Traitor (24 page)

He couldn’t think of anything else of use to tell them and turned to the doors once again.

‘Watch out for their leader,’ a man nearby offered. ‘He’s a mean bastard.’

Stratton heard it and headed through the doors.

‘So’s he, by the look of it,’ one of the old soldiers said as Stratton left. ‘Right. Let’s get organised,’ he called out to the room.

 

Jordan stood at one end of the control room, preoccupied. Deacon sat studying him, noting that he had checked his watch half a dozen times since they had returned. The apparent arrival of persons unknown at the base of the platform had not worried their illustrious leader but it had certainly got him all agitated. Deacon wondered whether to press Jordan for an explanation.

The sound of the outer door opening focused both men’s attentions on the inner one. It had to be one of Deacon’s men. Yet all of them were currently on full alert due to the presence of the reconnaissance team below. The door opened and Banzi backed into the room, his waterproof soaked, his rifle slung over a shoulder, a pistol in his hand and aimed into the airlock. He was not alone.

Banzi urged whoever it was to come inside.

It was Binning, in assault gear minus hood, his face and hair soaking wet.

Deacon got to his feet, stupefied.

Jordan looked expectant.

‘Hi,’ Binning said, appearing relaxed and offering his usual understated smile. ‘Sorry about the intrusion. I actually found this gentleman before he found me and asked him to take me to the hijackers’ leader.’ Binning looked between the two men, wondering who that leader was.

‘He was on the machinery deck,’ Banzi offered in his stunted English.

‘Who the bloody ’ell are you?’ Deacon asked. Then, glancing at Jordan, ‘Is he one of your blokes?’

Binning had no idea what the man was talking about. ‘Name’s Binning. I’m a few days earlier than expected. Things are a little off schedule but all for the better, I’d say.’ He beamed.

Jordan had taken a good look at Binning, noting his familiar attire, harness and accessories, including the empty holster at his thigh, the gun from which was now in Banzi’s hand. ‘Who are you?’

Binning held up the plastic box that had been attached to his body since leaving the helicopter. ‘It’s why we’re all here.’

‘It was supposed to be left on the spiders where I could find it at first light,’ Jordan said.

‘Change of plan. The SB surveillance team was going to leave it for you to pick up but I had a bad feeling about our people. Time for me to get out of there. So I’ve brought it along personally. And, of course, I’m coming along with it.’

Jordan looked unsure.

‘Don’t worry, old boy,’ Binning said in response to the look. ‘I’m sure it will be approved. Give your boss a call. Tell him that Binning is moving over earlier than planned. You see, I’m almost as important as the device.’

Deacon had been staring at the scientist with his mouth slightly open, utterly lost as to what he was going on about. He glanced at Jordan, hoping that he might enlighten him about the situation.

Jordan nodded, as if he was beginning to understand. ‘I see. And that’s it?’ He was referring to the black box.

‘Yes. Let me show you. Excuse me,’ Binning said politely to Banzi as he shuffled past him.

Banzi was not sure how to take the man who had accosted him from the rainswept shadows with a polite ‘Excuse me’.

Binning cleared away the cups and paperwork from a table and placed the box on it. He unclipped the latches and opened the waterproof seams, dividing the container into two equal halves. ‘This is the G43,’ he said, indicating a robust rubber-coated electronic device.

‘The monitoring system?’ Jordan asked.

‘That’s right,’ Binning confirmed, looking between Jordan and Deacon, still unsure who was in charge. He removed the G43 from its sponge-rubber moulding, laid it down and opened a waterproof panel on its side. ‘This is the battery housing,’ he said. He took a small screwdriver from a pouch on his upper arm and used it to unclip several tiny catches inside the housing. He removed another cover and deftly pulled out what looked like a black ceramic tile. He placed it on the table with a reverent gesture. ‘This is it,’ he announced.

Jordan leaned closer to inspect the device without touching it, paying particular attention to its thin sides where there were several miniature USB-type sockets. He reached inside his pocket and took out a BlackBerry which he turned on, applying a password to start it up. He dug out a cable from the same pocket, plugged one end into the phone and the other into one of the sockets on the side of the tile. ‘You know what I’m doing?’ he asked Binning.

‘Of course. You have a piece of software in your Rim that can input and verify the modulated output.’

Jordan was lost after ‘software’ but carried on doing as he had been instructed.

‘You want to ensure it’s the real McCoy,’ Binning went on. ‘Personally, I don’t see the point. Why would I be coming along if it wasn’t?’

Jordan didn’t know or care.

‘But then, you didn’t know I was coming,’ Binning added.

Jordan knew one thing: he wished the man would shut up. He opened an encrypted file inside his phone’s download folder. It couldn’t read the file. He frowned.

Binning leaned closer to take a look. ‘If you look back inside your downloads folder I suspect you’ll find a new file. It’s the decoded data that your phone just input through the tile.’

Jordan wasn’t the most technical of people but he found the file and clicked on it. The BlackBerry’s screen lit up and a few seconds later the encrypted file opened. Jordan smiled as he looked at the screen. He showed it to Binning. The scientist grinned.

‘Can I see?’ Deacon asked, feeling left out.

Jordan showed it to him. It was a short phrase in quotation marks: ‘By Strength, By Guile.’

‘What do you think that is?’ Jordan asked Deacon.

‘It’s the poxy logo of the SBS.’

‘It’s also the proof that we have the decryption device,’ Jordan explained. ‘We need to call this in.’

Deacon was still highly confused. ‘Am I to understand that all of this, this capturing of the oil platform and everything, was for this?’ He pointed at the small black tile.

Jordan shrugged as if, amazingly, it was.

‘This is no ordinary “this”,’ Binning said.

‘What is it, then?’ Deacon’s patience was starting to wear thin.

‘It’s the vital part of the world’s fastest encryption device.’

Deacon looked at him blankly. He might as well have said it in Albanian.

Binning persevered. ‘The fastest decryption machines anywhere in the world would take between a thousand to a million years to decrypt a hundred and thirty-bit key. The different combin - ations would equal the number of grains of sand in the Sahara Desert. This is still in its development stage but when it’s complete it will have the potential to decrypt the same data in six months to a year.’

Deacon wasn’t remotely impressed. ‘Six months to a year?’

Binning decided that he was talking to an unappreciative moron. He replaced the tile inside the G43 and closed the device. ‘You’re being paid a considerable amount for your efforts, I imagine. Somewhere in the region of a million dollars, or pounds even. Well, that amount of money is a mere drop in the ocean compared to what this is worth in the right hands.’

Deacon understood that much. Still not why, though.

‘Boss,’ Banzi interrupted, talking to Deacon. ‘I was looking for Pirate when I found him.’ He indicated Binning.

‘That’s nice work,’ Deacon replied sarcastically.

‘I couldn’t find Pirate. He’s gone,’ Banzi said, making his point.

‘You can call him on the radio,’ Jordan said. ‘No one’s listening to us now.’

Deacon nodded. Banzi took a radio from his pocket and stepped away to talk into it.

Deacon still wasn’t satisfied. ‘Why go to all this trouble?’ he asked. ‘Why didn’t you just meet up in a pub somewhere and ’and it over?’

‘Where I work it’s impossible to get anything out,’ Binning explained. ‘You couldn’t get a digital watch in or out under normal circumstances. The only way it can be transferred through secur - ity is if it’s required by an outside source. Impossible with this device since it’s not complete. And once it is, it would no longer be in our hands anyway. Since it couldn’t come out on its own, a little playing around needed to be done in order to bring it out with something else. Such as the G43.’

‘Like in a Trojan ’orse,’ said Deacon in a moment of unusual intuition.

‘Worth every penny of all our wages.’ Jordan was suddenly more cheerful than he had been in a long time.

‘Boss?’ Banzi interrupted. ‘I can’t raise Pirate.’

‘Then go look for ’im,’ Deacon suggested tiredly. ‘Go on.’

Banzi held up the pistol he’d taken from Binning as if asking what he should do with it.

‘Give it back to ’im,’ Deacon said.

Banzi handed the pistol to Binning and left the control room.

‘Where’s the rest of your team?’ Jordan asked. ‘I suppose they think you fell overboard?’

‘That reminds me. We have a rather annoying SBS operative with us. He’s somewhere on these upper decks right now.’

Jordan and Deacon were both suddenly wearing similar looks of concerned curiosity.

‘Why has he come to the upper decks?’ Jordan asked, his stare boring into Binning.

‘I don’t think it’s as bad as it might sound,’ Binning said, attempting to reassure them. ‘He’s here for something specific. Give him what he wants and I’m sure he’ll go away.’

‘And what would that be?’ Deacon asked.

‘He’s looking for a man, an old friend, a worker on the platform.’

‘Who?’ Deacon asked, becoming irritated.

Binning frowned. ‘Buggered if I can remember his name. I didn’t pay much attention to it at the time. You were going to execute him along with a few others. You filmed them all . . . His first name was—’

‘Jordan?’ Deacon said, remembering very well that they’d filmed Mackay.

‘That’s it,’ the scientist said. ‘Jordan Mackay.’

Jordan clenched his jaw as he faced Deacon. ‘You stupid prick. Selecting me for the damned film shoot.’

‘I didn’t know you then, did I, you arse-wipe. Why would an SBS operative be looking for just you, anyway?’ Deacon asked angrily.

‘I can answer that,’ Binning said. ‘His name’s John Stratton and he owes this gentleman a life.’

Jordan looked up at the mention of the name. ‘Christ.’

Deacon registered his concern.

Jordan suddenly felt completely frustrated. ‘I told you about him,’ he said to Deacon.

‘Your team leader in Afghanistan? That’s brilliant,’ Deacon guffawed. ‘He’s come all the way ’ere, risking life and limb to rescue you, thinking you’re about to be executed, and all the while it’s you who’s doing the robbing.’

‘He’s dangerous,’ Jordan warned.

‘He’s one man,’ Deacon said cockily. He went over to his bag, took out a cable with a sucker on the end and stuck it to a window. ‘And ’e’s not the only dangerous one.’ He plugged his satellite phone into the other end of the cable. ‘Let’s ’ope we get a connection,’ he said, bringing up a number.

A moment later someone answered the call. ‘This is me . . . yeah, Thanatos. We’re ready to go blue . . . That’s right . . . Yes, of course we’ve got it . . . By strength, by guile,’ he said. ‘Can I confirm that the obvious is ready?’ he asked. ‘Good. See you out there.’

Deacon collapsed the phone’s antenna, unplugged the cable and put it all back in his pocket. ‘We’re good to go,’ he said, taking the explosive-charge initiator out of his bag and extending a thin aerial from it. ‘It looks like our work ’ere is done.’ He flipped open a cover and pushed a button. It began to flash red. ‘We’ve got ’alf an hour to get clear of the platform.’

Jordan could not believe his eyes and ears. ‘Tell me you haven’t done what I think you’ve just done,’ he said.

Deacon squared up to him. ‘Now it’s
your
turn to listen to
me
. My orders were to give you command until your job was done. From what I’ve seen, that just ’appened. My orders were to then get us out of ’ere. That’s what I’m doin’.’

‘I’m curious to know how,’ Binning said. ‘The entire area is surrounded by Royal Navy ships and aircraft.’

‘They must want that little tile of yours pretty bad,’ Deacon said. ‘Come on. The signal they’re waiting for is the oil platform going up. Like I said, we ’ave ’alf an hour.’

‘Going up?’ Binning said, suddenly the one who didn’t understand.

Deacon rolled his eyes. ‘Catch up, genius. What do you think this is?’ he said, holding up the initiator.

Binning’s thoughts shot to Jason and Rowena. He could only hope they would be off the platform already.

‘You bastard,’ Jordan hissed, moving towards Deacon. ‘What about the workers? Are you going to let them know before it’s too late?’

‘I’m only thinking of you, Jordan, me old mate. You see, when the rig goes up the authorities’ll think that you’re dead. They’ll never know the part you played in it. If they thought you were still alive they’d come looking for you. You wouldn’t be able to spend all that money. Bet you never thought of that, did you?’ Deacon grinned.

‘The escaping workers in the other lifeboats would add to our cover,’ Jordan said, raising his voice. ‘You need to let them go.’

‘They’ll only get in the way.’

The anger swelled in Jordan and although he was hampered by his injured leg he took a swing at the former SAS man. Deacon avoided the blow easily and countered viciously with an uppercut into Jordan’s gut. He cocked his other hand to punch him again but Binning grabbed it. The man’s vicelike grip took Deacon by surprise.

Binning smiled as he looked into Deacon’s eyes. ‘That’s enough. We need to get going.’