small coastal towns, the lot.”

  “What about cameras on the freeway, have we got access?” asked Jago.

  “Yes, but there are only a few, and it’ll take hours to capture and process.”

  “Who’s on it now?” questioned Jago.

  “Nobody has been tasked yet,” replied Carl.

  “Get me last night’s footage and I’ll send it to my team.”

  “Okay, done. Do you need anything else?” asked Carl.

  “Yes. We’ll need a helicopter and two pilots, and a live satellite feed.”

  “Two pilots? Why two?”

  “This will be fluid and I can’t afford to have any sleepy pilots slowing us down.”

  Carl replied, “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Jago looked pointedly at Benny, to remind him of their earlier conversation.

  “Oh, Carl, don’t worry,” Benny said, “the navy have offered their resources. I’ll get one of their helicopters for Jago and Fi.”

  “You mean that you want to go alone?” Carl said to Jago. “But you don’t know the territory.”

  “Then give me someone who does, and quickly; we leave in an hour.” Jago looked at his watch. “That’s one fifteen p.m.”

  Carl racked his brains. “You can take Mikey; he knows the ground well. Oh, but he’s the one you met at the airport.”

  “He’ll have to do. I want him at the main entrance in one hour, kitted up for a long ride, and I will need that live satellite imagery access by the time we get there.”

  “Okay, satellite, I’m on it. I’ll message you when it’s up and running for you,” confirmed Carl.

  Jago didn’t bother to reply and made to leave the room, but then stopped himself.

  “You didn’t say who the target was in South Africa and whether the sniper was successful?”

  Carl looked down at his dossier. “The target was the environmental campaigner Dr Kirsten Dunn. And the sniper was unsuccessful in killing her; she was wounded in the shoulder.”

  “Wasn’t she the woman who was kidnapped in the Middle East years ago?” asked Fi.

  “Yes, that’s her.”

  “Fi,” said Jago, “next time you speak to Abi, get her to find out what she can about Dr Dunn.”

  Chapter 11

  It was 1.10 p.m. and Jago was waiting at the main entrance of the police station for Fi and their new companion, Mikey. Jago was wearing soft-top ankle boots, sand-coloured trousers with side pockets and a multi-pocketed lightweight shirt. He was also wearing a tan thigh holster complete with magazine pouches for both his Sig Sauer P239 pistol and his HK MP5, and an Eickhorn SEK-M1 combat knife. Beside him was a rucksack, attached to which was his body armour.

  The sounds of the helicopter’s rotors gradually increased as it headed towards the station. Fi walked up, similarly kitted out to Jago and carrying her rucksack on her wide shoulders.

  “Boss, are we good to go?”

  “We need to wait on Mikey. Have you seen him?”

  “No, I can’t say I have. Abi just called and confirmed that they received the first set of data from the freeway CCTV. She’s also trying to pull satellite imaging for the area, although it will be sporadic, based on the flight path. It may prove fruitful, though, if we have a general sense of direction.”

  “She knows she can contact us, doesn’t she?”

  “Yes, she knows. She helped charge and pack the Iridium Extreme sat phones.”

  Mikey appeared. “Hi, I’m Mikey to those of you who don’t already know me.”

  Jago looked him up and down before asking, “You got the message we’ll be out on a fluid op, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, my boss gave me the full rundown. Why do you ask?”

  “Where’s your kit? We won’t be home for tea, you know. We’ll be staying out until the job’s done.”

  Mikey was wearing a short-sleeved checked shirt and blue jeans. He had a holstered pistol. He examined the equipment that Jago and Fi were carrying.

  “I see that you’ve come well equipped. I wasn’t made aware that we’ll be out that long. I’ll just grab some gear.”

  The helicopter was nearing.

  “No, you won’t,” said Jago. “We’re leaving now, with or without you. If that’s what you’ve got, that’s what you’ve got. Where’s your body armour? You know someone shot a policeman last night, don’t you, and that we’re after the perpetrator who shot him? Go on, you’ve got five minutes to get some armour or we leave without you.”

  Mikey didn’t move.

  “Well, what are you waiting for? Get going, and get yourself some water too. Come on, Fi, let’s get to the heli.”

  They boarded the helicopter and stowed their rucksacks before putting on headsets.

  A strong Australian accent came over the headset. “Hi, guys, I’m Captain Ian Brown the pilot of this helicopter and my co-pilot here is Captain Steve Chambers. You must be Jago, and I’m sorry, I don’t know your colleague’s name?”

  “Hi, gents, this is Fi, just Fi, and we’re waiting for one other. If he’s not here in two minutes, we’ll get going.”

  “We can wait; it’s no problem for us.”

  “It’s a problem for me. We need to play catch-up and can’t afford to lose any time. I take it you guys have sufficient kit, food and water, et cetera, to keep you going for at least a couple of days?”

  “Yes, we understand that we could be out for a while and we’ve pl
otted refuelling and replenishment stops in the north. If we get redirected, we’ll just re-plot.”

  Mikey arrived at the helicopter carrying a rucksack and wearing the requisite body armour. He jumped into the helicopter, shut the door and placed a headset on his head.

  “Right, I’m here, and I got some gear from a colleague. Where are we heading?”

  Fi spoke first. “We’re heading north on Mitchell Freeway. The first possible sightings we have on camera are on the freeway before a town called Cervantes. And the local police there have a sighting at a petrol station in the town.”

  She leaned forward and passed the coordinates to the pilots, and within minutes they were up in the air.

  Mikey made a phone call which lasted two minutes. When he hung up, he said, “Jago, the local police will meet us at the landing zone and keep the area closed off. They know the petrol station manager well and will accompany us.”

  “Fine with me,” said Jago, “as long as they don’t get in the way. All we need from them is some local intel.”

  “I understand … well, at least I think I do. I mean, we’re all on the same side, aren’t we?”

  “Look, Mikey, these people we’re after are serious players. They don’t think twice about killing anyone in their way. Now, the local police do a great job in their area on the low-level stuff, and in all fairness a lot of them only receive training that supports that parochial need. But when we get into the territory we’re into, they’re out of their league and can best serve us with on-the-ground information. I don’t want to sound derogatory, but nor do I want any local law enforcement getting hurt and leaving behind wives, husbands and kids. I’m here to protect them and seek our target. Do you understand where I’m coming from?”

  Mikey looked Jago in the eye. “Yes, I understand. We all have our roles to play.”

  “Yes, we do. Can I ask you a personal question, Mikey?”

  “Yeah, sure, go ahead.”

  “Have you ever killed anyone? I mean, it’s unusual for an intel officer to get involved in the action, but sometimes the need arises.”