Terminal Black

by Adrian Magson

  Cramer nodded. Now they were getting somewhere. It felt like a gate being unlocked.

  ‘A man like Colmyer has influence over a lot of people just down the street from here,’ Hough continued, ‘and along the river. He exercises it and enjoys doing so.’

  Cramer nodded. ‘So what’s his end game?’

  ‘Influence. But not in this neck of the woods.’ Hough looked bleak at Cramer’s puzzled look. ‘What if someone else has got power over him – the kind that threatens everything he holds dear? It didn’t matter when he was a low-grade politico. But now he’s high on the totem pole and doesn’t want anyone rocking the glory boat. He’d want to make sure they couldn’t use it against him.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Think degrees. Fifty-five-point-seven north by thirty-seven-point six east. Give or take. That’s—’

  ‘I know where that is.’ The map coordinates for Moscow.

  They walked on, nearing the south side of the square.

  ‘With what Bull showed him, Junior must know there’s a strong possibility that Ferris saw and remembered what was in one file. Knowing that, he pulled every file reference to himself to check.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘I’ve seen the files and the audit trails. It’s all there … along with some crucial evidence.’

  Cramer was impressed. ‘He really got under your skin, didn’t he?’

  ‘And some. It had to be something he was desperate to keep quiet about. Something about his past … or his father’s. When you’re as ambitious as he is, dirt’s dirt and can’t be ignored. It leaves a mark.’

  Cramer looked up at the sky and shivered. ‘Why didn’t he delete it?’

  ‘That requires input clearance and would have rung alarm bells. As long as it’s locked away in the vaults there’s a very good chance nobody else will ever set eyes on it.’

  Cramer raised an eyebrow. ‘More old stuff?’

  ‘Oldish.’

  ‘Couldn’t he weather that? He’s unlikely to be held to account for what Daddy did.’

  ‘Not quite. He’s already having to answer questions about some of his father’s investments that are still active. My guess is someone – Bellingham, perhaps – saw information on a file which wasn’t meant to be seen but he couldn’t wipe it out. Bull would have been in the same position. Unfortunately for them all, cross-referencing files is what civil servants do best. It’s in their DNA, like a spider’s web stretching across the database and connecting all manner of nasty little secrets.’

  ‘So where’s the biggest threat to Junior?’

  ‘The boys in Moscow. You know how they work: get someone on the ladder and bide their time. Wait for them to reach a height where they’ll be most effective … then down comes the hammer.’

  ‘That means it’s current information. Including contacts?’

  ‘Yes. He’s probably known certain names all along … people his father was close to.’

  ‘But can they use it?’

  ‘Sure. He’s been Junior in more ways than one so far. Now he’s right where they want him, and he must know they can drop a sucker punch on him any time they choose. If they got the evidence he’d be under their thumb for ever. Play ball or we ruin your career.’

  ‘But they’d lose everything he could tell them.’

  ‘It’s a numbers game; they’ll have someone else along sooner or later.’

  ‘But why wait for Ferris to get taken to where the GRU can pick his brains?’

  Hough shrugged. ‘He didn’t. I think the timing was against him. He saw what was in the files about him, and when he looked for Ferris he found he’d gone awol. Two and two make five; he panicked and here we are.’

  ‘So who told Moscow about Ferris?’

  ‘I think Colmyer did … or he told someone he trusted who had access to Moscow. He’s arrogant enough to think he can play them. He was probably hoping they would deal with Ferris and close the door on that nasty little secret … which shows how little he understands what he’s got into.’

  ‘So why couldn’t you have said any of this before? You’re closer to these people; you know how they think.’

  ‘Right. Of course. And you’re just a simple foot-soldier who knows nuffink.’ Hough gave a hint of a smile. ‘I’ve been out in the field until recently. It’s not the best way of keeping up with internal gossip.’

  They walked on a little more, and were about to part company when Hough stopped and said, ‘I’ve given him a briefing about current activities and access to the archives for background at his request.’

  Cramer looked startled. The words sounded oddly out of character. ‘What the hell was that?’

  Hough looked glum. ‘It’s something Bull said to me one day after he dumped this Ferris thing on me. I’ve only just realized what it meant. Bull would have known all about Ferris, Tate and the Red Station fiasco; it was one of those events that many in the community heard about but few would have known the full details.’ He pulled a face. ‘We never have been good at airing our laundry beyond a very tight circle.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Bull probably told Colmyer about it over sherry one day. It’s what some of the big pooh-bahs like to do: sharing some of the intelligence world’s lesser-known dramas to show how much in the know they are.’

  Cramer was frowning. ‘But didn’t Ferris cough all this during his debriefing?’

  Hough gave him a weary look. ‘A question I asked myself. When I checked the audit trails into the files he’d looked at, there was a summary and a codename but I don’t suppose Ferris gave it more than a glance because it wasn’t what he was looking for. But I recognized the codename.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘It was in a field report submitted by a retiring agent handler in Berlin the year before Ferris was canned. It was submitted as part of a batch meant for further action by his replacement, and for reasons I can only guess at, was filed and forgotten.’

  ‘Deliberately?’

  ‘No idea. Mistakes happen, so who knows? The important thing is, it names an individual who attended at least three undisclosed meetings with Russians known to have very close links with the Kremlin.’

  ‘Close as in …?’

  ‘Decision influencers. Prominent individuals close to Putin. There are times and dates and, according to the asset, a security guard present in the meeting, details of certain favourable trade and investment guarantees made to that individual.’ He flicked his toe at a piece of gravel, sending it skittering into the gutter. ‘The codename was Cicada.’

  ‘The name Ferris’s kidnapper mentioned.’

  ‘Yes. It hung around for a while years ago, the way these things do, then ran out of steam. Now we know why. But it was a time-bomb Colmyer wouldn’t have wanted seen … especially as the file included a photo of him at one of the meetings and another, more recent one, of him glad-handing with individuals in the US Intelligence community. Bull claimed they smoothed his investment path over there in return for information on certain Russians they went on to subvert.’

  ‘Ouch.’

  ‘Quite. But what interested me was the names in the audit trail leading to it. There was Ferris, of course … and Bull.’

  ‘And Bull told Colmyer.’

  ‘Better than that. The trail shows Colmyer made not one but three subsequent visits to that file … and made two attempts to delete the photographs. If an alarm did go off, Bull must have covered for him – but we’ll never know.’

  A few more paces on, Cramer asked if there was any information about the names of the GRU officers.

  ‘As a matter of fact, there is – on one of them, at least.’ Hough stopped and looked around. ‘One of our researchers got it within a few minutes, courtesy of Bellingcat, would you believe?’ Bellingcat was the investigative website that had discovered and released the names of the suspected Skripal poisoners, along with a few other Russians involved in clandestine operations. ‘Kraush is thought to be Colonel Gleb Krau
sh. One of their bright sparks, apparently, on his way to the top.’

  ‘Does that help us?’

  ‘Not really … unless we drop a word in their ear so they can release it to the public. But that might be counter-productive at the moment.’

  Cramer grunted. ‘It would be for Ferris.’

  FORTY

  ‘I hope you’ve got good news,’ said Rik. ‘I get the feeling I’m running out of time.’ He’d made a slow circuit of the park shortly after Harry had arrived, and was now watching the road. He looked drawn and was shuffling from foot to foot and puffing out vapour into the air, shoulders hunched against the cold.

  ‘Some, yes. Where are the guards?’

  ‘Kraush said the hackers are set up and ready to roll out their offensive and I should stay out here. ’

  Harry wondered how much of a threat it really was. Hitting the UK with a cyber attack was a world away from trying to get information from an intelligence file. Somehow the two didn’t match up. But trying to second-guess these people was something he didn’t dare risk. ‘I have a plan,’ he said. ‘But you might not like it.’

  ‘More or less than the shit I’m in already, you mean? Just get me out of here, Harry. I think Irina’s wetting herself to use the taser. Kraush’s keeping a lid on her but I don’t know how much longer that will last. Kraush said they know from the audit trail which files I looked at, and he mentioned Cicada again, but it doesn’t help me remember anything.’

  Harry opened his mouth to reassure him, then stopped. ‘The audit trail’s an internal thing.’

  Rik nodded. ‘Sure. It’s common to most systems. So?’

  ‘But specifically, how could he know details of an audit trail in MI6?’

  ‘There’s only one way: they must have someone on the inside.’

  Harry wanted to deny it but could not. If true, the enormity was mind-blowing. Did it mean someone had been feeding information out … possibly for years? Then logic told him there was something wrong with that line of reasoning.

  ‘If they have a mole with access to the database,’ he said slowly, ‘why would they go to all this trouble to get you over here to corroborate something like a name or a code? If a mole saw the audit trail, surely he or she would be able to follow it and see exactly what you saw.’

  ‘Unless the mole has limited access,’ Rik countered, his voice dull. ‘Maybe they’ve been told there’s something in the files but they don’t have specifics.’ He rubbed his face. ‘This is doing my head in.’

  Harry pushed it aside. Rik was right. There were any number of ways this could have begun. But a mole was something for Cramer and his bosses to worry about. Right now there was too much to do. If Rik was correct about the hackers being ready, the clock was running down. Kraush and his bosses would be getting impatient. ‘Right, it’s action time,’ he said. ‘I’ve got an idea to get you out of this but it can’t be done here; disarming that thing on your leg is too delicate an operation.’

  Rik looked worried. ‘What are you saying? There is nowhere else! Take a look around you.’

  Across the way a figure entered the park and stumbled to a bench, where he sat staring about him as if dazed. It was one of the old men he’d seen arguing over a bottle. It gave Harry an idea. He checked his watch. Less than a couple of hours before Mitchell arrived and Clare got her close to the accident unit. But that time would slip away fast once things got moving. He said, ‘Sit down.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Sit, for Christ’s sake, and don’t ask questions.’ Rik sat and Harry continued, ‘Remember this: once they get here, you’ve been hit and you’ve got a pain deep in your abdomen. It would help if you could throw up.’

  ‘Wha- how do I do that?’

  ‘Stick your fingers down your throat, play half-dead … bite your lip and spit out some blood if you have to, act concussed and confused. Somehow you need to convince them to get you checked out in a hospital. And mention the Cicada word. Got it?’

  Rik didn’t look as if he fully understood but he nodded anyway. ‘Right. Hospital and check-up, throw up, play half-dead. Drop a hint. Got it. But what are you going to be doing? You can’t do all this by yourself.’

  ‘That’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’ve got some local help. Someone you know.’

  ‘Local? I don’t know anybody lo—’

  ‘Clare Jardine.’

  ‘What?’ Rik looked stunned. ‘That crazy bi—’

  Before he could finish Harry hit him, once in the face and once in the stomach, the second punch knocking him off the bench. The moment Rik hit the ground Harry snatched the iPod out of his pocket and pulled the wired buds from his ears. He heard a shout in the background. It was the old man – his witness. He snatched one of the ear buds from Rik’s head and ripped it free of the wire, then pressed it into his hand.

  ‘What the fu—?’ Rik spluttered, his nose streaming blood.

  Harry bent close to Rik’s ear and said urgently, ‘Put the ear-piece back in. You were mugged for the iPod, got it? Mugged. Play concussed, you don’t know where you are and I’ll see you in the hospital.’ He gave Rik an encouraging pat on the face, then took off, walking as fast as he could into the trees behind the park. He made his way parallel to the road back towards the main entrance, but still within sight of the building where Rik was being held. Moments later he saw Kraush and Irina jog out of the front door and turn towards the park. They didn’t seem in a hurry and he hoped it was a good sign. Hopefully as soon as they saw Rik a sense of panic would set in and they’d weigh up the best course of action against what they stood to lose if they didn’t get him checked out … hopefully without the deadly bracelet on his leg. And Sally Mitchell could go back home again without getting out her box of tools.

  FORTY-ONE

  ‘We have to get him to a hospital.’ Kraush was staring down at Ferris, who was spitting out blood and rolling around with his eyes glazed. An ear bud from his iPod lay on the ground near his head.

  As soon as they had entered the park and seen Ferris on the ground, Kraush had looked around and seen the old tramp standing nearby. ‘What happened?’ he demanded. He stepped across before the old man could move and grabbed hold of him. It was like grasping a sack of bones and instinct told him this reject couldn’t be responsible for what had happened. How he hadn’t blown away in the wind was a miracle. ‘Tell me what you saw.’

  ‘They were talking,’ the old man said, trying to wrench himself free but failing. Kraush’s grip was like a vice, fuelled by his anger and desperation. ‘The young man had been running … like I’d seen him before … and they were talking. Suddenly the other man hit him … twice … and ran off. He … he took something from him but I couldn’t see what it was. My eyes aren’t so good.’

  ‘Who was this man?’ Kraush produced a pistol and laid the end of the barrel against the old man’s cheek. ‘What did he look like and where did he go? Quickly!’

  ‘Through the trees!’ The old man pointed to the rear of the park where the bushes melted into the treeline. His hand was trembling uncontrollably and his voice weak with fear. ‘I don’t know who he was … I’d never seen him before. Understand, new faces come through here all the time. I can’t tell you what he looked like, though … it was all so quick.’

  Kraush felt like pulling the trigger and putting the old goat out of his misery, but restrained himself. A gunshot was unlikely to be noticed here but he didn’t want to take the risk. If the police decided to investigate reports of shooting they might well arrive in force. That left no time to dismantle the hacking operation and clear out the people and equipment. The operation was too far advanced to allow that to happen.

  He stood up and gave a double whistle, and seconds later they heard footsteps as the two security guards came racing across the road. Kraush returned to where Ferris was lying on the ground with Irina standing over him.

  ‘I think he’s playing us,’ she announced coolly, and stubbed the toe of her boot i
nto his side. There was a grunt but no other response.

  ‘Help him up!’ Kraush snapped, irritated by Irina’s reaction. The bloody woman had the common sense of a brick. ‘We need to get him talking, otherwise this entire project fails.’ He turned to the two guards. ‘While we get back inside, you go and secure the area. The man who did this might still be nearby. Find him!’

  The guards hurried away while Irina grabbed hold of Ferris by his arm and virtually hoisted him to his feet. She and Kraush carried him out of the park and into the building and laid him on the mattress.

  Kraush began to check him over for broken bones and shone a torch into his eyes. He was more concerned about Ferris’s mental state than physical; if he’d been hit hard enough or had banged his head on the ground, it was possible he had concussion. Setting broken bones could wait but injury to the mind was altogether different.

  ‘Not much reaction,’ he announced, watching Ferris’s head loll to one side. A line of drool ran down the side of his chin and his breathing seemed unnaturally fast. The situation looked bad. If they didn’t get this thing cleared up, the shit-storm from Komsomolsky Prospekt would finish him forever.

  ‘Cic … Cicada …’ Rik murmured, his voice drifting off. ‘The … name.’ He slumped back and his eyes rolled.

  Kraush reacted as if he’d been given an electric shock. He jumped up. ‘We have to get him checked over,’ he said urgently. ‘There’s too much riding on this to leave him.’

  Irina scowled. ‘Really? You’re going to take him to a doctor? What if he’s fooling us? How will you stop him from talking once he’s out of here? And there’s the device on his leg …’

  Kraush stood up, a sense of rage building in his gut. He was fast coming to the conclusion that Irina should have turned the gun on herself instead of Alex, for all the use she was being.

  ‘Don’t argue with me,’ he snarled. ‘Turn off the transmitter.’