Agent 21: Reloaded: Book 2 (5 page)

‘Like what?’ Zak asked.

Michael shrugged. ‘Drugs. Gun-running. The usual. Do you understand what money laundering is, Zak?’

‘I think so. Is it when criminals take money that they’ve stolen or whatever, and then put it into proper businesses.’

‘Exactly that. They declare it. They pay tax on it. The dirty money becomes clean. The Angolan diamond trade is a very good way of laundering money. Many of the mine owners ask no questions when they sell their raw diamonds. A criminal organization can simply use their dirty money to buy diamonds in Angola, export them to the diamond markets of the West and sell them on. Hey presto! Not only clean money, but also a profit.’

‘Clever,’ Zak said.

‘Oh yes, Zak. That’s the thing about terrorists. The good ones, at least. They’re very clever. Which means we have to be a little bit cleverer.’ He gave Zak a knowing look. ‘By “we”, of course, what I really mean is “you”.’

Zak looked out through the windows of the bridge across the grey, desolate sea. ‘Go on,’ he said.

‘MI6 have been monitoring one particular terrorist
group very closely. They call themselves Black Wolf. Most organizations of this sort commit atrocities to make a point. Sometimes it’s religious, sometimes it’s political. But there’s always a reason behind their actions, Zak. Always an ideology. They say that one man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter. I wouldn’t go that far, but I can tell you this: Black Wolf are different. The only thing they’re interested in is money. If another terrorist group wants an atrocity committed in their name, Black Wolf will carry it out for them. If the price is right, of course.’

‘Of course,’ Zak replied. He felt a bit sick and it wasn’t just the after-effects of his decompression.

‘Today is Monday. This Thursday, a ship called the MV
Mercantile
is due to make port in Lobambo on the coast of Angola. It’s a small village with a natural harbour, normally just used by local fishing vessels. The
Mercantile
is just one of thousands of merchant vessels sailing the oceans at any one time. A very high proportion of them are carrying out illicit activities.’

‘How come?’

‘The sea is very big, Zak. Ships are very small, relatively speaking. They’re impossible to police effectively. You can monitor the ports, of course, but once they’re in the open sea …’ He shrugged, as if to say,
Anything goes
. ‘All our intelligence suggests that
this particular ship, however, has been chartered by Black Wolf. Its purpose is to collect an extremely large shipment of Angolan raw diamonds, then carry them north-west across the Atlantic to Boston where they’ll be sold to a major diamond company. I want you to make sure it never gets that far.’

‘Why us?’ Zak asked. ‘Why … why me?’

‘There are reasons,’ Michael said calmly.

‘Ones that you’re going to tell me, or ones that you’re keeping to yourself?’ Zak knew he sounded a bit ungracious, but he remembered how during his last mission Michael had kept to himself the knowledge that Señor Martinez had killed his parents. ‘Anyway,’ he continued when it was clear Michael wasn’t going to follow that line of conversation any further, ‘how am I supposed to do that? I thought you said merchant ships were impossible to police.’

Michael smiled. ‘Impossible-
ish
,’ he said. ‘Sometimes we have to … how can I put this? Cut corners. You’ll need to start off by conducting surveillance on the
Mercantile
. You need to be very sure, Zak, that the traffickers on board are the people we think they are. Positive IDs. Nothing less. I’ll supply you with the imagery you need. Secondly, you need to make sure the diamonds are on board. And thirdly, you need to plant an explosive device on the vessel. It will be detonated remotely when the
Mercantile
is in international waters. The loss of their diamond cargo will be a financial disaster for them. It could even put them out of business for ever.’

Zak felt himself frowning. ‘What about the
Mercantile
’s crew?’

It took Michael a few seconds to answer. ‘Black Wolf are a new organization, Zak. They only came onto MI6’s radar about two months ago. All our intelligence suggests they were responsible for an explosion in India that killed thirteen street children and wounded twenty more so badly that they won’t walk again. Three weeks ago they targeted a marketplace in northern Tunisia. Fifteen dead, including one British national. The
Mercantile
’s crew are, we believe, all members of Black Wolf. There’s not a man, woman or child in the world they wouldn’t kill if the price was right. I wouldn’t waste your sympathy on any of them, Zak. You’ll be saving more lives than you’ll be ending, in the long run.’

‘
They
blow other people up. We blow
them
up. Who’s worse? Black Wolf or us?’

‘Your attitude does you credit, Zak. It truly does. But believe this: when the enemy stops playing by the rules, sometimes we must do the same. And besides, I’m only asking you to plant the device, not detonate it.’

Zak stood up. Once more he stared out to sea. He
remembered his first op. He remembered his shock when Gabs had shot Martinez. Was Michael turning
him
into a killer? Or was he turning him into someone who stopped people killing others?

‘I don’t understand,’ he said suddenly.

‘Have I not been clear?’

‘Yeah, you’ve been clear. But why me? The whole point of having me is so that I can be inserted into places where adult agents would—’

‘– where adult agents would stand out. Quite right, Zak. Quite right. Forgive me for not explaining that earlier. The port of Lobambo is a small place. Newcomers stand out. Even if we were to send a special forces team in, it would be almost impossible for them to get close enough to the
Mercantile
to carry out surveillance without being noticed.’

‘Well, if
they
can’t get close, how can I?’

‘A volunteer group has set up camp on the outskirts of Lobambo. They’re there to help build a school with foreign aid money. As luck would have it, they’ve agreed to find space for you to join them.’

Zak gave his handler a cynical look. Luck, he knew, had nothing to do with it. Michael had ways of making things happen. Zak knew there was no point asking him how he’d set this up.

‘I’ve never been to Africa,’ he said.
But my parents have
, he thought to himself,
and they died there
.

‘I know,’ Michael said, in a tone of voice that unnerved Zak.

‘But what about Gabs and Raf? They’ll be coming with me, right? Like last time? They’ll be able to get me out if things go wrong?’

‘No,’ Michael said quietly. ‘Your Guardian Angels won’t be able to join you this time.’

‘What? Why not?’ All of a sudden Zak’s stomach was churning.

‘They have something else to do. Something rather important.’

‘But who can I call if things go wrong?’

A pause. ‘Nobody, Zak. And that means you need to be very careful. Angola is a dangerous place. Its citizens have known atrocities like you can’t imagine. There are mass graves in that country that are filled with the skeletons of women and children by the thousand. You’ll see things there that will shock you. If I understand you as well as I think I do, you’ll want to intervene. To help people. To make their lives a little bit better. You must resist that temptation.’

Zak felt a little surge of resentment. Why
shouldn’t
he use his skills to help people, if he could. Michael, he had learned, had a strange way of looking at things. ‘Either you trust me,’ he said, aware that he sounded a bit surly, ‘or you don’t.’

‘Zak!’ Michael snapped. There was a fire in his eyes.

‘I’m afraid I don’t have the leisure to indulge these childish teenage ideals. I’m sending you into an extremely dangerous environment and it’s essential that you keep a low profile. That you merge into the background and do nothing to draw attention to yourself. You’re there to carry out this op quickly and efficiently, not to right the wrongs of western Africa. Remember, Zak, Black Wolf are pros. They know what they’re doing. They’ll probably have an agent on the ground liaising with the diamond producers and scouting for suspicious activity, and it’ll probably be the last person you expect. Don’t get lazy. Because the moment you get lazy is the moment you get dead.’

Silence.

Michael’s gaze was flinty.

And then, suddenly, he appeared to relax. He took a cigarette case from his pocket, withdrew a thin black cigarillo and smiled a thin smile. ‘Would you mind terribly if I smoked?’ he asked, as mildly as if they’d just been chatting about the weather. ‘It’s a filthy habit, I know, and frowned upon at sea. But somehow I just can’t seem to stop.’

5

ANTISOCIAL BEHAVIOUR

Monday, 17.20 hrs GMT

ELLIE WAS STANDING
in the middle of her front room. It totally stank of aftershave. In the adjoining room the cuckoo clock cheeped once. Nobody paid it any attention.

Her mum and dad were next to each other on the sofa. They looked shocked. Sitting in one of the armchairs of the three-piece suite was a policeman. He had introduced himself as DI Andersen but he didn’t have a policeman’s uniform on. Just a suit. He was probably about fifty years old. The aftershave was his. It was like he’d put half a bottle on that morning. The top of his head was bald, but he’d combed a few strands over from the side, where it was longer. The comb-over was oiled down flat. It made the hair, and the top of his head, very shiny. On his lap was a clear plastic evidence bag.

And in the evidence bag, covered with dirt, was Ellie’s mobile.

Ellie’s mum broke the silence. ‘And this was found in …’ She sounded like she couldn’t bring herself to say it. ‘In Zak’s
grave
?’

‘I’m afraid so, Mrs Lewis,’ replied DI Andersen. ‘The grave was opened last night and our forensic team tell us the little finger from the right hand is missing.’ He gave Ellie a severe look. ‘I thought Ellie might like to explain how her phone ended up there.’

Ellie swallowed hard. ‘I don’t know,’ she whispered.

Her mum and dad looked at each other, but DI Andersen didn’t stop staring at Ellie. ‘Desecrating a grave,’ he said, ‘is a very serious offence. I’ve seen children sent into care for much less—’

‘I’m not a child,’ Ellie snapped.

‘Young lady,’ the policeman retorted, ‘if you weren’t a child, we wouldn’t be discussing care, we’d be discussing prison.’

‘I didn’t do anything to Zak’s grave.’ Ellie felt like crying, but she was determined not to. ‘I wouldn’t, all right? I just
wouldn’t
.’

‘I’m sure she’s telling the truth, Officer,’ her mum said. ‘She’s a very well-behaved girl. It’s true she was very attached to her cousin. I don’t know why. One doesn’t like to speak ill of the dead but he was an unremarkable child. Still, I’m sure she wouldn’t …’

DI Andersen gave her an oily smile. ‘Mrs Lewis, when you’ve been a police officer for as long as me, you soon learn that people can surprise you. Just last week I was interviewing a girl your daughter’s age. Her mother swore blind she was as good as gold. Turned out she was stealing from her purse and using the money to—’

‘
I didn’t do anything to Zak’s grave!
’

The grown-ups, clearly surprised by her sudden outburst, turned to look at Ellie as though they’d forgotten she was there.

‘There was this guy,’ she said. ‘He came up to me in Burger King and he had a picture of Zak and this, like, patch over his eye, and he wanted to know where Zak was and he was, like, really mean and he …’ Her voice trailed off. The grown-ups were looking at her as if she was mad.

DI Andersen stood up. ‘We often find, Mr and Mrs Lewis, that young people of an …’ He looked like he was searching for the right word. ‘Young people of an
antisocial
nature benefit from counselling with a—’

Ellie didn’t let him finish. She stormed right up to the policeman. ‘May I have my phone back now, please?’

The policeman looked surprised that she’d even asked. ‘Certainly not,’ he replied. ‘This is evidence from a crime scene. I won’t be charging you today,
young lady, but we certainly haven’t reached the end of this matter. Mr and Mrs Lewis, this has just been an informal chat. When we next meet, I recommend Ellie has a lawyer with her. I’ll show myself out.’ He nodded at the grown-ups, gave Ellie a thin-lipped look and left the room.

It was only when they heard the front door shut that Ellie’s father spoke. Just like him, she thought, to keep quiet in front of strangers and to give Ellie a hard time when there was just the three of them. ‘
You
are in a great deal of trouble, Ellie Lewis. Visits from the police? This is such an embarrassment. Your mother and I won’t be able to show our faces …’

Ellie didn’t stick around to hear the rest. She gave her parents a poisonous look and stormed out of the room, slamming the door hard behind her.

Jason Cole. Jay for short. Born 3 September in Kensington, London. Age: 16. Home-schooled by his father James at their house in Notting Hill. Interests include scuba diving and fishing
…

‘Fishing?’ Zak looked up from the briefing pack of the identity he was learning. It was amazing how, after months of practice memorizing things, the information planted itself immediately in his head. ‘I’ve never been fishing in my life.’ And he thought to himself:
That’s for normal people
. Sometimes he
wondered whether he’d ever be normal again.

‘Never been fishing? Sweetie, you haven’t lived!’

Four hours ago, Zak had been on
Galileo
listening to Michael give him the details of his second op. Now, he, Michael, Raf and Gabs were sitting in a large room in St Peter’s House with floor-to-ceiling windows that faced out across the windswept island towards the sea. When Zak looked through that window, the ghostly reflection had shown how pale his face still was. Nobody seemed to be making much allowance for the fact that he and Raf had almost died that morning, or that he felt as if twenty-four hours’ bed rest was more in order than anything else.