A Covert War (13 page)

He crashed through the undergrowth, not knowing which way to run, and knowing that as he blundered through the forest he was sending out loud signals to Grebo and his visitor.

He heard a voice shout out; ‘He’s over there!’ A torch beam flickered across the trees about six feet above Marcus’s head.

He dropped lower and turned right, crashing into tree trunks and falling over logs that had been cut and were laying there ready for shifting by the Forestry Commission during the working day. Eventually Marcus came out on to a forest track. It was wide enough for articulated lorries to drive along, and it gave Marcus a chance to move further away from his pursuers. But it also gave the two men a chance to get a shot off without the trees getting in the way.

Marcus could feel his strength draining away and he was beginning to stumble now. Each time he fell he knew this gave Grebo an edge. He also knew it wouldn’t be too long before Grebo caught up with him, and it would be there that the American would shoot him.

And as he fell again for probably the tenth time, he almost blacked out. He waited until he could think clearly, but now he could hear footsteps. He scrambled to his feet and collapsed again. This was it, he thought; the end.

He heard the footsteps again. They were hurried and came thudding up beside him. He felt an arm go round his waist and a voice say.

‘Come on son; get your arse in ‘ere.’

He felt the softness of a car seat and heard the door closing behind him. Then the surge of acceleration as the car picked up speed and motored away from the forest.

TEN

Marcus woke up. He lay still for a moment enjoying the relaxed comfort of a warm bed and a soft pillow beneath his head, his last dream still lingering in the outer reaches of his consciousness. He opened his eyes and moved his head a little. He could see a saline drip hanging from its steel hook, the clear tube snaking down towards his arm. He lifted his head off the pillow and saw Cavendish sitting in a small armchair a few feet away from him.

‘At last, Blake, you are awake.’

Marcus groaned and dropped his head back on the pillow. ‘Where am I?’ he asked, his voice cracking a little because of the dryness in his throat. ‘And why are you here?’

Cavendish looked a trifle smug. ‘Well, dear boy, first of all you are in a private clinic. But don’t worry, Her Majesty’s Government is picking up the bill. And the reason I’m here is because I saved your life.’

Marcus lifted his head sharply. ‘You? There’s no way you lifted me off the ground, Cavendish.’

‘A mere detail, Blake. But you blundered into something well out of your league and we had to drag you out.’

Marcus regarded him quite severely. ‘What do you mean?’

Cavendish shifted in his chair and leaned forward. ‘We have had Grebo’s house under surveillance for some considerable time. And because we have followed you from the moment you walked out of the safe house, we knew there would be trouble once you showed up.’

Marcus struggled into a sitting position. ‘You weren’t there, were you?’

Cavendish shook his head. ‘No; I’m too old for that kind of thing. I let the younger ones do that. And fortunately the man I had on duty recognised the possibility of a disaster in the making and called up the local police. It was one of the local coppers who saved you.’

Marcus leaned back against his pillow which he had pulled up behind him. ‘So it’s all blown; Grebo knows you’ve been watching him.’

Cavendish allowed himself a little triumphant smile. ‘No, we were able to explain that there had been a report of a suspicious character in the neighbourhood and we were doing close checks on all the houses in the area.’

‘And Grebo fell for that?’

Cavendish shrugged. ‘Who knows? That was the explanation we gave; it was all we could come up with. What it means now, of course, is that we will have to pull our detail back for a while, just in case Mister Grebo has any suspicions.’

The door opened and a nurse came in. She walked over to the bed and removed the drip from Marcus’s arm. Then she hung the tube up over the empty bottle and pushed the stand to the rear of the bed.

‘Can I go home, nurse?’ Marcus asked.

The nurse smiled at Marcus and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

‘What I want to know, Blake is how on earth you learned of Danvor Grebo and the house?’

Marcus looked away from the closed door, giving up all thoughts of the nurse and turned his attention back to Cavendish. ‘First of all, please call me Marcus; I got used to not being called Blake once I left school. And Grebo’s house? I traced it through the number plate of the Mercedes I saw in the City Road: the one used in the attack at my office.’

Cavendish looked mortified. ‘How on earth did you catch on to that?’

So Marcus told him. ‘I saw the whole thing beginning to unfold through my office window. I didn’t realise then what was happening, and by the time it clicked I didn’t have time to say anything to you because I was busy, as I’m sure you will recall.’

‘I’ll give you that,’ Cavendish admitted drily. ‘Who do you know that can trace vehicle plates?’

Marcus shook his head. ‘Can’t tell you that; client confidentiality.’

Cavendish laughed. ‘It isn’t important, but it very nearly got you killed. And I’m sure your father would have had apoplexy if that had happened.’

‘You know my father?’ Marcus asked.

Cavendish nodded. ‘Your name rang a bell. Then I remembered: Sir Henry Blake. He rang my office a few days ago. I didn’t speak to him but later I remembered that he was on my radar for a while some years back during a ‘catch-all’ enquiry we were doing.’

It was Marcus’s turn to laugh. ‘Seems to me it was my mother who was on your radar, Cavendish,’ he told him.

Cavendish frowned. ‘I’m not sure I know what you mean.’

‘Hong Kong; the handover.’

It suddenly dawned on Cavendish. ‘Ah yes; the lovely Emily. Your father is a lucky man, Marcus; your mother is quite a beauty.’

Marcus gave an emphatic nod. ‘Good, now you know where I get my good looks and intelligence from.’

Cavendish held up his hand. ‘You leave the intelligence bit to the professionals. You’ll learn nothing by getting yourself killed.’

‘I did learn something though,’ Marcus told him.

Cavendish immediately adopted a cautionary look. ‘Oh, what was that?’

‘I heard Grebo’s visitor tell him that there’s a shipment due in at Kings Lynn docks in a couple of days and a return load is now in a warehouse at Feltwell. I also heard someone say that the station chief is responsible for organising the shipment going out.’

Cavendish looked as though he had been run through with a sword. His expression turned to stone and he sat in complete silence for a minute.

‘Say that again please.’

Marcus knew he had said something of extreme importance. More so than that, he realised there was now far more to this man Grebo than he had first assumed. So he repeated it again, but slowly this time.

Cavendish muttered something and left the room. Marcus was now beginning to feel as though he had walked into a nest if vipers when he broke into Grebo’s house. He could see how lucky he was to have escaped from the man’s clutches because it wouldn’t have been a quick shot to the head, but more than likely a severe beating before being shot. And he was basing that premise simply on the way Cavendish had reacted to his news.

When Cavendish came back he had Susan Ellis with him. Marcus was stunned at seeing her there with him. She looked quite helpless somehow; as though it wasn’t her fault for being there. She gave Marcus a sorry looked with a weak shrug of her shoulders.

‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded to know.

Cavendish offered Susan the chair he had been sitting in earlier. Then he spoke to Marcus.

‘Let me explain something,’ Cavendish began. ‘I have been investigating a case that spans many borders and involves citizens of many countries. I have had to be extremely careful and sensitive about whom I approach and on whose toes I tread. Miss Ellis received another letter from her brother two days ago.’ Marcus looked quickly at Susan who nodded. ‘She went to see you, although goodness knows why, and found an empty office.’ At that moment, Marcus did not know his office had been cleaned out by Cavendish’s men. ‘So she contacted me, which of course was the sensible thing to do. I brought Miss Ellis here so she could talk to me on the way. When Miss Ellis mentioned her brother, some pieces of my increasingly complex jigsaw began to fall into place. You, Marcus have just added another piece.

‘Are you going to tell me what piece of the jigsaw I’m supposed to have supplied?’ Marcus asked.

Cavendish shook his head briskly. ‘Not yet Marcus: all in good time.’ He turned to Susan. ‘Now my dear, if you don’t mind, I need to talk with Marcus alone. I’ll see you out.’

Susan stood up and came over to the side of the bed. ‘I hope you’ll soon be up and about, Marcus. And I do hope one day we can both see David.’

‘What are you going to do now?’ he asked her. Susan glanced over at Cavendish before looking back at Marcus. ‘Well, if Mister Cavendish will arrange a taxi for me, I’ll go home and get on with my life. I intend going to the newspapers about David again; they’re the only ones who might be able to help.’

‘I wish you luck.’ It was a poor but well-meant offering from Marcus; he could see no way Susan was going to make progress with her self-imposed task.

‘Thank you, Marcus,’ she said quickly and leaned forward, planting a kiss on his cheek. ‘Goodbye.’

She left the room with Cavendish behind her. Five minutes later the MI6 chief came back. He shut the door and walked over to the bed and sat on the edge.

‘I believe,’ he began without preamble, ‘that Danny Grebo is smuggling drugs into the country and shipping arms out. That is why your information has been so vital.’ Marcus frowned heavily. ‘Where the bloody hell would Grebo get arms from?’ he asked disbelievingly.

‘That’s my problem,’ Cavendish replied. ‘I believe I know, but I cannot prove it. It isn’t actually Grebo who is shipping the arms out: it’s the CIA. Danny Grebo is part of a chain. His cousin, Milan Janov is another link, but he’s based in Turkmenistan. There are a lot of top, top people caught up in this, Marcus. There are billions of dollars involved too. That’s why you nearly got yourself killed; you blundered into something that is way beyond you. But you opened a door for me and it has given us the opportunity to step through.’

‘Us?’ queried Marcus.

Cavendish nodded. ‘Yes, us; from now on Marcus I want you to work with me.’

***

John Deveraux, the American Military Attaché at the American Embassy knew that Randy Hudson, the CIA chief was worried about something by the way in which he had asked for some of Deveraux’s time. They often spoke about common links within their remit in the United Kingdom, but there was one area in which they were both involved that was rarely discussed, and that was the covert organisation within The Chapter. And it was because of the CIA chief’s look of concern that Deveraux knew their meeting would not bring good news.

He waited for Hudson to make himself comfortable before asking him why he wanted a meeting. Randy Hudson was in his fifties and beginning to show the ravages of time versus exercise. With fewer and fewer field operations and more desk work, Hudson looked his age.

‘There was an incident at Grebo’s house the other night,’ he told Deveraux. ‘Grebo was in the middle of discussing the weekend shipment with one of his men. He’d gone into the kitchen to get some drinks; noticed this guy’s reflection in a mirror. He went back to his visitor and kept him talking while he got hold of a shotgun, then went out and faced the guy. Unfortunately the guy got away. Grebo chased him out into the woods at the back of the house, but the local cops were on the scene mighty quick; Grebo had to back off.’

‘Has the operation been compromised?’ Deveraux asked him.

Hudson shook his head. ‘I don’t think so, but I think we should call a halt to the operation for a while.’

‘Why is that?’

‘There was something that didn’t ring quite true with what happened. Grebo couldn’t figure out how the local boys got to the scene so quick. He said there was no phone call made, no alarms ringing off. The house is fairly secluded too. Grebo had chased the guy into the forest. Said he would have despatched him there if he had caught him. But the guy stumbled into the main road and into a policeman’s arms.’

Deveraux considered the implications of what he had been told. It certainly sounded like some kind of connivance with the local force.

‘There’s a shipment due in this weekend, right?’ Hudson nodded. Deveraux went on. ‘And one due out in a couple of days?’

‘We’ll hold that,’ Hudson told him. ‘It’s in a bonded warehouse. It should be ok.’

‘How long do you want to hold off for?’ Deveraux asked him.

‘Couple of weeks. No activity until then.’

‘Will you tell Grebo?’

The CIA chief nodded. ‘I’ll tell him to close everything down.’

Deveraux whistled through his teeth. ‘That’s a long time; our client will think we’re reneging on the deal.’

‘Our client will do as he’s told,’ Hudson remarked angrily. ‘He’s getting a good deal out of us, and we’re an easy market for his goods.’

Deveraux put his hand out. ‘Be that as it may, Randy, it’s always a tricky operation shipping those arms out; we don’t always have a smooth run.’

‘I know, John, but Cavendish is getting too close for comfort, and I can’t afford to throw caution to the wind just because some fucking raghead in Afghanistan is getting impatient.’

‘So why is Cavendish still around to worry the life out of you?’ Deveraux put to him. ‘What happened to the hit?’

Hudson shook his head. ‘They fucked up. I don’t know why. All I know is that Grebo’s man waited for the full two minutes in the road, but the guys didn’t come out. He left.’ Hudson lifted his hands in a gesture of helplessness. ‘That was the agreed plan. I know Cavendish put a team in and cleaned the building totally. We lost one guy and the other is probably on his way to The Intelligence Bureau in Pakistan.’ It was there that the alleged questioning of MI6 suspects was carried out in order to bypass the interrogation laws in Great Britain. ‘No doubt they’ll get the truth from him.’