He waited for Rik to come round again. So far he’d showed no signs of recognition, his eyes mostly hidden in the shadow of his hoodie. Harry was hoping he’d signal something, anything, to show it might be possible to talk. The way they’d played it, Rik had been steered into the park and his guards had stayed with him long enough to make sure there was no threat before leaving him to a solo break. But that didn’t mean they wouldn’t come back at any time. It didn’t leave him enough time to manoeuvre a meeting. Prisoner or protectee, Rik was off-limits.
He watched as Rik approached. There was a powerful temptation to speak, but he resisted it. Rik would know if it was safe or not, and he’d have to rely on him to make the first move. Then Harry tensed. As Rik drew close he dropped his hand to his side, the fingers flicked out and held the position. Then he was gone and rubbing at his shoulder as if to ease a touch of cramp.
Harry held his breath. Was that a signal? Five what? Minutes? Hours? Five p.m.?
Moments later the two guards were back at the entrance and waving at Rik that his time was up. The woman stared at Harry, who by now had taken a lounging position of a man sleeping off too much drink, one arm hanging down, his hand trailing unaware in a puddle. Moments later the trio were gone.
Harry gave it ten minutes before making a move. Pushing to his feet he walked with exaggerated sluggishness across the centre of the park in a seemingly haphazard fashion. He stopped and picked up a couple of cigarette butts, tucking them inside his coat, all the time keeping the entrance in sight and the road beyond. Nothing much to do and nowhere important to be, his actions said, and all day to do it.
Rik clearly wasn’t able or willing to talk to him freely, so he’d have to initiate the first move. He hadn’t yet figured out how to do that, but it would come to him. It might simply take longer than he’d thought. He’d spent years making covert approaches to sometimes reluctant contacts; all it needed was a cool nerve and a seemingly innocent reason for being in the right place at just the right time, with just the right amount of cover.
The only question was, would Rik be reluctant to stop and talk or would he shout for back-up from his two guards?
Harry stopped just inside the park entrance. Rik and his two companions were about to turn into their base. He waited until they disappeared inside before heading back towards the main gates. The first order of business was to find somewhere to sleep until it was time to make the next move.
Four o’clock came round painfully slow, bringing a further drop in temperature and a brief flurry of sleet. He’d found a small loft space in one of the structures from where he could see the road and the building where Rik was being held. It had been sheltered enough to keep him out of the worst of the weather but sleep had not come easily. In between the bouts of uneasy shut-eye he’d made a brief sortie to check his surroundings and had spotted the two armed guards. They’d appeared from the shadows and eyed the area carefully before slipping back between the buildings.
As soon as they’d gone he circled the buildings to check for points of access, weaving his way cautiously through piles of rusted metal on the back lots behind the structures and staying away from the long grass which would leave tracks.
It proved fruitless except for one thing: he was moving past the rear of the building next to the one where Rik was being held when his foot kicked against something solid, hidden by what appeared to be random pieces of wood and metal sheeting. It was a thick cable which snaked away from the building towards a fenced-off area near the trees. He followed it out of curiosity.
It was an electrical sub-station. The area inside the wire mesh contained a number of grey metal boxes with rusted warning signs still visible, and the ground which had been gravelled over was now a profusion of weeds and wind-blown rubbish. But the cable he’d followed looked new and had been fed through the wire fence and connected up to the boxes.
He looked back along its length and wondered why a power supply had been hooked up to an abandoned building in this out-of-the-way spot.
These two buildings were the more robust on the site, with no obvious weak points, and the one with the direct power supply was the most interesting. The fabric of the structure was concrete up to waist level, then metal cladding. The few windows were all dark and had been painted over on the inside. He edged up close and listened. There was nothing at first. Then he detected a low buzz of several voices fading rapidly followed by a door closing. He moved around the outside, using the overgrown weeds for cover, aware that this was dangerously double-edged. If he could see in, the people inside would see him moving against the light.
When he picked up the tang of strong tobacco drifting in the air and heard voices coming from outside the building, he slid back into cover and made his way by a circuitous route back to the loft across the road.
Returning to the park after another bout of sleep, he saw an old man picking up scraps of paper and studying them closely before throwing them away, as if hoping to find a winning lotto ticket.
Harry made for a bench which was best concealed from the road and sat down. He took a bottle of cheap brandy from inside his coat and took a sip. It burned like fire on the way down, but he hadn’t dared bring anything better in case the guards searched him. Drunks didn’t buy good booze.
Forty-five minutes drifted by before he heard footsteps and voices approaching along the road. He adopted a half-prone position on the bench, clutching the brandy bottle to his chest, and waited for Rik and the guards to enter the park. But when he heard only a single set of footsteps and looked up, he was surprised to see the guards had stopped at the entrance and were watching Rik running solo. After a couple of minutes they turned and disappeared without giving Harry a second look.
Sloppy, he thought. But handy.
THIRTY-TWO
‘What are you doing here, Harry?’ The words came out in a hiss as Rik shuffled past the bench on his second lap. He was gone before Harry could respond. His hoodie had slipped back a little, revealing his spiky hair looking wilder than usual. He looked pale and drawn, and Harry noted the nervousness in his voice. He was clearly wary of being seen talking to anyone.
The next time round he stopped a few feet away to adjust his laces. ‘You trying to get yourself killed?’ he whispered, and glanced back at the entrance. ‘You need to get out of here.’
‘And hello to you, too,’ Harry said. ‘I was betting you hadn’t spotted me.’
‘You’d have lost. I clocked you yesterday. I was just too out of it to realize.’
‘But not the day before? You’re slipping.’
‘Right. Great time to be clever. What do you want? You know the guards are armed, right? Two patrolling the outside and the two inside – a man and a woman.’
‘I saw them. Ugly looking bunch. As to why I’m here, there’s an all-agencies order out on you. Apparently you’re hotter than a Kardashian, whatever that is.’
‘It’s bullshit; I haven’t done anything.’ Rik didn’t sound surprised.
‘You knew?’
‘Kraush told me. He’s the main man here. Russian. I don’t know his first name.’ His voice was tight and resentful, still with a faint Midlands regional accent, but a long way from when Harry had first met him in Red Station. Back then, even faced with isolation and a no-return-no-contact order on them all, Rik had been casual and chipper, a light-hearted presence in an otherwise dark and unwelcoming environment.
Rik stood up and flexed his legs, then set off for another circuit. When he stopped next time round he sat on the bench and reached for Harry’s bottle. ‘Give us a taste.’
‘I’m not sure you’re old enough for this,’ Harry warned him. ‘I think it’s what passes for class grog in this neck of the woods.’
‘I need a bit of pain to stop me getting complacent.’ He touched the bottle to his lips to test it, but returned it without drinking. ‘Bloody Ada, that’s bad.’
‘Yeah, sorry. I should have called in at Duty Free for some Remy.’
He capped the bottle and said, ‘Why is everyone after your head all of a sudden?’ In spite of Cramer’s claims he wanted to hear Rik’s version of events. If it produced nothing save for injured innocence, he’d let him have both barrels in the hope that it would shock him into some kind of reality.
Rik ignored the question. ‘Is that why you’re here – to take me back?’
‘Should I be?’
‘Well, it’s a fair bet. You know me better than anyone and you’re a freelancer; always up for a job. It’s right up your street.’ He looked away. ‘Sorry. That was uncalled for. I’m bloody glad to see you, Harry. Who’ve you got out there as back-up? Anyone I know?’
‘There is no back-up. It’s just me for now. I was asked to find you but I’m not going to turn you in without listening to what you’ve got to say. And,’ he added, ‘you sent me the message with the address of the place in Stepyanka.’
Rik frowned and rubbed his face. ‘I did that? I thought I’d dreamed it. They took my phone away immediately afterwards, and my head’s been a bit scrambled ever since. I reckon they drugged me.’ He rolled up his sleeve and revealed a dark bruise in the crease of his elbow.
Harry looked closely at it. It looked like a clumsy injection bruise. ‘Who did it – the local horse doctor?’
‘No idea. I was face down in the back of a car at the time. It was probably the woman – Irina. I think she likes hurting people.’ He looked tired. ‘It’s been a while, hasn’t it, since we talked.’
‘So it has,’ Harry agreed. ‘I kept meaning to write, send a postcard or a text, but you know how it is. I’m here now, though. Who are these people?’
‘GRU. One was FSB, but he’s dead.’
‘How?’
‘I think Irina shot him. I don’t know why. Maybe she needed the kick.’ He paused and looked around. When he turned back his face was animated, as if thoughts of the dead man had given him a wake-up call. ‘You have to get word out, Harry. These people are planning a cyber hit on the UK. They’ve got a team in the next building all set up to go. You’ve got to warn someone.’
That explained the power supply from the sub-station. ‘How serious a hit?’
‘Top-level bad.’ He relayed the details of what Kraush had told him, adding, ‘Even level one would cause problems. If they find that works, who knows what they’ll do next? It wouldn’t take long for some nut-job in the Kremlin to suggest going to level two, then …’
‘I get the picture. Do you believe this Kraush?’
‘Yes! I told him he was crazy but it didn’t seem to register. He’s just a thug with a job to do.’
Harry thought it over. ‘Dumb question, but could they do it? I mean, is it technically possible?’
‘God yes. It’s a bloody miracle nobody’s gone down this route already. There have been a few minor attacks, like they’re testing the water, but nothing as focussed as what Kraush’s suggesting.’
‘All right. I’ll pass it on. For now-’
‘Are you being paid for this job?’
The question came out of left field, and Harry let it pass. Rik was angry and resentful, undoubtedly frightened and ready to lash out at anyone, himself most of all. What he couldn’t figure out was why. Was it guilt?
‘You know how it works,’ he said. ‘If I hadn’t agreed to do it, they’d have called in someone else; someone with no personal interest and paid to follow orders. They won’t worry too much about protocol, either. To them you’re a legitimate target who’s gone off-piste.’
‘But I haven’t. I’ve kept my nose clean since leaving Five – you know that.’
A noise sounded from nearby and Rik jump to his feet and began another circuit of the park. It wasn’t the guards but two dogs scrapping over the torn remains of a carcass which might have once been a fox.
‘I know you’re clean,’ Harry assured him when Rik stopped next time. ‘But someone in London must have different ideas. Something’s happened to rattle their cage and they think you’ve jumped ship.’
‘I haven’t!’
‘Maybe not. But you bunking off over here doesn’t help.’
Rik rolled his shoulders. ‘Man, what a nightmare. Do they know where I am?’
‘Not yet. But give it time and they will.’
‘This is crazy! London thinks I’ve bunked off with state secrets or whatever, and Kraush wants me to spill something I don’t have.’ He rubbed his face. ‘Jesus, my head’s in a mess. Kraush hit me with a taser. I reckon it must have fried something.’
‘Try not to worry,’ Harry told him. ‘The effects are temporary. Did he give a hint about what he’s after?’
‘He said it was something I saw when I was nosing through the archives.’
Harry wondered how Kraush would know that. The same with the search-and-detain order. It wasn’t the kind of thing stuck on lamp-posts around London, and led to the uneasy suggestion that he must have inside information. He decided to leave it; it was a whole new can of worms and right now wasn’t the time to go into it.
He glanced towards the road. He could just about make out if anyone approached the area. ‘Where are the guards?’
‘The two heavies are always on the perimeter, keeping the local drifters out of the way.’
‘Yes, I saw them. Not the kind to be running a food bank.’
‘The other two are busy setting up the cyber project in the next building. They said they’d let me come out and run solo if I behaved myself.’ Rik gave a harsh laugh. ‘What a joke.’
‘How long?’ Harry asked.
‘What?’
‘How long before they reel you back in?’
‘I don’t know … ten minutes, maybe longer. It depends on what else they’re doing.’
It wasn’t long to talk someone round in this kind of state. What Harry needed was time to get into Rik’s head and put him in a positive state of mind. But he wasn’t underestimating what being snatched, kept locked up and effectively tortured could do to a person’s thinking.
‘I want to get you out of this,’ he said, ‘but you’re going to have to help me. If we make a break for it, can you keep going until we’re good and clear?’
But Rik appeared to have gone in on himself, his head down and shoulders slumped. He took so long to reply that Harry began to worry. If Rik was traumatized by his treatment, possibly with the addition of drugs administered by his captors, he might not be in any fit state to cut and run if the opportunity presented itself.
‘Rik.’
‘Cicada,’ Rik said at last.
‘What?’
‘Kraush asked if I’d heard of Cicada. I haven’t … at least, I don’t think so.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It sounded familiar, that’s all. He said it was a code or a name. When he said it I got a bit of flash, like something hovering in the background.’
‘And?’
Another shrug. ‘There was so much stuff in the archives … it was overwhelming. He gave me a notepad to write down anything I can remember, to start a train of thought.’
‘And?’
‘Christ, you name it, I saw it. Mission reports, updates, risk analysis checks, contacts and team names, headings, map coordin-ates, codes … I was skimming while listening for the supervisor. There were audio and video files, too: phone calls and comms, asset meetings, field briefings, debrief and psych assessments and post-mission summaries.’
Harry knew what it was like. Outsiders tended to forget that the security and intelligence services were, at heart, bureaucrats with a default position of writing things down. Dismissed by some as the dark art of arse-covering, it was the meat of covert assignments and missions. To those on the top floors and the drones lower down, it signalled success or failure.
‘If Cicada was there,’ Rik continued, ‘I probably saw it but it didn’t sink in.’ He turned his head to scan their surroundings. It was then that Harry saw a nasty cut to his face. It looked livid and bruised around the edges, scab
bing over to near-black in colour.
‘Who did that?’ Harry asked.
‘Irina. The resident psycho. My face got in the way of her fist.’
Harry felt for him. This wasn’t the Rik he’d known before, but someone in a darker place, more morose and inward-looking.
‘This stuff never goes away, does it?’ Rik continued. ‘It’s there forever.’
‘It doesn’t have to be. We can sort it out.’ Harry hesitated. ‘You definitely haven’t poked your nose anywhere you shouldn’t, have you?’
‘No!’ Rik’s reply carried the fierce heat of conviction. ‘Why doesn’t anyone believe that?’ With that he jumped up and began running again.
THIRTY-THREE
Harry felt a surge of impatience. He could understand Rik’s attitude, but going off half-cocked wasn’t helping. Somehow, he had to break whatever was keeping Rik here, even if it was his state of mind.
When Rik came back to land he was breathing heavily, his face pinched by the cold but flushed. Harry said, ‘We need to leave right now.’
‘Good luck with that. You think I like this shit-hole, with eyeballs on me all the time?’ He looked around, his eyes flickering unhealthily. ‘I think they killed a hacker friend of mine.’ The words came out in a disorderly stream, a verbal dam unblocked. ‘She’s why I came over here, not the other stuff.’
‘Girlfriend?’
‘Not really. I mean, I’ve never met her but we’ve been in touch for a couple of years. We shared some work on a couple of small projects and seemed to click.’
‘Go on.’ Harry stood up so he could keep a better eye on the road. His nerves were beginning to shred at the possibility of being interrupted.
‘She contacted me a while back, said she’d heard about my mother. She was sweet. She understood because she’d lost her mother not long ago, too. She wanted to meet.’
‘Where?’
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