Lethal Promise

by Paul Stretton-Stephens

  “It is something we could consider for the right clients with the requisite qualifications. I believe we could get insurance cover for this under our existing policy. Or if there was a problem, we could make you a temporary employee. But for someone like yourself, Mr Jago, it wouldn’t be a problem. You can fly, can’t you?”

  “Yes, Pradip, I can fly. Here’s my pilot’s licence.”

  Jago showed him his pilot’s licence, which Pradip viewed with interest.

  “Are we done here?” asked Jago.

  “Yes, Mr Jago, we are all done. Have a very pleasant journey.”

  “Thank you. We may see you again.”

  Jago and Fi left the office, collected their bags and headed for the Cessna Citation X+ aircraft. They ascended the few steps up to the luxurious aircraft, and once inside they stowed their bags securely above some sleek beige-leather seats. Mack was up front in the cockpit and had started the engines. Jago approached him.

  “Hi, Mack. Pradip asked me to tell you that he needs to speak to you about something before we take off.”

  “But I’ve just started up.”

  “Okay, but he seemed pretty insistent – something about taxing your extra payment for the trip. Don’t worry, we’ll get strapped in and relax while you go see him.”

  Mack unbuckled and stormed out of the plane. Jago watched until he was out of sight, and then lifted the steps and secured the door.

  “What are you doing, Boss?” asked Fi curiously.

  “Mack’s been drinking and I’m not risking him flying us. I’ll fly myself. Can you get Pradip on the phone, please, and I’ll explain when we’re underway.”

  Chapter 29

  Islamabad Serena Hotel

  He watched her naked, slender frame as she crawled along the huge bed towards the edge. She didn’t realise that he was still awake, and she made her way quietly to the bathroom.

  He checked the time on the state-of-the-art digital clock radio mounted on the mahogany bedside table. It was 2.30 a.m. They’d had a meeting the previous evening with mutual clients and it had gone well. A planning dinner had followed with four of their closest associates, and they hadn’t reached their hotel room until midnight. Their agenda had been full, yet purposeful, and they’d willingly sacrificed their time. Most of all, though, they cherished the time they spent alone together, when they would make love for hours on end in between exquisitely designed satin bed sheets in an executive suite. Total privacy was assured by Flur Marne’s security team conducting a countermeasure sweep of the room twice daily at infrequent times.

  She’d been having an affair with Bryn Khan-Wright for three years. She imagined that her husband suspected she had a lover. He certainly had the financial means to pay the best to find out for him, yet she doubted that he would bother. Their marriage was founded on a love that was more spiritual than physical, and he was happy with his other loves – honey and wine. And yet he relied upon her business activities to support his passions.

  Flur returned to the room and quietly began dressing.

  “Do you remember when we first met, when our eyes first met?” asked Bryn.

  “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

  “No, you didn’t wake me, and you haven’t answered my question.”

  Putting on her silky underwear and hooking her bra, she said, “I remember the time we first met. I couldn’t believe, and I still can’t, how wonderful it is to look into your eyes. I fell in love with you the moment I saw you.”

  “But you didn’t even know me – you didn’t know what I do for a living, you didn’t know what I stand for. How could you have loved me from the start?”

  “What you do is unimportant. It’s you, the person, the man, I have fallen in love with, not what you do. It so happens that some of your aims and visions complement mine, not always and not in every way, but some of them do, and that’s a bonus for both of us.”

  “Then why not stop this cloak-and-dagger facade and be with me always?”

  She continued dressing, slipping on a beautifully patterned lightweight trouser suit. “Look, Bryn, we’ve been through this a thousand times. I’m married, and we both knew that when we entered into this relationship. I didn’t want to be with you to escape my marriage, I’m here because I fell in love with you. But I also love him and everything he stands for. I hope that you may understand that one day.”

  He looked her in the eye; he wanted her. “Don’t go just yet.”

  “I have to go. I have to be there for the meeting; it’s all arranged. People will already be there, or en route, and I can’t let them down. Besides, it’s in my interests to be there too.”

  She fixed her hair and put on her jewellery. First, she put on an elegant gold necklace which had a centrepiece of onyx and turquoise inserts, and two round brilliant-cut diamonds, and then she inserted matching earrings. She placed a diamond-encrusted, serpent-style gold bracelet on her left wrist, and then added a colourful MVSA watch to her right.

  “My driver will be here soon. Do you want a drink before I go? I can call room service.”

  “That sounds good. Why don’t we have tea together.”

  Flur called room service to make the order. She then spread herself in the corner of the huge sofa in the centre of the lounge. Bryn left the bed, put on a pair of shorts and joined her.

  “How close do you think the Australian authorities will get?” asked Flur anxiously.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll get your land, rights and all. And you’ll get it at a good price. Our little show of power will get them rattled, forcing them to make decisions right up at the highest levels. While they’re doing that, they’ll be distracted from other matters. Our movement has far more credibility now. We have people on the inside who are keeping us updated. We know that the gang leader has said too much, and the wheels are in motion to silence him. So, don’t worry.”

  “But nobody claimed responsibility, so how can your movement have any credibility?”

  “We need not declare ourselves to the enemy, but we can shout about our successful attack from the rooftops to our allies, financiers and select competitors, and maybe collaborators. Let the enemy figure out who we are, and let’s not aid them in their quest. They know we exist; they just don’t know who we are and what our full capabilities are. This action was merely a demonstration to attract support for our cause, and it’s already bearing fruit. I mean, look at our meeting last night. We would never have brokered that meeting had it not been for our success. Now we have the possibility of greater things.”

  As he spoke about his cause and his vision, Bryn’s tone had changed, conveying his excitement.

  “I love it when you talk like that,” said Flur. “You’re so passionate about your work, and you let nothing interfere with your vision, even me. When you’re planning, training and overseeing an operation, I am not in your mind, and I understand that. We understand each other’s needs, I have my business needs, and whilst I can’t pretend to understand your cause, we can put that to one side to maintain our love.”

  There was a knock at the door. “Room service.”

  Flur went to open the door, and a member of the hotel staff wheeled in a trolley with tea and pastries.

  “Shall I pour, madam, or would you prefer to do it yourself?”

  “I think we can manage, thank you,” she replied as she reached into her purse and handed him a tip.

  “Thank you, madam. While I’m here, may I check the temperature and pressure in your bathroom, please? It will only take a moment. We’ve had a couple of guests complain that the hot water pressure is not high enough and therefore the temperature has dropped.”

  “Err, yes, fine. Thank you.”

  As the member of staff made his way to the bathroom, Bryn eyed him with suspicion. Flur poured the tea and Bryn kept his eyes on the bathroom door. They heard the water being turned on and off, then the flush of the toilet. The man exited the bathroom.

  “I’ve checked your facilities and t
hey seem in order. May I get you to sign this?” he asked as he bent down to the trolley.

  As he moved into an upright position, Flur kept a watchful eye on him and plunged her hand into her handbag for her pistol. Meanwhile, Bryn had reached one hand down the back of the sofa, searching for a pistol hidden there. Just as he reached it, the waiter produced a clipboard, beneath which, fastened with Velcro, was a holstered pistol. He drew the pistol and pointed it at Bryn. He fired two shots. Simultaneously, Flur produced her pistol and fired it at the man.

  Bryn had dived onto the floor with the pistol in his hand. He looked up, over the top of the sofa, waiting for the man to come into view before firing. The man moved forward, towards the back of the sofa, to avoid Flur’s shots, and also to get a better feel for where Bryn was. Upon reaching the back of the sofa, he locked eyes with Bryn, and he moved his weapon to fire.

  Bryn squeezed off two rounds in quick succession, hitting the man in the right shoulder. He spun around in pain, and took a round in the back from Flur. He lurched forward and stumbled, but quickly regained his footing, turning to fire at Flur. She stood poised, ready to fire again, with her pistol still trained on him. As the man raised his pistol, Bryn came into view and fired two more shots straight into his chest. The man reeled backwards as blood splattered furniture and walls.

  A bodyguard burst into the room just as the body was hitting the floor. He was too late to be of any use.

  “Flur, are you okay?” Bryn asked urgently as he walked to her side.

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine.” She turned to the bodyguard. “How did he get past you?”

  “He had nothing except your food and drinks when he passed us. We checked him thoroughly. Did he go anywhere else in the suite while he was here?”

  “Yes, he said that he had to check the water pressure in the bathroom.”

  The bodyguard rushed immediately to the bathroom, where upon entering he noticed that the lid to the toilet cistern had been disturbed. He lifted it, revealing a waterproof bag. He fished it out and returned to the main room.

  “Here, he had a pistol stored in the toilet cistern and used the pretence of checking the water to retrieve it. I’ll search him to see if we can find out where he came from.”

  As the bodyguard bent down to the body, he received a call on his mobile. He took the call while searching the man’s body, and then took photographs of the man’s weapon, face and body.

  “Do you plan to use the images to discover who the hitman was?” asked Flur.

  “Yes, Mrs Marne, it will help. Perhaps we’ll get lucky. That call was to say your driver has arrived. The driver will wait for you at the main entrance.”

  “Thank you.” She looked at Bryn. “But what about you? He came here to kill you. Why don’t you come with me?”

  “I’ll be okay. Besides, I’ve got plenty here to occupy me while you’re away.”

  “But what if they send somebody else? I can’t have you facing dangers like this when we’re miles apart.”

  “But I can’t just up and leave. I have commitments, plans and things; I can’t leave everything unattended. I’ll make sure that the guards are closer and more vigilant. You’d better go, if you’ve a plane to catch.”

  “I feel bad enough leaving without this having happened.” She wrapped her arms around him with her pistol in her hand.

  “Hey, watch what you’re doing with that thing,” said Bryn jokingly.

  “It’s okay, the safety is on. I want to hold you one more time before I go.”

  While they embraced in silence, absorbed in the warmth of each other’s body, the bodyguard finished his search and discreetly left the room.

  Flur broke the embrace and looked Bryn in the eye. “I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

  “And I promise that I’ll take care while you’re away. I want to be in one piece for when you return.”

  She gathered her cases by the door and glanced back at the body on the floor. “But what about—”

  Bryn cut her short: “Don’t worry about that; we’ll sort it out.”

  She sighed, opened the door and left.

  Chapter 30

  “Hi, Dom. Abi here. Go secure.”

  “I’m secure. How are you, Abi?”

  “I’m good. I’ve just finished training down on the track and I’m feeling great. I’m reaching my personal best consistently now and raring to go for another competition. How’s it going at the mansion?”

  “Abi, this has got to be the most boring assignment ever. What do we expect this little old lady to be doing in this huge mansion she lives in all by herself? All I see are a few staff members coming and going, and some carers for the old dear.”

  “Well, I hope you’re sitting comfortably, Dom, because the boss wants you to stay there. I think it’s one of those ‘just in case’ scenarios.”

  “I expect the boss and Fi are living it up in some swanky hotel in a tropical climate.”

  “Are we a little jealous, Dom?”

  “No, not really. I love the Cotswolds, just not when it’s windy and rainy. You can’t beat it; it makes you feel alive.”

  “Oh, a little sarcasm. It must be boring up there.” Abi laughed, “It might not be so boring from now on. Word on the street is that the basement in that beautiful mansion is being used for all sorts of illicit goings-on.”

  “Well, if it is, there’s no way I can see any of the activity from here, and there aren’t enough people coming and going from the place. What are they doing, living in the basement?”

  “A reliable source has provided intel that indicates a high-powered meeting will take place at the mansion within the next forty-eight hours. The boss expects you to observe and record – nothing else, no heroics. Did you get that, Dom?”

  “Yes, I got it: observe and record and nothing else,” answered Dom dejectedly.

  “You want me to send somebody else up to be with you?”

  “No, I’m all good, really. How’re Bernie and his wife?”

  “Bernie’s good and his wife is on the mend. I’ll tell him you asked after them; he’ll appreciate that. I’ll get off now, Dom; I’ve a ton of work to do. Don’t forget to send anything you get straight through to us.”

  “Will do. Speak soon.”

  ***

  “Bernie, do you think that intel can be trusted?” asked Abi.

  “What, the intel about the old dear’s mansion? Absolutely. It came from an ex member of the service who’s now in the private sector. He got wind of it a while back and never knew if anyone would take him seriously. Anyway, activity has been more buoyant of late, and it came to his attention once again. Yes, the intel is solid. If he says it will happen, it will happen.”

  ***

  Dom was up early; it was barely light. And the cottage in which he was staying was freezing cold. He knew he didn’t have time to make a fire. Instead, he put the kettle and the oven on, lit up all the rings on the hob and closed the kitchen door to maintain the warmth. He turned on the radio while he made toast. Through the kitchen window, Dom could just make out the roof of the mansion nestled on a hillside of the valley beyond.

  By day, Dom went out walking with his ornithology books and a spotter scope mounted on a tripod on his shoulder. He ventured into the local pub in the evening and talked incessantly about birds to some locals who were also keen on the subject. By night, he donned his night-vision goggles, NVGs, and circumnavigated the mansion. He varied his hours of patrol to maintain his own personal security. He wanted to avoid presenting any pattern of activity for anyone watching him from a distance. He also hoped to glimpse any activity in the mansion’s vicinity in the early hours.

  Dom sent a message to Abi to let her know he was on the move. He finished his coffee and toast and made up a small flask with the excess coffee, before walking out into the drizzle with his bird watcher’s gear. He walked along the muddy path that ran alongside the mansion’s estate. It had been raining all night and every step made an audible squelchi
ng sound.

  Dom walked a couple of hundred metres, pausing every now and again to look through his small, handheld binoculars. He made out as if he were looking for birds, but occasionally took in the view of the mansion and its grounds. He continued on the path, with the sprawling estate on one side and dense woodland on the other. There were few sounds apart from the rain hitting the leaves, the odd bird call and occasionally a vehicle in the distance.

  For three hours, Dom walked back and forth, stopping occasionally to use his spotter scope. He saw little movement on the estate. There was the daily visit from a local home-care company and a post van. It appeared that Agnes Marne got post most days.

  He settled for a while in a relatively dry, covered spot where he had a good view of the mansion’s main entrance and one at the side. He poured himself some coffee and chewed on a flapjack. There was birdsong and, in the background, the familiar, gentle whirring sound of a helicopter in the area. He paused, listening, as it drew closer, and then it flew almost directly over his head and swooped down to land on the green in front of the main entrance to the mansion.

  Dom set up the scope to take pictures of the helicopter and anyone who alighted. As the blades slowed, three figures emerged: two men and a woman. One man was tall with fair hair and smartly dressed in a grey suit and three-quarter-length overcoat. Dom thought he might be Boris Fischer. The other man had a stocky build and short, dark hair. He walked close to the fair-haired man and was possibly the bodyguard. And the slightly built female with auburn hair in a ponytail, who struggled to get out of the helicopter with the two bags she carried, was probably the personal assistant.

  Dom quickly sent the images through to Abi back at the Ranch for facial recognition. He kept watching the helicopter, and when the rotors stopped, he saw the pilot alight and walk around the grounds, keeping a distance from the helicopter while he smoked. The three-storey mansion, made of local light-coloured stone and covered with ivy, displayed few security features. A dome camera covered the main entrance, while eight bullet cameras, presumably with night vision, covered the sides and rear of the property.