The Watchman (9 page)

‘Bless you.'

‘Thank you. I've spent my life working in intelligence gathering – mostly as a field controller, running operations. Now I've shown you mine, it's your turn.'

He was either the best fantasist I'd ever met, and a hell of a good liar, or he was telling the truth. It presented me with a dilemma. I could stand up and walk out of here and probably never see him again. Or I could find out more.

I hate mysteries.

‘You've got my name, my address. The rest is simple: I'm a shadow. I run security, evaluate risks and where needed, provide hard cover in potentially hostile situations.'

‘Hard cover. Like Bogotá.'

‘That was unplanned. But like that.'

‘Up close?'

‘Not always. Some situations don't allow it. I prefer to work at a distance.' His expression told me he knew what I was saying. Staying back, I get to see more of what's going on around a target. It's easier to intervene that way. Sneaky, too.

‘Anywhere?'

‘I travel wherever a client needs me and I rarely stay anywhere for long, unless it's to recover from a hot situation, which happens from time to time. Actors call it “resting”.'

‘So you're a kind of watchman. With attitude.'

‘Yes.'

He gave a hint of a smile. ‘Was that what you were doing down in Tijuana?'

F
orget about Vale being a fantasist; he knew too much. ‘How do you know about Tijuana?'

‘I lied a moment ago. Occupational hazard, I'm afraid. James Beckwith told us as much as he could without betraying state or departmental secrets.'

‘Us? You mean Mr Black?' The guy with sunburn in the SUV.

‘Yes, I'm sorry about that. He's an analyst from our Washington office. He was the nearest man I could use in a hurry.'

I let it go. Vale was merely doing his job.

‘Beckwith was very unhappy,' he continued in a chatty manner, ‘about the Tijuana situation.'

‘Professional embarrassment,' I said. ‘One of his men went rogue.'

‘That explains it. He was impressed with you, however; said you did an excellent job.'

‘I try to please.' Beckwith hadn't said anything to me at the time, but he'd pounced on the telephone directory readily enough. I was guessing the late Senor Achevar had found a simple way of passing along information if anything were to happen to him. If you want to highlight names and phone numbers, what better way than to place discreet dots against each one in a telephone directory?

‘He mentioned some collateral damage. A certain Mexican group isn't too happy about the results, apparently. They lost an employee and a number of others are now under surveillance.'

‘Yes.'

He chewed that over for a moment, then asked, ‘What's your current situation? Are you under contract?'

‘Not right this minute.' I was between jobs. It got that way sometimes.

‘Good. Are there any places you won't work?'

‘Not many.' This was beginning to feel like an interview. ‘Do I need to write out a resumé?'

‘No. I think I have all the information I need.'

‘Who else spoke about me?' I wasn't too bothered, but in my business, loose talk can definitely cost lives.

‘I'm not at liberty to mention any names. But they both gave you a clean bill of health.'

They. ‘Government agencies?'

He smiled. ‘All good people, I promise.'

I had to be satisfied with that. ‘So what are you looking for?'

‘Earlier, you called yourself a shadow. That's exactly what I need. A shadow. Someone adept at staying in the background.'

‘Go on.'

‘I need you to accompany two of our people on an assignment.'

‘Our people?'

‘I'll come to that later. I need your agreement first.'

He was being very cautious. ‘Is this in hostile territory?'

‘Very.'

‘Where?'

‘I'll come to that, too. Hopefully, it won't come to anything, but I need you to make sure nothing impacts on our people.'

Impact. A word used often in my business, and rarely with pleasant consequences.

‘Don't you Brits have specialists for that kind of operation – the Increment or whatever you currently call them?' Most governments have specialist teams for delicate operations. Some are part of the military but not always current serving personnel. The US Navy Special Warfare Development Group (DEVGRU) Seal Team Six is regarded as the elite of the elite, along with the CIA's Special Activities Division. I wasn't sure about the British SIS, or if the Increment had been overtaken by a new designation, but I knew they had one.

‘This is not something any of our in-house people could deal with without attracting attention.'

I was intrigued. Vale had already convinced me that he worked for British Intelligence, which implied that he had access to plenty of resources and personnel. Yet here he was looking for an outsider.

‘So if anybody goes down, there's no rescue plan.'

‘I'm afraid not.'

‘Is this deniable?' Deniable meant that if an operative's cover was blown or they got into a bind while on a mission, he or she was on their own. It usually applied where the fall-out from any government launching something on foreign soil would be too loud and messy, such as covert assignments involving spies or black ops teams.

‘Our two people will have official status, that's to say, Foreign Office personnel engaged on a mercy mission. But you won't. For various reasons, I need someone so far past deniable they don't even exist.' He stared hard at me with eyes that were beyond cold. ‘That means nobody – not even the two individuals involved, unless absolutely unavoidable – must get a sniff that you're out there.'

This sounded deeply personal to Vale and I wondered why. If what he had told me was true, he was an SIS official, aware of, or compliant with, a major operation being undertaken on foreign soil, involving the insertion of personnel. Yet he was running his own side operation off the books, with no traces, no footprints, nothing.

It was a dangerous thing to be doing. So why?

He read my mind. ‘I want to protect one of the officers involved but I can't do it officially.'

‘Is it illegal?'

‘Not the official assignment, no. That has full sanction at the highest level. But I believe it's risky for the potential return. What I'm planning is probably illegal – although I haven't run it past any of our legal experts. I doubt they would approve.'

‘I see. What happens if your colleagues find out what you're doing?'

‘I would lose my job and in all likelihood serve a prison term.' He looked as pragmatic as he sounded. He'd weighed up his chances and decided to go ahead.

‘Is this a UK-only thing?'

‘CIA has been briefed on the main operation, but they can't be seen to help. No US citizens are involved. Only one of their officers knows about this, though, although not the full detail. He was one of the people who advised me on your background.'

CIA. I always get nervous around them. Some are very good people, but they use a lot of contractors like me, many of whom are former insiders who decided to go freelance. Given time and certain incentives, some of them have been known to go a little off the reservation when it comes to loyalties.

‘Which one?'

‘Scheider. He's their London Deputy Station Chief.'

Never heard of him. ‘OK. What's so special about your officer that he needs my help? I take it it's personal?'

Vale pushed his coffee away. ‘It's not a he, but a she.' He cleared his throat. ‘I've made many decisions in the past, Mr Portman, that have involved dangers for field operatives. But I never sent an officer or an asset out that I didn't consider up to the situation. In my opinion this operation is all wrong. It's predicated solely on success and the career ripples for the man running it, without thought for the personnel. I can't put my finger on it, but something about it doesn't feel right.'

‘And the field operative?'

‘They'll be throwing her away and there's not a thing I can do to stop it.' He blinked. ‘Officially, at least.'

T
he place got busier with the noon crowd, so we walked, taking the quieter streets. It would have been easier to be somewhere inside, but Vale confessed to being a spook of the old school and liked being in the open.

By the time he got through explaining the background, we'd reached the edge of Central Park and I had a fair measure of what it involved. It was the same with military commanders sending out men into the field: some were good to go, others less so. But there were times when you had to use what you had … or stand back and watch events unfold. For Vale, this was one of those times. He had no direct responsibility or right of veto over the officer involved, but he wanted to give her a little background ‘assist'.

Which was where I came in.

‘Why me?' I said, as we crossed a wide expanse of grass.

‘You have the right skills.'

‘But you don't know me.'

‘True. But I know men like you. I've been working with them all my life.' He stopped. ‘Why did you help Nate? You didn't have to.'

I wasn't sure how to answer that one.

‘I walked into it. I couldn't back away.'

‘Balls. I know your type: you never leave a hotel room in a hot zone without checking the corridors first; you never go to bed without having an escape route and you always have access to a spare set of documents, cash or credit to get you out of a jam. Same with walking in the street; you check and double-check. You've been doing it ever since I first spotted you. It's standard operational procedure. In Bogotá you saw what was happening and still you went out and did what you deemed necessary.'

I shrugged. He seemed to have all the answers.

‘You saw a situation,' he continued, ‘and took decisive action. You weighed up your chances and made it happen.' He grunted. ‘Years ago, I'd like to think I would have done the same. But I know I wouldn't – not every time. It's why I'm still around.'

‘You think I've got a death wish?'

‘God, no. Suicide jockeys are no good to me; I need a survivor.' He resumed walking. ‘You might have a host of inner demons for all I know, but I doubt suicide is one of them. You're too motivated. What happened – did you lose someone?'

I didn't want to answer that. But Vale was perceptive. A light was gleaming in his eyes; he'd seen something in my face.

‘I'm right. Who was it – a loved one? A colleague?'

He could ask all day; I wasn't going to tell him.

‘A principal, then. Somebody you were charged with protecting.' He pursed his lips and leaned across the table. ‘My advice? Get it out; talk about it. If you don't, it'll eat you up from inside. I've seen it happen.'

‘Speaking from experience?' It was rude, but he was pushing too hard. Some things are simply not up for discussion.

It was his turn to shrug. ‘Very well. Let's leave it.'

‘Why are you,' I asked, to change the conversation, ‘so against this operation?'

‘Simple. Moresby – the man running it. He's going blindly into this without questioning exactly why the other side is so keen to make the contact. It can't be for money – they're getting plenty of that elsewhere.'

‘But?'

‘They're up to something and I wish I knew what it was.'

‘All right,' I said eventually. He still hadn't told me precisely where this was happening, but I was intrigued. I knew there would come a point where he would be unable to say more, where the information would become too sensitive unless I was all the way in. For now, though, it was enough.

‘You're in?'

‘Almost. What if I get knocked over by a bus?'

‘You'll be a statistic.' His voice was matter of fact. ‘An unidentifiable casualty of poor road conditions. The one thing I won't do is come to get you.'

‘Fair enough.'

He looked keenly at me and we stopped walking. ‘What does that mean?'

‘I said fair enough. I already work that way; I rely on nobody to pick my face off the floor. Same with exit routes, safe houses and transport.'

‘Supplies?'

‘Weapons, clothes, documents – anything within reason – I get my own. But I will need money.' It was simpler that way; I didn't have to rely on official channels or supply lines for equipment, and had greater control over any footprints I left behind. And I trusted most of the suppliers I'd been using more than any faceless government department.

‘As you wish. The money I can get you, fed through an untraceable offshore fund. Draw it as you see fit.'

‘How long do I have before kick-off?'

‘Five days. The project's got the green light and the two people are getting in place right now. You'll need to move quickly.'

‘OK. Where does all this happen?'

‘Precisely? We're not sure yet. But the first jumping-off point we've been given is Nairobi. Our people are to arrive there and will be met and taken to the RV. Our analysts believe the best place for any meeting will be on the coast near the Kenya-Somalia border.'

‘Does this operation involve pirates?'

He looked surprised. But it didn't take rocket science; there was very little in that area of Africa other than Somali pirates and some extremist groups and militias. Oh, and al-Qaeda.

‘Pirates are involved, yes. But there are others with wider interests. You've heard of al-Shabaab?'

‘Of course.' Al Shabaab was an extremist group with links to al-Qaeda, currently said to control large parts of southern Somalia and even into the capital, Mogadishu. They had been pushed back in recent years by the concerted efforts of the Somali Transitional Government assisted by other African forces, but were still a problem, using bombs and bullets to make their point.