Zero Hour (40 page)

Jules and I took the same chairs as last time.

Tresillian didn’t look worried or concerned. Not even angry or anxious. I liked that. I wanted to hate him, but couldn’t.

‘Let’s not fuck around, Mr Stone. How do I know that you really do have Lilian, and that she is still alive?’

‘When I’m ready, I’ll throw her up on Facebook. She’ll be called Lillian Vampire-Girl. I’ll make sure there’s proof of life up there at the same time. But that’s not going to happen until we have a deal, I get a pass, and you answer some questions.’

He leant back again. ‘Go on.’ He was almost smiling.

‘It was the Vietnamese food, wasn’t it? That was what fucked me up. The fake scan, the fake drugs?’

‘Of course.’ He was surprised I’d even had to ask.

‘Why go to all the fucking effort of getting me to believe I was dying? I took the job because of it, but you could have got someone else with far less effort.’

‘You were a test, Mr Stone. A simple exercise to find out how good our technology is. We collected your DNA, and we carried out a field trial. And it was a fucking good one, don’t you think? No one else who ate in that restaurant was contaminated. It was designed to target just your DNA. Now, if we’d wanted to kill you, we would simply have used a different compound.

‘At first you weren’t even being considered for the task. Since the Russians killed Litvinenko by garnishing his sushi with polonium-210, we thought we’d see how well our concoctions would work in the field.’

He was feeling very pleased with himself.

‘I think we can safely say our activities in that department put us among the leaders in the field.’

Jules wasn’t happy. ‘Why wasn’t I informed?’

Tresillian turned to face him. ‘Because you would have disagreed.’

‘The scan, the drugs?’

‘The scan was faked, and the drugs, very shiny red placebos. A chalk compound, I believe.’

‘So you decided to fuck me over with a plate of rice, then send me on a job and kill me afterwards?’

He raised his hands, palms upwards. ‘Why worry about being killed when you’re already dead?’

‘And you were pretty fucking sure you’d get two for the price of one.’

‘Julian kept telling me how shit-fucking-hot you were. But I think it’s safe to say that even you would never have found the girl in time if it hadn’t been for that incredibly intelligent Russian woman of yours.’

‘And you had to find Lily before Tarasov did. So maybe he’s not such a great mate after all. He must have been pretty pissed off when you rubbed out his two lads in Amsterdam. Rival traffickers? He just wanted his daughter back. I knew Bradley was talking shit.’

Tresillian was enjoying every minute of this. He was like a magician who couldn’t wait to explain his best conjuring trick.

‘You were never trying to find her so you could hand her over, were you? You were going to keep her. She’s leverage.’

He looked at me like I was the village idiot. ‘Just as you are now using her against me. Hector Tarasov is not yet a friend of ours - but he does have a rather important role in our immediate future. The deal we have in mind will take two more weeks to complete.’

‘Just before a certain shipment leaves his factory for Iran.’

His expression clouded, just for a moment - but long enough for me to know that I’d pulled off a conjuring trick of my own.

‘Our aircraft may well have to infiltrate Iranian air space to destroy their nuclear power plants. We might have to fight alongside the French in Algeria to defend our oil and gas interests. We might have to fight alongside the Americans in West Africa to safeguard our energy supply against Muslim fundamentalism in the Niger delta. We need those motherboards … adjusted. Very simply, Mr Tarasov needs to do as he is told if he ever wants to see that child again.’

‘But you don’t have Lily. I do.’

The light went out in his eyes. ‘You are welcome to keep her, Mr Stone - as long as she doesn’t go near her father. Can you guarantee that? If so, I may be able to accommodate you and your not only intelligent but very attractive Russian friend.’

‘And Kleinmann, of course. He gets a pass. This time tomorrow he’ll be back in LA with his mother, trying to dodge his ex-wife’s lawyers.’

He raised a hand and slapped it back on the table. ‘I imagine they’ll deal with him rather more brutally than I would have.’ He leant forward again, his forearms resting on the table. ‘But you should be in no doubt, Mr Stone, I have a lot more plates than Mr Tarasov’s to keep spinning, and I will do whatever the fuck it takes to meet my objectives.’

‘So you keep saying. But what about fucking up Amsterdam? You didn’t even know I was going to end up there.’

His eyes burnt into mine. ‘Read the papers, follow the informed debate. The attack on the silo was carried out by Iranian-backed Muslim extremists. A number of innocent young girls would have been killed - if you hadn’t suddenly turned into the Scarlet fucking Pimpernel - strengthening our country’s resolve to fight and defeat them.

‘The only truth that matters, Mr Stone, is the one that people want to believe. Am I right?’ He didn’t give me a chance to answer. ‘My job is to attack them from every angle, at all times, with all means. There is no quarter for courageous restraint, Mr Stone. We are at war, and you are - or were - a casualty. Finding the girl was the objective, but along the way I saw an opportunity target and I attacked it. If the trail had led you to the centre of fucking Cheltenham and the same opportunity arose, I would have taken exactly the same action. I will always use everything in my power to protect the UK, its territories and dependencies, wherever I can, and whenever I can.’

‘Which includes ramping up anti-Muslim rage?’

He wagged his finger like a headmaster. ‘No, no, no. Don’t be so naive. It’s there to ensure the pro-Iranian factions understand the dangers we face. It was an opportunity that you brought to me and it worked.’

The leather squeaked as he sat back into his chair.

‘Tell me, Mr Stone. Why did you save those young women? It served no purpose.’

I hesitated, but only because I’d just realized the answer to his question. ‘Your DNA experiment did me a favour. It put me through a moral carwash. I wanted to sleep at night, particularly since I didn’t have that many of them left.’

He didn’t miss a beat. ‘And having gone through this moral-fucking-carwash, I take it that you will not be serving your country again?’

‘Correct. I’ll leave it in your capable hands.’

‘Do not underestimate me. If my operation against her father doesn’t succeed because of you, I will retaliate.’

It was my turn to lean forward.

‘No, you won’t. I’ll keep my end of the deal, but I have everything documented, and it’s sitting on a cloud. Everything - and I mean everything - will be there for anyone to download should anything happen to me, Kleinmann or the girls. So get on with your Tarasov stunt, but be quick about it. Lilian is pretty angry with her dad right now, but she might want to go home on day fifteen. Who knows? And by then that fucking cloud will contain a few more goodies - including this meeting.

‘You’ll deny it, of course. But everyone in our world knows there’s no smoke without fire.’

If I had got to him, he didn’t show it.

‘Will that be all, Mr Stone? I need to get on with my life now. I want to go home - and I’m sure you want to do the same.’

Jules shook his head in disbelief. ‘And you just let me stumble around in the dark?’

Tresillian stood and brushed a loose thread off his sleeve. ‘There were certain things you simply did not need to know. If you ever get to sit in this chair, you can decide who knows what. Until that day, I will.’

It wasn’t the answer Jules was after. He controlled his anger, but only just. ‘You had me put my friend’s life at risk. You were going to have him killed, for Christ’s sake.’

Tresillian sat and stared. His voice was low and even. ‘Julian, man up. What do you think we do for a living?’

I stood as well, to relieve the pain in my arse wounds. ‘I know I’m pond life, on the shit side of the fence, but isn’t Jules supposed to be one of yours?’

Tresillian chuckled. ‘Well, Julian, what side of the fence
are
you on?’

Julian stayed put, his eyes fixed on the tabletop.

I turned and went outside. The smaller of the two heavies greeted me with a smile. ‘We’ll escort you to the station, sir. The first train to London on a Monday morning is in about six hours.’

EPILOGUE

Wednesday, 14 June
11.15 hrs

It wasn’t supposed to be this way, but this time I didn’t give a shit.

I leant against the triple-glazed floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse apartment and looked out over the river. But the view from the flat I’d rented was over the Moskva, not the Thames. To the right was the Borodinsky Bridge, and behind that the Russian Federation’s government buildings. It was a great place for me to do much the same as I’d done in London a few weeks ago - just sit and gaze out at the city, especially at night.

Anna had been right. Moscow had looked great in the spring, and looked even better now in early summer. I must have walked in every one of the city’s ninety-six parks. Of course, Gorky Park had been the first. It was the only one I’d heard of. Then I discovered there was more green stuff here than in New York, and New York had more of it than London. It almost made me glad I’d left.

As the days got longer and warmer, Anna and I had headed for Serebryany Bor, an island just a trolleybus ride away. It could be walked at any time of day, but it was especially great in the evening when the late-setting sun bathed the
dachas
, woods and river. I checked out the spring buds and flowers, kids on bikes with stabilizers, all the normal shit that now made sense to me. These were people who were getting on with their lives. I was getting on with mine too. It was all right. It wasn’t as if I jumped up every morning and ran outside to kiss the flowers and hug the trees, but I’d been taking the time to stand and stare. For a week or two, anyway. Then I’d started to get itchy feet.

The sound of a plate smashing echoed round the open space. I turned to see Lily steaming with frustration. ‘For fuck’s sake!’

I pointed at her, bollocking style. ‘Oi, less of that!’

It was just about the only new bit of English Lily had learnt, and it had become her catchphrase.

Anna had taken her to Dresden. They’d stayed with some Romanians she knew. I’d kept well out of the way, in case Tresillian reneged on his side of the deal.

When the two weeks were up, Lily decided not to go back to Moldova. She contacted her father and apologized. She couldn’t agree with his views but she understood them. She wanted to stay in Moscow and continue her degree at Moscow State when the new academic year started.

It was like a refugee camp in here sometimes, with Anna’s mates bringing her girls they’d rescued from the meat markets and Mafia nightclubs in the city. Anna then turned them over to the Lenas of this world.

It wasn’t all about saving the world and appreciating the green stuff. Anna and I had been hitting the galleries and museums. My favourite was the Tretyakov. I found myself getting well into Russian icons.

The doorbell rang. ‘For fuck’s sake!’

I walked towards her. ‘I’m warning you!’

Anna checked her watch as she came out of the bedroom. ‘He’s early. You said he’d be here at five.’

I flicked the kettle on.

She opened the door. Jules stood there with a black wheelie, his face once more a vision of perfection.

They kissed and she ushered him in.

I’d said no at first to a meeting. He’d made his choice. I’d made mine. Lesson learnt. But Anna was right. If he wanted to come over, fuck it, he could.

Jules stared at me from the hallway. He held out a hand. ‘Hello, Nick.’

He looked apprehensive, but he needn’t have. I didn’t care that he knew where we were, or even if Tresillian did. Anna had written up her version of what had happened, and together with mine and Lily’s, it was floating on the Apple MobileMe cloud, ready to be discovered as soon as any of us had a drama.

Anna took his wheelie and rested it against the cloakroom door. He wasn’t staying.

I went and shook his hand. ‘Tresillian sorted?’

He nodded. ‘It all worked.’ He glanced at Lily as she made the brews. ‘Our Moldovan friend came on board.’

Lily came out of the kitchen area. She walked up to him with a smile and an outstretched hand. ‘Hello, my name is Lilian. Nick says you’re staying in the city for a couple of days?’

Jules looked a bit uncomfortable. ‘Yes, I’ve got something I want to talk to Nick and Anna about.’

Lily got it. ‘I’ve made the tea. It’s British, not Russian.’ She turned to Anna. ‘OK if I go?’ She’d made some friends in the building.

The tea was weak and shit. I turned on the Nespresso machine. Julian and I sat at the black marble breakfast bar but Anna remained standing. She tapped Jules’s hand. ‘What is it you’ve come to talk to us about?’

I dropped a capsule into the machine and sparked it up.

‘I’ve resigned.’

Anna’s jaw dropped.

‘A month ago.’ Jules turned to me. ‘Remember what you said about a carwash?’

I pushed him a brew. Things went quiet for a while. I didn’t know what to say.

Anna tugged her cigarettes out of her jeans. I pointed to the balcony. There’s no smoke without fire.

Andy McNab
joined the infantry as a boy soldier. In 1984 he was ‘badged’ as a member of 22 SAS Regiment and was involved in both covert and overt special operations worldwide. During the Gulf War he commanded Bravo Two Zero, a patrol that, in the words of his commanding officer, ‘will remain in regimental history for ever’. Awarded both the Distinguished Conduct Medal (DCM) and Military Medal (MM) during his military career, McNab was the British Army’s most highly decorated serving soldier when he finally left the SAS in February 1993. He wrote about his experiences in three phenomenal bestsellers:
Bravo Two Zero, Immediate Action
and
Seven Troop
.