Out of the Shadows (Akira and Deane Thriller Series Book 1) (10 page)

Deane was alone
in his cream Land Rover. He pulled the vehicle over to one side,
parking just before the market place of Muscat. Turning the engine
off, he glanced in all the mirrors and gave a long studious look
all around his position. Information was everything to Thomas
Deane. The more he collated at any given point, the longer he would
live. A mental picture was forming in his mind as his eyes took
everything on board.

A light grey
Fiat saloon, registration F1J 8FY that passed him; The young woman
who was waiting behind one of the market stalls; A market trader
who had only just taken his eyes off the Land Rover. All of it was
consumed and remembered, stored away in the far corners of Deane’s
mind, never knowing when he might need to retrieve it.

At the same
time, Deane considered the future. The operation ahead would prove
challenging but he felt confident that with Sam’s help they would
make sure of the Royals’ safety. As he thought of Olsen, he
wondered what had been going on in London during the last few days.
Deane had been expecting a phone call or early visit from Olsen,
demanding answers as to why the facts surrounding the death of
Geoff Olsen didn’t match what he was told.
Maybe Sam chose not to read the operation folder of ESPY? He
didn’t return my message after all.
Operation ESPY brought back many painful memories, none of
which he wanted to recall. He made a note to himself not to discuss
the past and focus on the future.
A future
alone?
MI6’s decision to break up their
partnership had come as a surprise. Regardless of the news, Deane
felt confident he could convince Olsen and MI6 that it would be
better for everyone to continue as they had done for the past eight
years and work together. Getting out of the car, Deane made his way
along the pavement and entered the back door of the antique shop.
As he arrived at the door, he gave his usual three knocks and
waited for his contact to arrive.

Saheed felt the
icy stare of Jozef, who was inside the store and heavily disguised.
He answered the back door and gave a hug to his long-time friend.
‘It is good to see you, Thomas.’

Deane gave a
rare smile and felt genuine affection for his contact and friend,
who had risked his life many times over the years. ‘It’s been too
long, Saheed. Are you well?’

Saheed was well
aware of Deane’s perceptive qualities and was doing all he could to
act as naturally as possible. He was certain his friend could
handle the intruder in his shop but how quickly it could be done
was in doubt. Could the man fire off enough shots to harm or even
kill his family? Saheed had made his decision and prayed he would
have a chance to make up for his betrayal in the future. ‘I am well
my friend and as ever, I am at your service.’

Deane stepped
into the shop but didn’t catch sight of Jozef Kiprich, who was
waiting down one of the isles for any sign of trouble. ‘I’m always
grateful for your help, Saheed, I hope you know that. I need to
call on your local knowledge once again.’

Saheed was sure
the intruder was listening and decided to play along a little
longer before following orders. ‘What do you need,
Thomas?’

Deane gave a
quick look around his surroundings before continuing in a slightly
quieter tone. ‘A member of the British Royal family is coming here
to Muscat on a three day visit. I’m convinced there will be some
form of attack in the pipeline, or some threat that will surface.
I’m doing all I can but as I’ve always said, you can’t put a price
on local knowledge. I need your help.’

Saheed so
wanted to help his friend. Deane had proved himself to be the
bravest man he had ever known; more than anything he wanted to give
detailed descriptions of the three men that had broken into his
shop just a day ago. By doing that, thousands of lives could
possibly be saved. Saheed knew if he were single and could take the
risk on his own, he would tell his friend the truth at that very
moment with no fear of the consequences. If only it were possible.
He hated himself for what he was about to do. ‘I am sorry, my
friend but I have nothing for you. Perhaps what we have always
hoped for is finally coming true; peace in our time.’

Deane smiled at
the sentiment but didn’t believe it was happening. ‘No shipments
arriving at the harbour or any new faces your contacts have
seen?’

‘I am sorry, I
have heard of nothing.’

Deane studied the features of
his friend and for a moment saw something that caught his attention
but then it was gone. A pause lingered between them until he moved
back to the doorway. ‘If you hear anything, no matter how small,
promise me you will get in touch?’

Saheed smiled back. ‘I give you
my word.’ He outstretched his right hand. ‘Take care Thomas. Stay
safe.’

Deane gripped
his friend’s hand firmly and left via the backdoor, turning his
mind over and over as to where the next lead would come
from.

Saheed watched
him leave and wondered if he would ever see Deane again. He saw the
intruder appear in one of the isles. ‘I have done what you wanted.
Now, leave my shop.’

Jozef had spent
the last few minutes ready to attack with his gun, never having
been convinced that the shopkeeper would keep his side of the deal.
Glancing out of the shop window, he saw the MI6 agent drive away in
his Land Rover. Flicking the switch on a device attached to his
belt, Jozef walked into the backroom with Saheed in tow.

Several minutes
later, Akira stepped in quietly and waited at the doorway. ‘I know
you are a loyal man, Saheed and I thank you for what you have just
done, it can’t have been easy.’

Saheed picked up on the genuine
gratitude he could hear in the visitor’s tone and gave a look of
total defiance. ‘You have what you want, now get out!’

Akira admired
the man’s bravery but had made it a personal rule that anyone who
had seen his face would be killed once they had fulfilled their
task. Over time, he had lost count of how many people that was but
knew his actions had been warranted and, more importantly, Madeline
had backed every single decision. Without a doubt, there could be
no trace of Saheed or any of his family or contacts. With
lightening speed, he flashed a silenced pistol out of his cloak and
fired two precise shots. Gritting his teeth together, he looked at
Jozef with the cold look of death. ‘Deal with the rest and meet me
back at the designated point.’ He dismantled the gun as he
continued. ‘These people have left Oman to join their relatives in
the United Arab Emirates, make sure all the loose ends are tied
up.’

‘And what of the family in the
United Arab Emirates?’ Jozef asked.

Akira opened
the back door. ‘They too have been dealt with.’ He gave a look back
to his follower. ‘Do not fail me.’ Closing the door behind him, he
adjusted his robe and made his way along the pavement, leaving the
peaceful beauty of Muscat market behind him. In time, his actions
would be discovered but as ever there would be nothing to trace
back to his identity.

Olsen showed
his boarding pass to the young, attractive air stewardess who
smiled radiantly as she pointed out the direction of his seat.
Passing several other passengers, including an arguing couple, he
took his seat in business class. He felt a nervous wreck and
nothing seemed to help him relax. Only Rachel had been able to help
a little and, he didn’t mind admitting, he missed her badly now.
But Oman was something he had to face alone.

Before leaving
MI6 the previous day, he had picked up his weapon of choice, a
silver and black Beretta 92G Elite II 9mm pistol. All S.U.C.O.
agents had their own personal weapon of choice. Olsen had always
favoured his Beretta and had used it for almost his entire career.
With a larger magazine (15 shots instead of the usual 12) and low
recoil it had always proven far more effective.
No doubt Deane will disagree as usual
he thought to himself. Olsen looked out of the window and then
to the ticket he held in his hand. A rush of fear and panic came
over him as he saw the word Oman in the right hand corner. Once
again, memories and images of his father threatened to consume him
but he resisted, shut his eyes and tried to maintain
control.

As the plane
began to move off, he brought a dog-eared Arabic phrase book out of
his hand luggage. Olsen remembered the last time it had been used
on assignment. Eight years earlier, he was just a boy, a keen
bright 20-year-old working with Deane for the first time. The duo
had played a vital role in the years after the Gulf War, providing
MI6 and the coalition forces crucial information as to where enemy
troops had been hiding, plus the locations of several weapon bases.
Olsen remembered the sheer weight of fear he had endured on a daily
basis. It had been his first operation for the service, his first
operation with Deane and the first time he had worked in a foreign
country undercover. A smile spread over his features as he recalled
his mistakes and Deane’s harsh words. Olsen had hundreds of
memories of when Deane had not only saved his life but also shown
him the way; taught him how to be a Government agent that could
make a difference and live to tell the tale. Olsen opened the
phrase book at a particular chapter. As he began to read, his mind
focussed on visiting Al-Mina Street, where his father had died
years before. At the same time, he struggled to think of what he
would say to Deane when he saw him again.

Burton walked
into the Moon and Shine pub, located in the Vauxhall area, not far
from MI6 headquarters. A haze of cigarette smoke cleared slightly
as a breath of fresh air swept in with the Government agent. He
passed several older looking men who were already downing the first
of no doubt many drinks that day. As Burton passed the bar, he
glanced at the manager who gave him a scathing look. At the far
end, his contact could be seen sitting against the wall. He rushed
over to him. ‘Morning, Harry. Cheers for meeting me on such short
notice, mate.’

The older
individual, in his mid-fifties, was wearing a tatty looking black
leather jacket. A cigarette hung out of his mouth and his greying
hair looked dishevelled. He eyed up his friend, who sat in front of
him, with a surprising look. ‘Jesus, Hal, you look like
shit.’

Burton gave a
faint smile. ‘Cheers. To tell you the truth that’s exactly how I
feel. Look, I’m gonna need your help, ok?’

‘My help? I’m
not in the business of offering marital support, mate. You can look
elsewhere for that.’ Harry picked up his mobile phone and
cigarettes off the table as he started to leave.

Burton placed a
hand on Harry’s arm. ‘Wait a second, Harry. Look, I know what you
do, ok? I know the dodgy deals you pull off and the information you
sometimes sell to certain people.’ Both men locked eyes as the
elder sat back down. ‘Let’s understand each other. This is a one
off, you got that? What I’m about to do will never happen again.
I’m in a spot of trouble and down to my last option
here.’

‘Would you get to the point?
Jesus, my kid can talk faster than you. What you babbling
about?’

Burton gave a shake of the
head, his conscience still struggling to justify his course of
action. ‘You know the Royal visit? The one to Oman?’

‘Yeah, it’s in all the papers.
How could I miss it?’

‘Well, I have
the schedule of that three day visit. All the locations they’ll be
visiting, all the times and allocations of all security personnel.’
He placed a folder on the greasy looking surface of the bar table.
‘The whole lot.’

‘Are you
telling me you want to sell that information to the highest bidder?
Are you nuts?’ Harry said, wide-eyed.

‘Mate…I’m desperate that’s
all.’

‘Listen, Hal, I
know I take the mickey out of you most of the time but what I’ve
always admired about you is your dedication to your work. I know
what you do for a job, I always have. I’d hate to see a mate throw
away his career on one stupid mistake, you know?’

Burton frowned.
‘Yeah, I appreciate the career advice, Harry; in future I’ll go to
the boss for it. Now, you going to help me or not?’

Harry doused his cigarette in
the ashtray and leant back against the wall. ‘Why are you doing
this? C’mon, tell me the latest.’

‘I’m broke, ok?
I’ve got nothing; no money, tons of bills and most of them red
ones. The house could be taken away from me, and the car.
Everything! You know what really gets to me? My work. I’ve put in
thirty years practically and when the chips are down, they hardly
even move. I’m on my own here, as much as I don’t want to do this
but I’m out of time. I’ve tried everything else.’ Burton got up and
walked a couple of steps to the bar.

‘What about the missus?’

Burton returned
with several drinks and downed the first. ‘Why do you think I’m
doing this? To buy myself new shirts for work? My wife knows about
the financial stuff.’ He downed another drink and stared at the
empty glass, feeling like he could drink another thousand. ‘I think
I might lose her unless I get back on the straight and narrow
like…today, you know?’ A long, desperate sounding sigh came from
him. ‘Will you help me?’

‘Are you sure
about this, mate? You go down this road and you open yourself up to
all sorts of trouble. I can sell the info to the highest bidder, no
problem, but there may be…comebacks.’