Chapter 9
Sunday, March 4th 11:30,
Oman, Muscat (Capital City), Oman, Middle East.
Deane turned the Land Rover onto a side street and waited for two children to cross the road. As he waited, he looked down at the radio which was tuned to the local police band. ‘Turn that up.’
Olsen complied. ‘There’s been a murder.’
Deane pulled the car over and listened to the report. A local shop owner had been found murdered together with his young son. The report continued and confirmed Deane’s worst fears, as the shop sold antiques. Without thinking about the operation or anything else, he forced the Land Rover from its parked position and accelerated towards Saheed’s location.
‘You don’t think it’s your contact?’
Deane said nothing for a while and turned the car sharply to make the next turn. ‘I hope not. Though there aren’t many antique dealers in this area.’ He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. ‘We have time.’ He turned the car again and saw a police car pass them at speed, and Deane knew in his heart he was driving to the scene of his friend’s murder. As he pushed the car past the speed limit, he saw the shop in the distance and the three parked police cars that were stationed outside.
Olsen sighed and looked at Deane as they parked up. ‘Tom, I’m sorry.’
‘Stay with the car.’ Deane got out and rushed towards the shop.
Akira stayed behind the market stall further down the road and watched intently. For a moment he studied Deane’s partner but then his eyes shifted towards the shop. In his heart he knew he was taking a risk being so close to a murder scene, but he couldn’t help himself. There was part of him that wanted to see the pain he had caused Thomas Deane, he craved it.
His eyes grew wider when he saw Deane emerge from the shop and stand outside. Deane looked lost, and more importantly, he looked emotionally wounded. The sight fuelled Akira, and he took great pleasure from it. For a moment he lingered and took everything he could from his achievement but then moved away, knowing he was already late for his meeting with the Kiprich brothers.
Olsen saw his partner emerge from the shop and got out of the car to meet him. ‘There was nothing you could do, Tom.’
Deane looked back at his partner with annoyance. ‘I should have been there, or at the very least seen it coming.’ He hung his head in shame. ‘I failed him.’
Both men walked back to the car in silence.
‘Saheed knew the risk he was taking.’
Deane rubbed his forehead and analysed the situation. ‘Someone is sending me a message. This is no coincidence. Saheed was my contact, he didn’t work for anyone else, and no one knew of our friendship or the information he gave me.’
‘Someone on our side?’
‘I never disclosed my relationship with Saheed to anyone at MI6. He was never an official asset.’ Deane chewed on his lip. ‘This does not bode well for this operation, we may be compromised already. When I spoke to him two days ago, he had nothing to report.’
‘How did he seem then?’
‘Fine. He may have already been compromised but I can’t be sure.’
‘Did you see anything at the murder scene?’
Deane started the Land Rover and joined the traffic. ‘There was no sign of a struggle and no forced entry. Saheed had been shot twice, it may well have been someone he knew. I’ll have to see what I can find out. It’s the least I can do.’ As he weaved the car through the traffic, he shook his head in frustration and tried to bury his feelings of guilt. There was still a job to do. ‘I don’t care what attacks are planned, I’m not going to stand by and watch a member of the Royal family be killed in cold blood. We will not be beaten.’
‘How far is it to Matrah Harbour?’ Olsen asked.
‘Not far, we’ll make it before the British Royal party does. By the way, I don’t want you using that unless it’s absolutely necessary.’ He pointed to Olsen’s gun that was underneath his jacket. ‘We protect the Prince at all costs. With our own bodies if needs be. I see you still haven’t changed your mind about your choice of weapon?’
‘Let’s not go over that again, OK? I’m used to the Beretta and it’s time to focus.’
Deane ignored the comment and pointed out an area in the distance. ‘The harbour is on the south side.’ He directed the Land Rover through the traffic and passed several white houses that gleamed in the sunshine. The harbour was behind the houses, and when the traffic lights changed, they closed in on their target.
Deane slowly brought the car to a stop, turned off the ignition and looked at his nondescript silver watch. ‘They’ll be here soon. When the Royal party arrives, we’ll flank one side each. Understood?’
Olsen noted his partner’s stern look. ‘Agreed.’
‘It’s my understanding that Prince David will chat to some of the fishermen, take an interest in the site and then return to the Sultan’s palace. Turn your radio on, I want us to be in constant communication.’ To his right he saw the British Royal party approach their location.
Olsen flicked a switch on his radio, which was connected from his waist to his left ear. Outside, the harbour setting was one of beauty that appeared to be lost on Deane, who never took his eyes off the approaching vehicles.
The harbour extended into the distance, with an uneven looking walkway covering most parts. On both sides, pebbles covered the surface that led into the nearby sea. Several young boys of no more than twelve years-of-age stood barefoot in the sea and looked at Olsen and Deane inquisitively. After a few seconds, they returned to pulling in an incoming fisherman’s boat. Buckets of fish were on board and the boys started to transfer the contents to the surface.
Olsen kept watch and mapped out the local area in his mind. He took a few steps onto the harbour decking and noted the locations and directions of the footpaths. Before leaving London, he had read up on Matrah harbour. It had now become one of the leading ports in the Middle East and was adjacent to the capital city of Muscat. Not a single cloud was in the sky, and he felt he was gradually adjusting to the heat of Oman. Despite the high temperature, far lower than the average summer temperature of forty degrees Celsius, the humidity was relatively low. He exchanged a look with Deane as both men waited for the Royal party to disembark the cars.
Deane gave a nod to the leading agent who was part of the British Royal Party security contingent and looked over at Olsen. ‘Stay alert!’ he said over the radio.
Olsen gave a discreet nod of the head and flanked the party from the left side, with his partner who covered the right. He watched the Prince carefully, saw him interact with some of the boys that worked at the harbour and wondered how much of it was an act, rather than genuine interest. Olsen’s attention shifted away from the Prince to the activity around the harbour. Unsurprisingly, large groups of Omanis had gathered in the area, to take a closer look at what was probably the first British prince they had ever seen. One by one, Olsen studied each of the men, women, and children carefully, fully aware a security risk could come in any shape or form. A small child of around six or seven years of age attempted to pass him to get closer to the Prince but Olsen placed his large hands in front of him. The child returned to its mother straight away.
As the crowd began to move closer, Olsen spoke quietly to the pack of locals, informing them they would have to stay where they were. ‘Law samaHT, intidherni!’ He gave a nod to a fellow agent who took his position with the locals and Olsen resumed his position on the left-hand side of the Prince. As he looked around his position, he noticed the looks of joy on all the faces of the men, women and children, especially. At the same time, one man caught his attention. Something in Olsen’s mind was activated and his senses became alert. The individual at the corner of the harbour side walkway seemed familiar to him. Not in a friendly way, he did not know the man, but his features sent a warning sign to him. I recognise him…from where? He looked back to see the Prince inspecting a harbour boat and then returned his gaze to the man who had now moved away but had retained his unyielding glare at the British Royal party. Unlike the rest of the locals, there was no sign of joy on this man’s face, only a glare that appeared to be taking in facts and information. Information on the number of agents in the security contingent, perhaps? he thought to himself. Olsen’s mind scrutinised and remembered every detail about him. The target was wearing dark brown trousers, together with a grey shirt. His black hair was in a ponytail, and his dark green eyes refused to leave the Prince’s position.
Deane walked alongside and made sure his partner was still to the left. He looked back at Prince David and stopped a harbour man from getting too close and then resumed his position.
Olsen tried to remember where he had seen the target before but couldn’t place him. Behind him, the Prince continued to inspect the harbour boat. Olsen made his decision. His instincts told him that the target was known and dangerous. He touched the arm of the nearest member of the Royal security contingent. ‘Cover this position. I’ll be back in one minute.’ Olsen moved away from the party and quickly made his way up a small flight of stairs that led to the harbour side walkway. He kept hold of his light brown jacket, so not to alarm the crowd by revealing his weapon and moved through the locals. In the distance he could see the target moving away. Several families got in his way, and Olsen quietly excused himself as they moved. ‘Lo tsimiHun…Lo tsimiHun,’ he called out to the groups. At the end of the walkway, there was no sign of the target. Olsen scrutinised every individual nearby but couldn’t see where he had gone.
Deane looked out to the harbour and saw several boats approach, all of them visibly containing perishable stock that would end up on the market before the day was out. Deane did a double take as he checked the left side and saw no sign of his partner. He glanced around sharply, taking in every face but couldn’t find his partner. Where’s Sam? Why isn’t he following my orders? I can’t protect him unless he listens to me! He continued his search and became more concerned with every passing moment.
Olsen returned to his post and relieved the other agent. Straight away, a glare from his partner caught his eye. Over the radio, Deane’s voice could be heard. ‘Stay with the party! Don’t wander off!’ Olsen nodded back at him and decided to explain his actions when any possibility of a threat had passed. He looked around him one last time but there was no sign of the target in the crowds.
Burton signed the confidential operation sheet and placed it in his ‘Out’ tray on his desk. At the office window, another rainy day had presented itself to London. As the glass held off another torrent of rain, Burton made a decision to take a long lunch hour and surprise his wife at home. Even though there was money in their current account, he had yet to feel like a man who had pulled his life back from the brink. A sleepless night had not helped matters either. Burton took his faded trench coat off the hook and closed the door to his office. His assistant looked up from her lunch. ‘I’m just popping out, Dawn. I’m going to stop off at home for a while and come back later. Any problems call me on my mobile.’
Dawn put down her yoghurt and gave her boss a confused look. ‘Are you OK, sir? You don’t seem yourself at all. Don’t forget you have that meeting this afternoon. You didn’t forget, did you?’
Burton thought for a moment; he had forgotten. To his surprise, it didn’t seem to bother him. ‘Sure, no problem, I’ll be back for that.’ He noticed the miniscule lunch his assistant was eating and wondered how she could make it through a day on such small portions. ‘Don’t go bingeing now, Dawn, I’ll see you in a bit.’
Dawn smiled and as she watched him go, she thanked her lucky stars she had been assigned to the likeable Burton rather than the more formal senior agents.
In the lift, Burton pressed the button for the basement and leaned against one of the mirrored walls. For the hundredth time, he tried to erase his act of betrayal from his memory. More than anything he wanted to pay off his debts and prove to his wife and son that he wasn’t the failure they had been led to believe. Ever since he had sold the schedule of the Royal visit, Burton had been thinking of the consequences that would come very soon. Even though he was still convinced that he had done the right thing for his family, the guilt had proven to be unbearable at times. Was it really the only option, or was I just too bone idle to find an alternative? In his car, Burton pulled out of the basement. As he moved into second gear, his mobile phone began to vibrate. He flipped it open and used his other hand to hold on to the steering wheel. ‘This is Burton.’
‘It’s Harry. Booked any luxury holidays yet?’
‘With the debts I have to pay off? Not likely. There aren’t any problems are there?’ He pulled the car into a nearby garage to buy some flowers for his wife.
‘No but something has come up. If you think that money was good, then this will blow you away. You ready?’
Burton didn’t like where the conversation was going. ‘What are you talking about, Harry?’
‘It’s simple. My clients are very interested in you working for them on a more full-time basis. You know, just little things here and there, just useful bits of information when they need it.’
‘Jesus, Harry, don’t you remember what I said? It was a one off. I’m never doing it again, to tell you the truth I’m having second thoughts about it all, anyway. Either way, I got the money I needed, but it came with a price. I’m not going to sell any information again though.’
Harry’s tone turned aggressive very quickly. ‘Don’t you get it, Hal? This was never going to be a one off. If you really believed that then you’re a bigger fool than I thought you were.’
‘What are you saying?’ Burton was back in his car and gripped the steering wheel tightly as he waited for a gap in the traffic.
‘You don’t say no to these people, Hal! I’ll make it real clear for you. Either you help them again, or I’ll have no choice but to disclose your details to them. No way am I taking the fall for you.’
Burton smashed his free hand on the steering wheel. ‘You son of a bitch, Harry! I won’t be bullied by anyone, least of all you! I’m loyal to my job and my family. If you want to sell me out, then go right ahead, you’ll just have to live with yourself!’ Burton snapped the phone shut and threw it against the dashboard. ‘Shit!’ The fact that Harry was willing to sell him out was no surprise. Burton was furious with himself, he had misjudged the situation and was now in way over his head. He saw the speed he was doing and slammed hard on the brakes when he saw the turning for his road appear in the heavy rain. The car swerved in the wet conditions, and just missed a neighbour’s car. He slowly came to his driveway and started to feel the stress spread throughout his body as he turned the ignition off. Was Harry just bluffing or are his clients going to come after me? Burton started to think of the consequences but stopped himself from doing so. He got out of the car and slammed the door shut as he approached the house.
Kate sat at the dining room table and tried again to write the letter that her husband would find when he returned from work that day. She had toyed with the idea of telling him face to face but genuinely believed she would not be able to carry it through and would end up staying with him once again. She looked at the wedding ring on her finger and still wasn’t convinced of her actions. A noise at the door made her look up straight away. To her surprise, her husband appeared at the doorway holding some flowers. ‘Hal! What a lovely surprise, I didn’t expect to see you until later!’
‘Yeah well, it was quiet at the office, so I thought I’d come home and surprise you!’
Kate took the flowers and tried to smile.
‘Look, can we talk for a minute?’ He saw a writing pad on the table. ‘Have you started writing to your sister again?’
Kate took the pad and put it away in a nearby drawer. ‘I thought I’d try to send her an update on Oscar that’s all.’ She studied her husband closely. ‘It’s not more bad news, is it?’
‘Of course not, I just wanted you to know that I’ve sorted out all our financial problems.’
Kate took her hand away from his and wondered what her husband had done to solve the problem so quickly. ‘Just like that? One minute we’re in the red and on the verge of being kicked out onto the street and now…what…everything is OK?’
‘That’s right. All you need to know is that we’re going to be fine, and things will get better from now on. I promise you I won’t let you and Oscar down again. You do believe me, don’t you, Kate?’
Kate looked at her husband and barely recognised the man she had married years ago. Whoever sat in front of her now was not the same person. A part of her wanted to scream at him for thinking things could be fixed so easily but then she remembered the letter and felt newfound confidence as to what she would write. ‘Of course, I believe you, Hal.’ She hugged her husband for the last time and broke away before he could kiss her. ‘Anyway, lovely to see you but I promised Oscar, I’d take him for a lunchtime walk with one of the other mums from around the corner. It’s stopped raining now. Is that OK?’
Burton smiled and felt assured things were back on track. ‘Sure, I’ll grab myself some lunch here and then head back.’ For a moment he wondered whether Kate was happy now that they were out of debt but dismissed the idea. Why wouldn’t she be? Harry’s threat took over his thoughts, and he wondered how he could save his family from any more trouble if Harry sold him out.