To Kill a Grey Man (2 page)

The Grey man had asked, “How do you kill a man hiding in a crowd?”

“Easy,” the Assassin had replied.
 
“Kill the crowd.”

The Assassin turned and walked into the right hand waiting
lift.
 
The Grey Man sent it to the garage
level.
 
With the guns now concealed under
the raincoat, he walked past
Filippo’s
waiting
limousines to the Fiat and drove out into the waiting sunshine.
 
Time taken in all - under
three minutes from when the hit started.

After five miles he pulled over by the side of a quiet back road and
got into
a waiting
silver Audi A8 only taking his
original suitcase.
 
He left the holster,
guns, earpiece, raincoat and the
holdall
in the boot
of the Fiat, to be picked up and disposed of by The Firm later.

In the glove compartment he found airline tickets in the name of
Fowler for later that afternoon out of Florence airport, some one hour’s drive
away.
 
He drove carefully enjoying the
sunshine and the beautiful Italian scenery allowing the adrenalin to ease from
his body.
 
He had felt truly alive during
the hit but now as it was over he wondered again what to do next.
 
He was sixty five years old and realistically
knew he could not go back to an active assassin’s life no matter how much he
wanted to plus he had Jonathan to consider.
 
Life was not sweet but he had decided to live it.

Chapter 3

The Firm

‘The Firm’
can get you anything you want for a price, from robbing a bank, to obtaining
false passports to murder, even bringing down a small country if you so wish.
 
To own The Firm not only takes you to the top
table in espionage, it makes you the king.

It is so
secret that only a select few know of its existence.
 
Even the name ‘The Firm’ is a misnomer.
 
There is no one company but a myriad of
companies all loosely joined together.

How did it
come about?
 
In the late 1960s with the
Cold War at its height, spying was a big industry employing tens of thousands
of people.
 
Very few were in the front
line, the bulk being the quiet individuals who lived ordinary lives both in the
UK and abroad who, when called for, would supply certain services - cars in
Berlin, safe houses in Manchester, documents of all types - whatever was needed
to support the front line operative.

The cost of
the infrastructure of the UK intelligence departments alone was incredible.
 
For example, paying someone to live in France
and adopt a low profile existence, who was possibly only called on for services
twice a year was unbelievably expensive and inefficient.
 
By the early 1970s the financial strain on
the Service was destroying it.
 
With
three day weeks and huge unemployment throughout the country there was not the
money to run an effective Secret Service and the department came close to
closing down.

The Grey Man
and others, including Collins,
The
Assassin, came up
with a solution.
 
Why not outsource all
this infrastructure, set up the current background security operatives in
legitimate business, then when needed the security services would pay for the
“special” service.
 
The rest of the time
there would be no cost to the government.
 
It was a godsend.
 
Small
investments were made to a large number of staff along with, where possible, government
contracts to help them grow.
 
This
created a number of entrepreneurs who had a chance to earn some good, legitimate
money in whatever firm they set up and charge exorbitantly for “special”
services as needed.
 
Most of these had
some operational experience and had been hired for their resourcefulness.
 
They took to business like ducks to water
with a nice, financial side line in security supply, all covered by the
 
Official Secrets Act, each licensed by the
government and some with European licenses.
 
As the UK joined the European Union the whole scheme was expanded
throughout friendly EU governments.

The rules
were simple - no deals with foreign governments who were not in the scheme, no
dealings with terrorists or organized crime.
 
Any lack of discretion would lead to expulsion, imprisonment or death.

The Grey Man
had worked on the security aspects, constantly refining and improving them,
keeping The Firm and everyone in it secret, creating distance and firewalls
between suppliers and customers.
 
The
latest incarnation involved the internet and everything now was processed
on-line.

The Firm was
set up for government use but such was the shady world it dealt with, there
were also private special customers who were semi-official, essentially acting
on their own and could be disowned.
 
New
laws forcing governments to be more open with the
public,
caused more so called ‘private clients’ to be set up.

To be a
private client of The Firm, operating within the charter, but maybe to the left
or right of various official government
policy
, you
needed to deposit a minimum of £1 million in a Swiss bank account.
 
This allowed you access to all services after
extensive checks on your bona fides.
 
Dropping below the £1 million meant expulsion, possibly never to
return.
 
Most of these “specials,” had
tens of millions of pounds on deposit and conducted significant operations
utilizing the select services of The Firm.

All
documents were legitimate but on a strict time limit, utilizing a back door
system from security printers who would overrun specific base documents, the
details filled in on-line, so paper and hard security devices were all legit
and very useful.
 
There was even a
program that allowed a backdated register on official data bases if the
document had to come from government sources.
 
If anyone checked, these documents were real.
 
The back dates would expire after set dates
to ensure no traceability.

To contact The
Firm was simple.
 
Initial contact was
through an encrypted web page with the encryption constantly changing.
 
The customer had to use a special laptop
which was synchronized with
The Firm and controlled by The
Grey Man.

The customer
typed in their needs and the request was given a code number which was bounced
round a number of hubs before arriving at the controller’s desk who checked the
security system to ensure everything was correct.
 
However, he would not know the name or
address of the customer, just the number and the fact they were kosher.
 
The customer did not know the controller, ensuring
absolute anonymity.
 
They could be the
government of any EU country or an individual.

The
controller read the request and then looked for companies in the area that
could supply the specific needs.
 
These
were numbered again so he had no idea who he/she was dealing
with,
just that they offered the service required and were approved. He/she then
contacted the company through an encrypted email server, set up the service
that had been requested by the customer and then sent them whatever they needed,
telephone numbers, addresses of safe houses, front and fall back places, etc.
 
Now dealing directly with the controller but
through many firewalls, the customer on a specific operation could ask for
anything.

It was an
incredible system.
 
Almost
foolproof.
 
There had been some
problems in the early days but no more than the system that had been run by the
government.
 
The main issue facing The
Firm today was that the original founders were getting old and finding
replacements with the same skills was becoming hard.
 
The Grey Man and Collins were very active in
training and lecturing.

The Grey Man’s
biggest problem was his success.
 
He knew
too much and was a potential security risk and for the past fifteen years had
been hunted for his knowledge.
 
But the
rewards for him had been immense.

The power of
The Firm had become almost immeasurable.
 
If anyone had complete control there was virtually nothing they could
not do.
 
The Grey Man, realizing this,
had set up early on, a power sharing scheme across all the main governmental
players.
 
The details of any major
operations were sent to everyone thus ensuring that The Firm could not be used
internally for any one country’s benefit and there was a series of controls and
measures to limit the excesses of any one member. So whilst terrorists and
criminals could be targeted, anyone trying to expand their government
territories by spying on another friendly government could be bought to task.

This
situation had worked well and The Grey Man acted as chief moderator, being the
only human who knew the extent of The Firm’s reach.
 
A few heads of security services had attempted
to push the limits and The Grey Man had been ruthless in stopping any rule
breaking and bringing the attention of the culprit to the rest of the
committee.

However,
this did not make The Grey Man popular and he had been hunted over the years by
various fractions because
he
who had The Grey Man, had
The Firm.

Chapter 4

Life Goes On

Sir Thomas Robertson was a tall, fit, good looking man approaching
his sixtieth birthday.
 
He had been head
of the British Secret Service for nearly five years and was universally known
inside the organization as ‘C’.
 
Outwardly
a calm pleasant man, he secretly craved power and was determined to ensure the
British Secret Service regained its rightful place as the leader of covert
intelligence gathering and clandestine operations around the world.
 
He had a plan on how this was to be achieved
but it had one large stumbling block, the shadowy figure known as The Grey
Man.
 
You see, Sir Thomas Robertson
wanted the power of The Firm to be under his private control.

Sir Thomas knew that The Grey Man was always watching to ensure none
of the principle government organizations in Europe overstepped the mark and so
he had been very careful with all his dealings with The Firm, biding his time,
gathering information piece by piece and trying as hard as he could to keep
tabs on The Grey Man.
 
Nominally The Grey
Man worked for the British Secret Service but somehow he was part of it and above
it.
 
Sir Thomas constantly looked for any
weakness, any chink in his
armour
.

That morning he felt he might have found it.
 
As part of the MI6 rules, each operative had
to undertake a full medical each year and standing in front of him now was the
specialist doctor who looked after the senior staff.
 
Sir Thomas had ensured all the results of The
Grey Man’s medicals went to him first and the doctor had asked for a meeting to
discuss The Grey Man’s latest check up.

The doctor was in his
early thirties and very confident.
 
Quite
used to the halls of power and the secret world, he was also highly ambitious and
saw himself going a long way in the Secret Service.
 
He knew The Grey Man was special and only a
few got to meet him and he revelled in the kudos this gave him, especially now
there was an issue which had got him an interview with ‘God’.

“What can I do for you?”
asked C.

“I thought I should let
you know there is a problem with our ‘Special Operative’” said the doctor.
 
“He has an abnormality in his eyes, a small
level of cloudiness with some scaring and his eye pressure is very high.
 
I was pretty certain it was the first sign of
glaucoma, which if not treated relatively quickly will lead to blindness so I
did a number of extra tests which came back today confirming my worse
suspicions.
 
Unless treated urgently, he
will lose his eyesight within a matter of weeks.”

“How did he take it?”
asked C.

“Oh, I haven’t told him.
 
I
have come straight to you,” replied the doctor.

“Quite right,” said C “You did the correct thing.
 
I suggest you leave this to me and I will get
an eye specialist to look at him immediately.
 
Well done for picking this up and letting me know.”

The doctor was shocked, rare praise indeed.
 
He felt he had just climbed another step of
the promotion ladder.
 

“Thank you,” he said with a large beaming smile on his face.
 
“Just doing my duty.”
 
Realizing he was now dismissed, he quickly
turned and let himself out.

C waited a few minutes then called the head of HR, Johnson, who had
a long relationship with C.

“I have a problem” he said.
 
“That doctor who does the medicals looks like a quack to me.
 
I want him replaced.
 
Is there some corner of the old empire we
could send him?”

Johnson reading through the lines asked, “How quick do you want him
gone Sir Thomas?”

“Yesterday,” replied C.

Johnson thought for a minute and said, “I have a place on an Antarctic
snooping ship that leaves in a couple of days.
 
They want a doctor.
 
It means he
would be out of communication for a few months.”

“Perfect,” said C.
 
“Dress it up
for me will you?
 
Maybe throw in a small
promotion so no hard feelings and a bunch of flowers to the wife.”

“Will do,” said Johnson, “Who do you want to replace him here?”

“Oh, anyone,” said C.
 
“I am
not fussed.”

C looked at his watch.
 
It was
just gone 3.00pm.
 
He called Joan, his
secretary.
 
“Joan, can you bring me a
large gin and tonic,” he said.

“Bit early,” she replied “Are you celebrating?”

“Sort of,” said C.
 
“Sort of.”
 
He then opened
up his laptop and typed ‘glaucoma’ into the search engine.
 
“Time for a little research,” he thought.

.
  
.
  
.
  
.
  
.
  
.

Once Collins was on the plane he continued to think of what might be
next for him.
 
He decided that he would
need to find something useful to do if he was to live his life without his
wife.
 
Start with something small perhaps
and build back up.

To detach herself from The Assassin’s life and to give herself independence
and the ability to bring up Jonathan with some level of normality, she had run
a small corner shop which is where she was murdered.
 
The Assassin had run the shop afterwards to
draw the killers out and in its own way he had enjoyed the experience.
 
“Why not start there?” he thought.

The shop had been closed whilst he and Jonathan had travelled so he
called up his cousin’s boy, Ely, who had worked there and asked him to open up
first thing in the morning and he would meet him there.
 
With that decision made he felt better.
 
He travelled home, cooked himself a simple
meal of cheese on toast and went to bed having the best night’s sleep for weeks.

The next morning Collins woke early and drove to the shop which was situated
in a poor area of London at the end of a strip of other small shops.
 
It looked the same as when they had left it
and he and Ely opened up and then cleared out anything out of date and started
to reorder new stock.
 
By mid-afternoon
he was quite busy as all the regulars came in wanting to know why it had been
closed and Collins explained he had been on holiday.
 
The next day and for the next few weeks the
shop became routine for him, just busy enough to keep his mind from dwelling on
the past and he started to settle into a pattern.
 
He had offered Ely the shop before he went to
Israel but Ely knew he could not cope and was happy being an errand boy and
helping out.

One young girl, who stood out amongst all of the customers, had a
baby in a pram and a toddler.
 
She
shopped often, never buying much.
 
She
looked lonely and a little sad.
 
She sometimes
stopped to ask Collins how he was doing and they exchanged a few words which passed
the time of day.
 
They had a business
relationship passed on from his wife, with Collins often offering goods on
credit until her social security
cheque
came and when
it did, she always paid up promptly.

One day Collins asked her name and she said it was Olivia and from
then on she called him Mr Collins and he called her Olivia.
 
Collins knew she was very poor but had always
admired the quiet dignity she carried.
 
In
one so young he knew it had been earnt the hard way and he suspected her
childhood had finished a long time ago.

As the weeks and months passed he started to get contacted by his
old life.
 
Initially ‘The Firm’ wanted him
to run some training courses but lately he had begun to take specific
assignments again, assassinating various terrorists and criminal leaders and
people found to be working against the European governments interests. Usually
all the ground work was done by The Grey Man and his gang of intelligence
operators, with Collins being brought in to execute the hit.

This meant Ely was now being left alone in the shop too often and
after Collins returned from his latest mission, Ely explained that he could not
cope on his own and either he got help or he would have to leave.

That afternoon Olivia came in for her shopping and Collins asked if
she wanted to go upstairs for a cup of tea.
 
The look she gave him would have turned most men to stone.

“No, no,” he said.
 
“I just
want to talk a bit of business.”

With that she nearly hit him.

“Not that kind,” he said, “A job.
 
Nothing more I assure you.”

She left the baby asleep in his pram near Ely who was working at the
till and carried the toddler up to the small kitchen.
 
Collins made her some tea and they both
settled down.

“Tell me about
yourself
,” he said.

“Nothing much to say,” she replied.
 
“I was born around here, went to school near here, got knocked up around
here and was kicked out by my parents around here.
 
Now I live in a little council flat, me, Ben
and Tom.”

“No husband or boyfriend?” asked Collins.

“No.
 
Not anymore.”

“What do you do with your time?”

“Not a lot.
 
I only have the
dole and that just covers necessities so it is the television, the park or here.”

“Have you ever had a job?”

“Once, when I was fourteen I worked on a market stall selling vegetables
but that didn’t last long.
 
The problem I
have now if I wanted to work is what do I do with the kids?”

Collins thought for a moment.

“Look I have a problem,” he said.
 
“I have this job in the shop and another import/export business that
takes up a lot of my time.
 
Ely is not
capable of running this business but I am loath to let it go.
 
What I need is a manager who will take it on.
 
Are you interested?”

“What me?
 
Did you not hear?
 
What will I do with the kids?”

“Well, I thought you could move into this flat above the shop and
bring them up here.
 
My son was and I
cannot see why Ben and Tom would not thrive here.”

She gave him an old fashioned look.
 
Once again he had to explain himself.

“No, no, no.
 
Let me make
myself very clear.
 
I am not interested
in you in that way at all.
 
You have no
worries in that direction.
 
There is an
old saying I like, it goes ‘
I met a real
woman once and never needed another’
.
 
My wife was that woman.”

She was not quite sure what to say.
 
“How much would I earn?” she blurted out.

“Well, if I pay the rent, heating, in fact all the bills and gave
you £200 per week after tax would that be okay?”

“Hold on,” she said.
 
“I would
have £200 per week to spend EVERY week?”

“Yes.
 
But you will earn it.”
 
Then he watched her burst into tears, long
sobs racking her slight frame.
 
“What is
the matter?” he asked kindly.

“I am so happy!” she exclaimed.

Collins reached out his hand.
 
“So we have a deal?”

“Yes!” laughed Olivia.

“Great.
 
You can start on Monday.
 
I’ll sort out the paperwork.”

At 8.00 am on Monday morning she turned up with the baby, the
toddler, a pram and one suitcase.
 
Collins
had bought his car into work to help her move but she explained the suitcase contained
all she had.

Ely was delighted with the arrangement and after teaching Olivia the
ropes, was happy to slip back into his secondary roll.
 
For Olivia it was difficult at first getting
her mind working but she was clever and a hard worker and soon found her feet.

Collins quickly realized she had a tidy and organized mind and
wanted to run things her way.
 
She set
about re-
organising the shop until it suited her and
everything was spic and span.
 
The flat
above became her domain and Collins and Ely only entered with permission.