Rise of the Enemy (13 page)

‘Fancy meeting you two here.’

‘No games this time, Logan,’ Mary said. ‘You’re staying with us until Mackie arrives.’

‘Says who?’

‘Says me,’ Chris said, anger evident in his voice.

‘How’s the head?’ I asked.

‘Screw you,’ Chris spat. ‘You’re lucky I’m not putting you down right here. Who the hell do you think you are? You could have killed me out there. And for what?’

I could understand Chris’s irritation. But I wasn’t going to apologise. I didn’t need these two helping me then and I didn’t need them now.

Mary walked up to me. She held her hand out. ‘Give me the gun,’ she said. ‘Slowly does it.’

‘If you want it, come and get it,’ I said.

The Glock was inside the waistband of my trousers. I was cursing myself for having put it in such a useless position. Less conspicuous, yes, but with my overcoat on much too hard to reach for quickly.

‘There’s no time for games,’ Mary said. ‘Where is it?’

I undid my coat and opened it out, indicating with my head down toward the butt of the gun. Mary reached over, cautiously, and took it out of my trousers. I smiled at her
as she did so and was pleased to see the look of offence on her face.

‘Logan, you need to come with us,’ Mary said, stepping back and putting the Glock in her coat pocket. She placed her hand on Chris’s gun and pushed it down towards the ground. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘We’re on the same side here. Let’s get out of the cold.’

‘Where to?’ I asked.

‘We have a new safe house. We can go and wait there until Mackie arrives.’

‘And then what?’

‘And then the two of you can talk and get this sorted out, once and for all.’

‘Yeah? What about the full psych you were harping on about last time? You know, the one where they’ll make me do tests to make sure that I’m not some nut job who’s now working for the enemy.’

‘Jesus, Logan, listen to yourself, man!’ Chris said, his anger turning to exasperation. ‘It’s not a bloody lobotomy. Yes, they’re going to make you see a doctor, give you whatever help you need. But what’s so bad about that? What makes you so special that normal protocol doesn’t apply?’

He had me there. I didn’t see myself as special. The problem was the opposite: I saw myself as expendable. I still didn’t trust that I wasn’t now simply a target of my own country’s security service and that this was merely the ploy that would finally lead me to my end. But I wasn’t about to stand and debate that point with these two.

‘Enough, all right?’ Chris said. ‘It’s bloody freezing out here. We’re going to turn into human snowballs if we stand here any longer. Now come on.’

He turned around and trudged off, back the way he and Mary had just come, heading into the biting wind. I looked at Mary. She just shrugged.

I knew that meeting with Mackie was a necessary step. I didn’t entirely trust these two, just as I didn’t entirely trust anyone, but I was sure I could handle them if I had to. And I needed somewhere warm to stay.

I started off after Chris, aware that Mary was close by my side. We caught up with Chris within twenty paces or so. He didn’t react at all, didn’t acknowledge me or Mary, just carried on walking.

The three of us lumbered on in silence for about ten minutes, taking turns down streets that I’d never been down before, heading away from the more cosmopolitan areas I was used to and into the bowels of the city. Here the surroundings were all characterless concrete blocks, remnants of the communist era and the flawed ideology of social living that those times had brought. The grey walls of the vast buildings, many of them now derelict and decrepit, blended seamlessly into the overcast sky, creating an endless dull monotony. The heavy snow had passed for now, just wisps of white left in the blustery air. The temperature remained frighteningly low.

‘How did you find me?’ I asked neither one of them in particular.

‘The bank called through to us,’ Mary said. ‘We had them watching out for you.’

‘How did you even know about that place?’

‘We’re good at what we do.’

Mary’s words made me again question Dmitri’s fate: no-one other than Dmitri knew I’d been to that bank. But I didn’t push any further for an answer I knew I wouldn’t get.

‘So you took my things?’ I said, not sure whether I was pleased or angered at the prospect of it having been them rather than someone else.

‘Yes.’

How had they persuaded the bank to grant them access?
I could see two links: the FSB and the Bratva. I couldn’t fathom how either of those was the answer.

The streets we were now walking down were desolate. It was hard to know whether that was due to the weather or because the giant buildings alongside us were sparsely inhabited.

‘Wow, this is really something special,’ I said. ‘You two lucked out getting to come to a place like this.’

‘Out of sight, out of mind,’ Chris said.

Unfortunately that was my thought exactly. If this was just a ruse then the area we were now in was an ideal spot for bumping me off, with countless empty buildings to dump a dead body in. Hardly anyone was around to see or hear anything untoward, and even if someone did, in these parts there was a fair chance that they’d just pass on by without a second thought.

I slowed my pace a little so that both Chris and Mary were just slightly edging ahead of me. I wanted to be able to see their hands. See any move. If there was one to be seen at all.

Eventually we turned and headed towards the outer stairwell of one of the concrete blocks. I spotted obvious signs of occupation, not least the fact that only a handful of the building’s windows were boarded up. We began climbing the stairs, Chris in front, Mary behind me, the stench of urine and rotting food coming and going as we went.

When we arrived at the third floor, Chris turned into the central corridor that ran the entire length of the building, down to the identical stairwell that lay at the opposite end. Doors for each of the flats were spread symmetrically on either side of the corridor, with just one small square window separating each door. Chris stopped at the fourth door on the left and his hand went to his pocket. I tensed just a little until I saw the key emerging with his hand.

Chris put the key into the lock and opened the door. He
gave me an expressionless look and then stepped in. I hesitated for just a second.

‘After you,’ Mary said.

‘No, no. After you,’ I said, turning to her and smiling.

Mary looked nonplussed and stepped past me into the apartment. I felt my tension drop just a little as I followed her through the door. At least they were both in front of me now, where I could see them.

As I stepped over the threshold, I saw Mary, just a yard ahead of me, walking through into the room at the back of the apartment. Without turning, I reached behind and pushed the door to shut it. But I could tell from the bang it made that it hadn’t shut properly.

I turned. The catch on the door was up. I went to release it, but as I did so I felt movement behind me.

And I knew then that the move was coming.

After everything they had said, they were going to take me down when my back was turned.

But I hadn’t been so stupid as to not have been ready for it. I’d been expecting it from the moment we began our walk.

I ducked low, swivelling as I did so, my right arm recoiling, ready to unleash. In the split-second that it took me to turn, my brain half-recognised surprise at the empty space in front of me, where I’d expected Chris or Mary to be standing, ready to take me out. Unable to stop my momentum, my right arm arced through the air, connecting with nothing at all.

As my body reeled, my head turned and I caught a glimpse of the doorway immediately on my left and the shadow of a figure standing in it. Before I’d even fully processed what was happening, I felt a sharp stab in my neck and the strange feeling of cold liquid rushing into my warm veins.

That feeling was the only thing I was aware of as my legs gave way and I fell to the floor.

It was strange to think it, but I was starting to feel more like myself again.

They had moved me to a larger cell. Still windowless, still a cell. But bigger at least. It had a mattress and a pillow, a stainless-steel basin and toilet. Luxuries after spending weeks on end sleeping on a cold, hard floor with nothing to keep me company other than a rusted metal bedpan.

The food was still bland but I was now receiving much more of it. I ate and ate and ate, and when I’d finished they’d give me another plateful and I’d eat that too. More than once I threw up because my body just wasn’t used to the volume. But that didn’t put me off. I just kept on going, eating as much as I could, feeling the renewed strength that each mouthful gave me.

‘You’re looking good, Carl. Fit and healthy. I’ve never seen someone regain themselves as quickly as you have.’

Lena’s words made it sound as though I wasn’t the first person she’d broken and then remodelled. And she seemed to take great enjoyment from it. It made me immensely uneasy to think that I was just another plaything to her. But she was right: I was recovering quickly, at least in body. A lot of the time my mind was still a blurred mess, not sure what to believe or whom. Furiously trying to distance myself from becoming close to Lena and her propositions, her propaganda, but at the
same time aware that I inevitably was. Her allure was starting to overpower me and I faced a constant battle to remind myself of the snake that she really was.

She was standing in front of me, on the other side of the large wooden desk, her back toward me. She was looking over a map of the world that was pinned to the wall, proudly displayed like in a war room from a bygone era. The room we were in was some sort of office, brighter and nicer than the other rooms I’d become used to.

As usual Lena had on a tight-fitting suit that accentuated the curves of her tall, slender body. I squeezed my eyes shut for just a second, pushing out the thoughts that were forming in my head and annoyed at myself for gawking at her. However you described our bizarre relationship, I certainly didn’t want it to go to that.

I was acutely aware that I was suffering on some level from Stockholm Syndrome – the paradoxical phenomenon in which captives show empathy towards and even develop feelings for their captors. It’s not real empathy, simply an inbuilt, subconscious survival technique. It was the Russians’ exact intention for me to be feeling this way: Lena’s presence – her persona and her looks in particular – were intended to exploit it. I knew that and yet I was powerless to stop it.

I loathed Lena. I hated her. I often clenched my fists together when I thought about her in my cell, wanting to crush her neck, crush the life out of her, much like she’d almost done to me. I wanted to kill her. And yet I wanted to please her too – because I liked how they were treating me now. On some level I longed for the time we spent together. I enjoyed her companionship. I needed that companionship. Without it I was all alone.

And the more we talked, the more I opened up to Lena and vice versa, the more I saw that we had so many feelings and experiences in common. She’d had a similarly unhappy upbringing to me – no father that she knew of and her mother
had died at a young age. The FSB had been a way out for her, a way to have a life, much like the JIA for me.

Sometimes we talked to each other for hours a day. I tried to be guarded, to give away little of my life. But it was clear that she already knew the most intimate details. I didn’t resent that any more. In many ways it felt good that another human being seemed to get me. Seemed to understand my thoughts and what I’d gone through.

‘You know we’d be willing to let you go. You do know that, don’t you?’ she said.

I snapped out of my thoughts. This was typical bullshit from Lena, it had to be. But her words lured me in nonetheless, as they always did.

‘Sounds good to me. Let’s go.’

Lena laughed, her smile lighting up her whole face but the darkness still remaining somewhere in the back of her eyes.

‘Very funny. Not just like that. But think about it. If you help us, we’ll help you.’

‘So that’s what this boils down to. You want me to betray my country. You want me to betray everything I’ve ever worked for. For you? For the people who’ve tortured me and held me captive for eleven weeks of my life?’

Despite my protest, I knew I’d already betrayed my people: the JIA, Mackie. But then, hadn’t they betrayed me in the first place, as Lena had so vehemently argued?

‘I’m not going to apologise for what we’ve done to you,’ Lena said.

‘I’m not asking you to.’

‘What we did was necessary,’ she said. ‘But you have to see that there’s a way out for you now. I’m offering you a way out of this. A way to be normal again.’

‘I’m not sure that I’ve ever been normal.’

‘Logan, this is the only chance you’re going to get. Your own people have left you for dead. They don’t care what happens to
you. You can either rot in here for the rest of your days or you can get out. If you ask me, it’s not a hard choice.’

‘So you want me to work for Russia. You want me to become another one of your puppets, doing your dirty work.’

‘Yes and no.’

‘Meaning what?’

‘You’d be working for us, but not a puppet. We’ve got something very specific for you. And then you’re done.’

‘Just one job.’

‘Exactly. Just one job.’

‘And then I’m free.’

‘Yes.’

‘So what is it?’

‘There’s someone we want you to kill.’

When I came to, the first thing I saw was Mary’s face. I had to open and close my eyes a few times to bring her fully into focus. My head felt heavy and my body distant. Whatever they had shot me full of was still in my system, making me drowsy and docile.

Slowly, I took in the scene. A square room. One window, off to my right. A small cabinet with a TV on top. A brown fabric sofa on which Mary sat. Looking down, I saw I was still fully clothed but had lost my coat. My wrists were cuffed to a radiator.

But I was surprised I was alive at all. When I’d turned around to face them after entering the apartment, I’d felt sure my time was up.

‘You’re back,’ Mary said, appearing jovial as ever.

I ignored her.

‘Sorry about that,’ she said, pointing to the small wound on my neck where Chris had hastily injected me. ‘Really, I am. We just thought it would be easier this way.’

I simply shook and then bowed my head.

‘Look, this isn’t easy for us either. We’ve got pretty clear instructions: we need to keep you safe and within sight. You’ve already shown that you’re not prepared to sit tight with us, so what else are we supposed to do? We’ll stay here
tonight and then head out to see Mackie when he arrives in the morning.’

I let out a long exhale. Avoided any eye contact with her.

A few moments later, Chris walked into the room.

‘Ah, you’re awake,’ he said. ‘Sorry about the needle.’

I looked up at Mary, who smiled apologetically.

‘Yes. Everyone’s very sorry,’ I said, my words slurred and slow.

Chris turned away from me to talk to Mary. They spoke to each other just quietly enough to make sure I couldn’t hear them. Then Chris turned back around and headed out of the room.

‘I’ll be back in a bit, yeah?’ he called as he headed down the hall and out the front door.

Mary and I sat for a number of minutes in silence.

‘Where’d he go?’ I said eventually.

‘Just to get some food. We all need to eat. It’s been a long day.’

‘Tell me about it.’

‘Please, Logan, I really mean it – don’t be like this with us. We’re just trying to do the right thing here.’

I could hear sincerity in her voice. And not for the first time. There was something about her manner that seemed genuine enough, even if I didn’t trust her. But what did she want me to say? They weren’t exactly making things easy for me.

‘How about you take these cuffs off? It’s not exactly the most comfortable position. Especially if I’m going to be here all night.’

She tutted. ‘I’m not going to do that, Carl. Especially when Chris isn’t here.’

She got up out of her seat, walked over and knelt down on the floor just in front of me.

‘Look, Logan, I really am here to help,’ she said, her voice
soft and quiet. ‘I’m going to get you to Mackie tomorrow and from there everything will get back to normal for you. You’ll be out of Russia and on your way home in no time. We’ll be staying on to finish things off here. But your job is done. Just work with me on this, please?’

I didn’t respond but I gave her a look of acknowledgement. I wondered what she meant by saying they were staying on to finish the job but didn’t ask the question. I was sure she wouldn’t give me a truthful answer if she bothered to answer at all.

‘You know, I’ve heard a lot about you,’ Mary said, smiling again. ‘You’ve got quite a reputation. That’s unusual in our line of business. Most of the time we don’t have a clue who else works for the agency and who’s on our side.’

‘You can say that again.’

‘I was glad when I got put on this. Glad for the chance to meet you. I’m just sorry we weren’t able to get to you sooner. I really was trying. We all were.’

Again I felt that she was being sincere but found it hard to buy what she was saying.

The expression on her face changed and I could tell she had something on her mind. But she took a few moments to compose herself.

‘There’s something else,’ she said, her head bowed, not looking at me. ‘It’s about Chris. I only met him a few days ago. I’ve never worked with him before. I don’t know what it is, but…’

I knew she was trying to tell me something but struggling to find the words. I gave her the time to finish and eventually she did.

‘I don’t trust him,’ she said.

Well, this was a turn-up for the books. My interest was immediately piqued. What can I say? I’m a naturally suspicious person.

‘Go on,’ I said.

She sighed and scratched her neck. The signs of tension were firing here, there and everywhere.

‘It’s hard to place. Just some of the things he says and does. Like just now. He’s gone out to get food. He’s always going out on these little errands.’

‘That’s it? He goes out on errands?’ I said, hoping she had more, though already willing to believe that something might not be quite right, given the course of events so far.

‘No. That’s not it,’ she said. She paused again.

‘Tell me, Mary.’

‘Well, the other day I followed him on one of these trips. He said he was going to the shop for beer. It was actually a rendezvous. With a man. It’s not right. I’ve seen this before. I might be quite new to the job but I know how things work in our field. And I think Chris might be working with someone else.’

I took a moment to digest what she was saying. Could Chris be a double agent, working for another agency, or at the least passing information? I tried to think through the possibilities of what that could mean, but it only seemed to add another layer of complexity.

‘Any ideas who the man was?’ I said.

‘Well, that’s the thing. I took a picture of the guy on my phone. I’m a spy, after all.’ She smiled, clearly proud of the fact. ‘I sent the picture to the lab, to someone I know I can trust. And it’s not what I expected at all. The guy is an American agent. CIA. I can’t think of any reason for them to be involved here. But somehow they are. And I think Chris is working for them too. Maybe it’s nothing. But I don’t like it.’

It’s fair to say that I was gobsmacked. What she was telling me felt surreal. I had no idea what it all meant. My agency, the JIA, was technically supported by both the UK and US governments. But other than a couple of people in
the upper echelons of command, we operated completely independently of the other well-known agencies of those countries. That meant that the JIA’s interests weren’t necessarily aligned to those of other agencies.

Unless what Mary was describing was a sanctioned relationship, then on the face of it Chris meeting with someone from the CIA was just as unusual and wrong as if he were giving information to an agent from a third country. It was a big deal that potentially changed the playing field considerably. And added to my confusion as to what the hell was happening to me.

‘Why are you telling me this?’ I said.

Mary turned away from me again. ‘There’s no-one else to tell,’ she said, looking down at the floor.

‘You could tell Mackie.’

‘Tell him what? And what if it’s something he’s involved in too? I haven’t known him that long. Or what if it’s all just legit, something above my pay grade that I’m not supposed to know about? Chances are it probably is.’

‘Then why are you so concerned?’

‘Wouldn’t you be?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘You’re right. I would be.’

‘Just be careful around him,’ she said.

‘What else do you know?’

‘Well, there’s one other thing…’

Just then I heard a bang as the front door closed and a second later Chris came striding back into the lounge.

Mary stood up, giving Chris a meek smile.

‘What’s going on?’ he said, frowning.

‘Nothing,’ Mary said. ‘We were just talking about tomorrow. I’ll go and make some food, shall I?’

‘Yeah, that’d be great,’ Chris said, not looking entirely convinced.

Mary took the bags of shopping off Chris and headed
out of the room and into the kitchen, which was directly off the lounge. Chris glanced down at me. I stared straight back at him. After a few seconds he shook his head, turned away and walked back up the corridor and through a doorway off to the right that I guessed led to either a bedroom or a bathroom.

I was alone in the dark and dingy room for about half an hour, mulling over what Mary had said. There had to be a way to play what she had told me to my advantage, if I were just given the chance. But what I pondered most was what Mary had been unable to tell me. Was it more dirt on Chris? Or something else?

The smell of cooking drifted through from the kitchen and my stomach began to growl violently in anticipation. I hadn’t eaten anything in too long.

Chris came back into the room and knelt down by me in pretty much the same position as Mary had some time before.

‘So what were you two talking about?’ he said, his face sullen. ‘When I was gone?’

‘We were talking about you actually,’ I said, looking hard at his face, searching for any kind of reaction. Nothing.

‘Well, I’m sure you couldn’t have had much to talk about then,’ he said with an unconvincing smile. ‘You know, Mary and I only met a few days ago.’

‘Yeah, she said.’

‘Strange in our line of work, isn’t it? You can go years working without knowing who your colleagues even are.’

‘She said that too. Look, do you think you can take these cuffs off? I can hardly feel my hands.’

Chris looked at me and sighed. ‘If I do, I’m doing it as a sign of trust, yeah? We’ve got off on the wrong foot, I know. But we all just want this to be over with now.’

‘I want that more than you do.’

‘Perhaps you do. I’ll take them off. But you know this is the best place for you to be tonight. Why waste a good opportunity for some decent food and some rest?’

‘Just take them off. Please.’

Chris stood up, fished in his pocket and took out a small silver key. He knelt back down and unlocked the cuffs, and my arms dropped to the floor. It took a few seconds for blood to flow back through my tired limbs and for the feeling in my hands to return. When it did, I lifted my hands up and rubbed them together, getting used to having some sensation back. They were icy cold. The radiator hadn’t been on at all since we’d arrived. They were also shaking. I couldn’t be sure if it was just shivers or my anxiety symptoms returning.

‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘Maybe you can actually put the heating on now.’

Chris chuckled. ‘Good idea.’

He wandered out of the room and I got to my feet and headed over to the worn single-panel window. It was dark outside. Most of the snow clouds that had covered the ground in white powder earlier had parted. The shine from the moon was lighting up the near-clear sky and the buildings around outside. The streets seemed deserted; no working streetlights here. The handful of lights on in the windows of the block opposite was the only sign of human life.

I knew Chris and Mary would be wary of me still, and to tell the truth I was surprised Chris had agreed to take the cuffs off at all. I certainly wouldn’t have. He may well have had an ulterior motive for doing so but I didn’t care. And he was right: I had no intention of running off into the cold tonight. I would stay in the warmth, refuelling and reenergising.

Tomorrow was a new day.

Chris came back into the room and walked over to me. He stood by my side, arms folded, looking out of the window. I could tell he was building up to something.

‘I hope we can use this little sign of trust to move forward,’ he said.

‘We’ll see,’ I said.

He sighed. ‘Logan, look, about before, when I went out. I saw the look on Mary’s face when I came back. I know you two were talking about something.’

‘And?’

‘And just be careful with Mary.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Chris looked behind him, to where Mary was still in the kitchen, pots and pans clanking away. He then took a sidestep closer to me.

‘I’m not sure we can trust her,’ he said, his voice lowered.

Well, this was certainly getting interesting.

‘Go on,’ I said.

‘I only just met her and I know virtually nothing about her, but I really don’t get a good vibe. You know how it is? She’s a snake in the grass. I can feel it. I wouldn’t trust what she says if I were you. Ever since we’ve been here it’s been like there’s something else going on with her.’

‘But you haven’t seen or heard anything to back that up?’

‘Not yet I haven’t. I can just tell. I might not have been in this job as long as you but I know when something’s fishy. I’m trying to help you out here. We’re on the same team. We need to look out for each other. Be careful around her, that’s all I’m saying.’

He didn’t hang around for another response, turning around and heading to the kitchen.

Now I really didn’t know what to think. What Mary had said sounded plausible. I’d been intrigued by what she’d
told me. It seemed to make some sense and it played to my naturally sceptical mind. I’d intuitively believed her. Her manner was pleasant. The way she’d dithered when deciding to tell me about Chris had been credible. She seemed professional and genuine, if a little out of her depth.

Chris, on the other hand, I just couldn’t read. What he’d said to me hadn’t carried the same weight. He had no story of an illicit rendezvous or any other evidence of why Mary wasn’t to be trusted. But I knew that wasn’t necessarily reason to dismiss his warning.

In a way, I was realising that Chris and I were probably more alike than I’d first thought. From what I’d seen, he played a straight game, much like myself. Because we were alike, we were more likely to butt heads, as we already had done. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be trusted, though, or that he was the bad guy. After all, he’d been willing to show some trust in me by taking the cuffs off.

Mary, though? Maybe Chris was right. She was so very different from me in persona, and so very likeable, that my interest was immediately piqued by her doubting Chris. But maybe that was the whole point. Maybe she was, as Chris said, a snake in the grass. Much like Lena, my captor, who’d used her looks and her allure against me.

I really didn’t know which way to go. Maybe both of them were just toying with me. They could have been in on the same scam. In the end what they had each told me really didn’t help me one bit. But one or both of them was lying to me, I was sure of that. And I was sure I would find out which one in time.