Chapter 20
Friday, March 16th 14:00,
Moscow, Russia.
Marraud winced with pain as he stitched his stomach shut, sealing a four-inch wound that had had been slowly killing him. How he had managed to make it back to his flat had been a mystery. With the frequent blackouts, he was shocked to have made it back at all. He had no idea whether he had any internal bleeding, but his first priority was to make his superiors aware of what had happened.
In all his life, he had never felt so weak and tired. He wanted to sleep more than anything, but his drive and determination remained, despite his weakened condition.
As he forced himself up, he staggered over to the laptop by the small bedside cabinet. Time seemed to slow down as he waited impatiently for the device to boot up and show the standard login screen. Marraud checked his watch and felt some relief when the login screen appeared. He knew it wouldn’t be long until Salenko’s companion found him. His fingers moved quickly across the keyboard, and the operating system started to load. Marraud knew if he sent a report of the attack to compliment his surveillance reports from the previous days, it would turn the tide on Salenko and his partner, ensuring reinforcements would arrive from France and other countries. Without the information, Salenko and his co-conspirators would remain a mystery. One that would prove to be deadly and untouchable when Salenko was elected the next President of Russia. If possible, Marraud planned to send the information and do all he could to return to Paris or find somewhere else in Europe to lie low and recover.
Finally, the laptop loaded and Marraud moved quickly to provide as much information as possible in an encrypted email. He noted it was configured to connect to MI6 rather than the DGSE, but there was no time to change the settings. As he connected the Ethernet cable from the nearby router, he waited for the connection symbol to appear on the screen in front of him. His right hand tenderly touched the wound on his left side as he watched the report begin to send. When the status reached thirty percent progress he froze with dread when he saw the connection lights on the router go out. He checked the cables straight away and tried again until his worst fears were realised. A red error message appeared.
ERROR CODE 16. NO CONNECTION FOUND. PLEASE CHECK THE CABLES AND SETTINGS AND TRY AGAIN.
Marraud stared at the screen, not able to think straight. The router had been working fine that very day and he hadn’t experienced any problems in the past. One alternative came into his mind, but he had to be sure. Quickly, Marraud took the wire and plugged it into the telephone on the lounge table. He lifted the receiver and waited for a dial tone.
Nothing.
It too was dead. Marraud knew his position had been compromised, and someone had cut the nearby phone lines. At the nearby table, he quickly grabbed a USB memory stick, and set about copying all the data he had. A display popped up and showed the progress of the data copy. When it was finished, he put the device in his jacket pocket, and planned to leave Russia any way he could.
At the front door, he stepped out onto the landing, but stopped in his tracks at the sight of someone coming up the stairs.
Marraud stepped back and locked his door. He took hold of his black Heckler & Koch pistol and stepped out the bedroom window onto the metal fire escape. He saw a car on the ground below with several people looking up and shouting at him. Just as he began to climb up towards the roof, he heard the front door to his flat smash open and the sound of footsteps rush towards his window. Marraud locked his left hand around the metal ladder and aimed his pistol at the window.
Akira appeared and smiled to himself, pleased with Denyer for finding his prey. Excitement flowed through him, knowing he would emerge victorious within the hour. No more chances, I will not fail Madeline again. He watched Marraud carefully and ducked down to avoid the incoming gunfire.
As Marraud turned to climb up the ladder, the pain was unbearable, and his stomach cried out under the strain. Marraud locked down the safety pin on his gun and tried to put it into his trouser pocket but with his strength failing him, the gun flipped out and fell to the ground below. Marraud watched it fall and desperately tried to stop himself from blacking out, he reached the top and slumped onto the roof. His blue eyes glanced down and saw the sight of blood on his clean shirt. All the movement must have caused his stitches to burst and the wound to reopen. He felt the memory stick in his pocket and rustled up thoughts of Martine once more. Marraud was adamant in his heart and mind, he would not relinquish his life, there simply had to be a way to escape and deliver the information. He slowly stumbled over to the other side of the roof and looked out. The nearest building was some distance away, but Marraud still thought about trying to jump the distance to escape. Before he could even consider it, the sound of someone on the fire escape ladder made him spin around.
Akira stepped off the ladder and stood tall as he looked at the weakened Marraud. Madeline was right. This ends now. No more pity, no more chances.
Marraud summed up the situation and knew immediately if he were to escape, it would have to be through Akira. In the space of a few seconds, all the operations he’d been involved in flashed by and with it came the belief that had been with him from the very beginning, he was a French Special Agent, and all he had ever wanted to do was help others and make a difference somehow. Ahead of him stood his greatest challenge. Not for the first time, a golden image of Martine, his only true love, came to the surface. Her dazzling smile and beautiful face captivated his heart and gave him strength. One more time, for Martine…
Drake rushed along the corridor to briefing room three. He fumbled with his papers and saw his deputy in the distance. ‘Problem, Ramsey?’
The MI6 number two waited at the door to the briefing room and sized up his superior whilst he thought over Drake’s attitude in his mind. He could cause the deaths of hundreds of our agents, not to mention his intentions for S.U.C.O. I have to stop him. Ramsey spoke in a calm tone. ‘I want to talk about this inquiry.’
‘Which will resume in half an hour.’ Drake sighed and folded his arms. ‘I don’t have time for meaningless discussions, now if you’ll excuse—’
Ramsey took a step closer and imposed his six-foot six-inch frame over the smaller Drake. ‘Make the time! I don’t care what the PM has said to you, this team is the best we’ve ever had. I won’t stand by and let you crucify them.’
‘If you’ve been listening to the inquiry, you’ll know that this team isn’t as trustworthy as we were led to believe.’
‘They’ve put their lives on the line ten times over in the past.’
‘That’s irrelevant, Kevin, and you know it. If you’re finding the inquiry uncomfortable, may I suggest you take over in Operations Command or find yourself other matters to attend to?’
Ramsey watched him closely. What’s he hiding? Knowing the seriousness of the situation, Ramsey decided to back down and do all he could to remove Drake from MI6. He moved towards the door and made his excuses. ‘Fine, I’ll find some other work to get on with. Just don’t tear S.U.C.O. in half, that’s all I’m asking.’
Drake ignored Ramsey and confidently walked into briefing room three and took his position at the front of the room. Several reports were laid out on the main table, from each member of the S.U.C.O. team. Drake began to read each one carefully and took note of any irregularities that could be used to his advantage.
Olsen paid for the two fruit juices and sat next to Rachel in the café near MI6 headquarters. He looked into her blue eyes and spoke in a downbeat tone. ‘I tell you, Rach, this isn’t going well at all. It’s a shame you can’t hear all this stuff. Drake is going to take us to the cleaners, I can see in his eyes how much he wants it.’
Rachel raised her eyebrows in surprise. ‘But this Drake guy, he’s part of MI6 as well, isn’t he?’
‘Drake is the Chief of MI6. I knew him years ago when he was in that post the first time around. He wants the service to be low profile and non-hostile, in other words, full of intelligence analysts and nothing more. I promise you he’s going to do everything he can to have us thrown out.’
‘Was there no way you could get around the security and allow me to attend the inquiry?’ she asked. Frustration grew inside her, she wanted to know more about the world of MI6 and what her husband got up to.
‘Not a chance. Sorry, Rach. It’s out of my hands, this whole thing has been classified. I’m grateful you’re here though, I don’t really fancy going through this one on my own.’
Rachel thought over her next question. She still felt hopeful he’d be set free from the service and was ashamed of those feelings. More than anything, she was worried for the future. ‘Sam…what if this does go against you? Would it really be so bad to leave?’
Olsen watched her closely and saw the caution in her eyes. ‘You know…I wouldn’t blame you if you secretly hoped I would be forced out. I’d understand, really I would.’
Rachel shifted in her seat and twiddled a strand of her dark brown hair. ‘A part of me wants you to be set free from that place, so we can be together at least.’ She closed her eyes and felt the pain. ‘I just can’t lose you.’
Olsen smiled. ‘I feel the same.’
‘At first, when we met it was exciting. As we’ve gotten older and closer though, it’s been bothering me more and more. Ever since you asked me to marry you it’s gotten worse by the day. You know that and though I’ve really tried, I can’t push this away.’
Olsen took hold of her hand and held it tightly. ‘I wouldn’t want you to.’ He struggled with his words at first but then looked up. ‘This isn’t an excuse, but I’ve been trying to think how I got started in all this and how I got in so deep. I don’t know…my dad always wanted me to follow this path and then there was Tom as well. I just went with the flow, I suppose.’ Olsen’s deep voice changed to a tender tone and for the first time in months he spoke from the heart. ‘Rach…I may have done this job for eight years but all that matters to me is being with you. I don’t want the rest of our lives to be just a handful of years or months.’
Rachel kissed him and smiled radiantly. ‘That’s all I ask.’
Olsen finished his fruit juice and touched her hand again. ‘I’m sorry I can be a real insensitive guy sometimes. If I’m going to leave this place, I need to break out of the training I’ve had over the years. You know, show nothing, say nothing and feel nothing?’ He felt better and for the first time his mind opened up to the possibility of doing something else but the other side of him, the side that craved the action and the chance to make a difference, bubbled away inside him and almost refused to let go. How am I going to get past this? He looked at Rachel. ‘Are you staying here?’
‘I’ll stick around here for a while and then I’ll meet you outside as before. Promise me you won’t lose your temper? It won’t help, you know.’
Olsen nodded and embraced her. He waved as he left the café and walked towards MI6 headquarters. Is this going to be my last day as a government agent? What else can I be?
Jozef dropped some money into the drinks dispenser and waited for his drink to be ready. He slumped against the machine in a trance as nurses and other hospital personnel walked past him. For the past several days, the forty-one-year-old had been staying in a private clinic in Slovakia. After the attack on the MI6 teams, Jozef had been eager to stay in Poland but knew the dangers of repercussions. By contacting several allies of his, he had managed to have his brother admitted to the nearest facility. Jozef took his drink and slowly walked down the corridor. Waiting there was his long-time friend, Zoltan Ferec.
‘Any change, Jozef?’
Jozef stroked his growing beard and closed his eyes. ‘No, Zoltan. According to the doctor here, Gyorgy suffered serious chest wounds and internal bleeding. The next twenty-four hours will prove critical.’ For the first time, the possibility of losing his only family hit home. His voice sounded weak and fragile as he spoke again. ‘What will I do if he doesn’t recover?’
Ferec didn’t know what to say. He had just come from the side room, where his friend’s brother was being treated. Ferec had seen many terminal patients in his time and knew that Gyorgy was not going to survive. Despite this, he couldn’t bring himself to speak the truth. ‘Do not think like that, Jozef. He will survive and then all three of us will continue our war with the West. You must believe me.’
Jozef doubted that belief. ‘I will go and sit with him. I’ll see you tomorrow, Zoltan.’
‘Tomorrow, Jozef.’ Ferec clasped his friend’s hand and slowly began to walk down the corridor.
Jozef approached the side room and looked through the window. He forced himself to enter and sat down next to his brother. His eyes studied the machines and the several tubes that kept his only family alive. ‘Stay with me, Gyorgy, you must stay with me.’ Jozef dropped his head on to his brother’s lap and prayed.
The lights of briefing room three felt warmer than the beating sun of the Middle East as Jordan continued to move around in his seat.
Drake sat motionless in his chair. ‘Let’s move onto when your teams entered the house which was supposedly being used by the Kiprich brothers.’
‘Well, we searched every part of that place but found no trace of them. However, we did find five locals tied up in the back room. They appeared to be Polish.’
‘What were they doing there?’
‘I don’t know, sir. At that point, a gas canister smashed through the front window of the house. I issued an order to my team to put on their gas masks but unfortunately, one of my men wasn’t quick enough.’
A pause came and then another question. ‘I’m sorry, I know what it feels like to lose men under your command.’
Jordan looked away to what seemed like another place only he could see but then came back to the present.
‘Then what happened?’ asked the male committee member.
‘Well, I and the other three agents came under attack from the woods ahead. We continued to return fire for some time whilst I tried to contact Team B to request support. I don’t know what the problem was, but I never could get them on the radio. They were jamming us for sure.’
‘You have proof of that, Jordan?’ asked Drake.
‘Yes, sir, nobody answered.’
Drake nodded solemnly. ‘Continue.’
Jordan gritted his teeth and knew how bad things looked for him. ‘I thought about the situation and ordered my agents to leave the house via the back door. I stayed at the living room window to draw their fire. My deputy then returned on his own, advising me we had lost two more agents as hostiles had come in through the back door. I could hear the gunfire, so we had no choice but to leave the house and try to return to the armoured van where the rest of S.U.C.O. was located.’
Drake’s eyebrows shot up with his next question. ‘You left the house?’
Jordan stayed calm. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘What of the hostages? You left them, too?’
‘In the heat of the moment, sir. I did try to save them but—’
The Chief of MI6 frowned as he had to repeat a comment from another testimony. ‘A yes or no will suffice for the record, please.’
‘It's not as simple as a yes or—’
‘Answer the question!’
Jordan snapped and shouted at the committee. ‘Yes! I left them! If we stayed, we wouldn't be here now. What do you want me to say? I didn't know they were going to kill them! I think about them all the time!’
Drake picked up a report from his desk and donned his black-rimmed glasses. The fluorescent lights reflected off them and showed the thickness of the lenses. ‘According to the police report, the bodies of the Polish locals were riddled with bullets from a Colt M16A2 rifle. That is the rifle that all team members were issued with, correct?’
Jordan's mouth opened wide in astonishment. ‘Excuse me, sir, is the committee accusing me of murdering those hostages?’
‘We're not accusing anyone of anything. We are merely attempting to learn the truth. Answer the question please.’
Jordan got up from his chair and placed both hands on the desk as he looked straight at the inquiry committee. His voice was stern but controlled. ‘No, sir. Kiprich and his men killed them. Not us.’
Drake looked at the agent ahead of him. ‘You have proof of this? You see, Agent Jordan, all I have here is proof that their bodies were riddled with bullets from the weapons you and team S.U.C.O. were issued with.’
‘Will that be all, sir? I've worked for this service for just over twenty years. I'm not a murderer. I don’t care for these accusations.’ Jordan’s voice dripped with hatred.
The Chief of MI6 looked at the large clock at the far end of the room and exchanged glances with the other members of the committee. ‘I think that’s enough for today. This inquiry is adjourned until tomorrow.’
Several floors below, Ramsey stood tall in the records department after finding what he had been looking for. He had spent the last hour searching through every record that had been stored for Operation Reprisal. After his chat with Drake and watching scenes from the inquiry, he had decided to check out every record on the operation, just to be sure. Ramsey continued to work the computer and several displays flashed by on the screen. The profile of POL1: Agent Bedford, appeared with a red display, indicating that the file had been locked. Seven options were displayed in the corner of the screen: