Deadly States (Seaforth Files by Nicholas P Clark Book 2) (22 page)

and she were on different sides, or that she should somehow be his enemy by default; it simply meant that he had to be a little careful about
what information he shared with her. There were some meetings with
certain individuals where Jack felt
obliged to
keep the
details from
her. But the fact remained, as a human being, she was someone who
Jack liked a great deal. If things had been just a little bit different then
she was someone who he would have been pleased to call a friend. For
those reasons, Jack was determined to do everything in his power to
get her back home safe and sound; and he was going to punish those
responsible for her kidnap in the way that only he could. That punishment would be messy, both in actuality and in terms
of the political
fallout that would be caused. But this was
personal, and the wrong
doers
of this country, no matter how important they were, needed to
know that Jack and those he cared for were not to be touched. It was a
defiant act that would never leave the kind
of impression that Jack
hoped for. There were simply too many wrong doers, and too many of
them were entirely ruthless and incredibly powerful.

“And what happens to me?” Barry asked. “You will forgive me if I
don’t wait for the man from the embassy to arrange a nice stay in a
South
African prison for
me. You can drop me
off somewhere in the
city and we go our separate ways.”

“You will leave me off somewhere in the city, Jack. I will not go to
prison.”
“And how long will it be before I come home to find you putting a
gun to my head again? If I let you go, I may be signing my
own death
warrant.”
Barry looked at Jack with a puzzled expression on his face.
“What in the hell are you talking about; let
me go?
Unless I’m
missing some crucial detail here it seems to me that you aren’t in any
position to let me go. I’m not yours to let go.”
To reinforce the point Barry shifted the gun that he was nursing on
his knee so that it was pointing directly at Jack. Jack’s weapon was not
on display; tucked as it was into the waistband of his trousers.
“Barry, you should know by now that I am always one step ahead
of you. Things are never quite as they seem.”

Barry said. “So stop fucking around and drop me off somewhere.”
Jack needed to know where he stood with Barry and the elation
that Barry felt at having just escaped death was not a reliable indicator
as to what he would do in the future; especially with regard to settling
the ancient score. Pushing his buttons was the quickest way to achieve
that.
“I
don’t
know what you are worried about, Barry.
After all, you
have clearance to kill
me from no less an authority than the British
government. Maybe the
man from the
embassy will
hold
me down
while you put a couple of rounds in my head?”
“You are still a very funny man, Jack. You were a funny man when
we first met, and you have not lost your touch after all these years. But
do you want to know something really funny, Jack? Something that
will really tickle your ribs?”
There was a pause. Barry was going to wait for Jack to ask, and the
longer he waited before asking, the more power Barry took back.
“Go on then,” Jack said, in a tone of voice that someone might use
with a persistent child.
“I was gonna kill you; and I still might. I haven’t quite made up my
mind on that
one. But that isn’t the really funny thing. No, the really
funny thing is that what I told you back at your house was the truth.”
Another pause.
“About what?” Jack demanded, with growing impatience.
“When I said that I had been given the all-clear to take you out,
and that your government were OK with that. It was all true. Every
last word of it was the god’s honest truth.”
Jack smiled.
“For god’s sake Barry. Is that really the best that you can do?” “You
don’t have to believe me, and quite frankly I couldn’t give a
shit if you
don’t believe me. But there is someone high up in your
organisation who doesn’t give a fuck if you live or die.
And given the
cold way in which they handed your life over to me without so much
as an argument, tells me that whoever that person is, they would rather that you were dead. I get the feeling that I was only a convenient

excuse for them to have you bumped off.”
Another short, yet much tenser, pause.
“So Jack, how long do you think that it will take that person to find

someone else to step up to the plate and put a bullet in your head?”
Jack looked round at Barry.
“OK Barry, if what you are saying is true, then answer me this.”
“What?”
“Who is this person who wants to have me killed? How
did you

meet him? Who introduced you?”
Barry smiled.
“Jack, in the last few years, because of the peace talks, I have met

with more high ranking spooks than you have met in your entire career.
And here’s the news flash that you have been waiting for; not all
of them are as impressed by you as you are. When I
mentioned that
certain loose ends needed to be tied up during a round table discussion
with
members
of the British and Irish governments the
politicians
nearly shit themselves. Your friend however remained very
quiet. He
took me into a room after the meeting and he asked me to write the
names of those loose ends that needed to be tied up. There were nearly
thirty names
on that list. He took the list from me and he started to
cross
out
names. He simply
said no,
each time that
he put
his
pen
through a name. He never said why; he simply said no. Your name was
on that list. He could have crossed it out and that would have been an
end to the matter. But he didn’t Jack. He handed you over like he was
handing over a diseased dog for shooting. He told me that I had three
months to do what I had to do, and that after that I had to stop,
or I
would be stopped.”

Nothing more was said for a few miles.
“It is
certainly a
nice story
Barry,
but I
can’t accept that. Not
based on some chance encounter with a shadowy, nameless spy with
a grudge against me. It simply makes no sense. I have always worked
on my
own out in the field. I have no ambitions as far as promotions
are concerned. Why in the hell would someone want to kill me? And if
someone in British intelligence wanted me dead, why would they ask
an Irish Republican to
do it?
And in the
middle
of
sensitive negotiations? I’m sorry Barry, but that is simply too incredible to believe.”
As Jack finished rubbishing Barry’s claims a terrible thought
occurred to him; this was just the kind
of thing his spy friends would
do. Not only that, but the more that he thought about what Barry told
him the more that it sounded like the truth. If the talks
didn’t go the
way the Republicans wanted and they leaked the existence of a British
sanctioned
death list, who in their right
mind would
believe them?
Even the paranoid Unionists would have a hard time swallowing that
particular story.
Barry reached into his jacket pocket and he produced a packet
of
cigarettes. He opened the packet and offered one to Jack. With a quick
shake of the head Jack rebuffed the offer. Barry popped a cigarette into
his
mouth and he lit it. He took a long, satisfying
draw, like a
man
who had just had the best sex of his life. Jack was rattled and Barry was
orgasmic about that.
“So Jack, back to our current dilemma. I want to be dropped off in
the city somewhere that you and your friends, if you have any in the
entire British establishment,
can’t get to me easily. You know, at least
give me a fighting chance. For old time’s sake.”
“If I was going to do anything for
old time’s sake then I would
finish what I
started back
on that
container ship. In fact, I will
do
something for you, for old time’s sake.”
“Oh yeah? And what might that be?”
“I will give you a choice. You can either go with me to be debriefed
by my government, or I can drive down some dark street in one of the
townships and drop you off.”
“Huh, I have been down many dark streets in my time Jack. There
is nowhere in this country that you could drop me off where I wouldn’t
feel safe,” Barry added, dismissively.
“When I start blowing the horn and yelling that you are the man
who put Mandela in prison, then you might wish that you were standing on one of those other dark streets.”
Barry smiled. It was a defeated smile.
“OK Jack, I can see that we are never going to see eye to eye on
this
one. Neither
one
of us is going to willingly give in to the other’s
demands. Agreed?”
Jack nodded his head in agreement.
“So we both know how this is going to end,” Barry continued. “I
am going to put this gun to your head and demand that you stop. You
will stop, but it will not
be somewhere clever. Some passing motorist
will spot what is going
on and the next thing you know
every cop in
the city will be closing in
on us.
And you know as well as I
do that
they will be closing in for the kill. Is that really how you want this to
play out?”
“Of course it isn’t how I want this to play out Barry. But if you give
me no other choice then what other option do you leave me with? But
there is
one thing that I know you will do for me.
And you will do it
without kicking up a fuss.”
“That isn’t likely, but I am listening.”
“You are going to open the window before I choke to death on that
fag smoke.”
“For god’s sake Jack, it isn’t that long ago that you smoked. Nothing worse than a poacher turned gamekeeper.”
“And I loved to smoke,
but the fags here are deadly. Even the familiar brands. There’s something about them that goes for my throat. I
just can’t have them.”
Barry grinned as he looked at his cigarette.
“That’s true. But you get used to them, after a while.”
“I’ll take your word for that. Now, are you going to open the window or am I going to have to shoot it out?”
Jack slipped a hand into his inside jacket pocket as if reaching for
his gun. Barry shook his head and then he turned away from Jack to
press the button on his door to lower the window.
“Are you happy now?” Barry asked, as he turned back to face Jack.
Jack slipped a canister of gas out of his jacket pocket while Barry was
sorting
out the window—this was the surprise that he had arranged back at his house when they were picking their weapons. The
safety pin he pulled out with his teeth, effortlessly. Barry’s face hardly
had time to register the horror that he felt on seeing the gas canister
being shoved in his face, before Jack depressed the button and surrounded Barry’s head in a small cloud of choking gas. Barry instantly
lost consciousness. He slumped forwards in his seat and Jack expertly
threw the gas canister, still hissing out fumes, out through the open