Rise of the Enemy (19 page)

I was more angry than surprised. Taking my possessions from the safety deposit box was one thing. But this? That account was my personal money. Other than the scars on my body it was all I had to show for nineteen years of toil for the JIA.

But on top of the anger, which was hard to suppress, I also felt sorrow. I wasn’t sure why. I’d had no emotional attachment to that money. It had sat piling up in that account for years and I’d never had the time or desire to use it to splash out on material items. The feeling of sorrow was more because of the implications of what the missing money meant.

Because it wasn’t just my assignment that had been sabotaged – it was my whole life.

And the timing of the account closure was notable. Yesterday afternoon. After Mackie’s death. Not really a surprise, but it was clear the agency were holding me responsible. It felt like my own people were now trying to erase my very existence. Was I just an irredeemable problem to them now? An embarrassment that they wanted to get rid of?

I stood doing nothing for a couple of minutes, trying to figure out my next move.

I had another call to make. There was only one number I could dial for which I wouldn’t need money.

Mackie’s number.

I didn’t know who would answer the call, if it was answered at all. Even if it was answered, chances were I wouldn’t know the person on the other end of the line. The agency was necessarily secretive. I’d met only a handful of other people who worked there. We had no functions or conferences or Christmas parties. The people I knew were the ones I needed to: Mackie and a small number of agents I’d worked alongside at various points in time. Probably fewer than one person for every year I’d worked there. And some of those weren’t even alive any more. It had to be that way. Both for the safety of the agency and its agents. The fewer people you knew – and, more importantly, the fewer people who knew you – the more likely you were to survive a life like mine.

After five rings the phone was answered. Silence for a few seconds. Not even the sound of breathing. Then a man’s voice.

‘Who is this?’ he said.

The tone was terse. The voice was gruff and low-pitched. I didn’t recognise it.

The phone signal sputtered a couple of times, crackling coming from the earpiece, probably due to the poor weather. I wasn’t sure whether the connection would stick.

It did.

‘Who is this?’ the voice said again. ‘Logan, is that you?’

Now that the connection was clear, his voice fell into place. Peter Winter. Mackie’s young assistant. Not a PA as such, more a trainee, being groomed to one day be a commander like Mackie had been.

We’d met before. He was young and clever and enthusiastic
and inexperienced and a pain in the arse. We hadn’t got on particularly well. But I knew Mackie had thought highly of him. And I knew he was loyal to Mackie.

Under different circumstances he might have been an ally. But I got the sense it wasn’t going to be that way today.

‘You’ve got a nerve calling this number,’ he said. ‘After what’s happened. What the hell do you want?’

‘I don’t know,’ was my feeble response.

‘Where are you?’ he said. ‘We’re going to find you. You’d better believe that. We will find you. You’re a wanted man, Logan.’

‘You think I killed Mackie?’ The words sounded surreal to me.

‘You know, you might think you’re some kind of superhero, running around taking out the bad guys, but not this time.’

‘I didn’t kill Mackie,’ I said.

‘Really? Then how about you come in and we can talk all about it.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘I always told Mackie you were a loose cannon. That one day you would flip. I always thought you’d only end up hurting yourself, though. Not this. I never thought you’d end up like this.’

‘Don’t let your misconception of me get in the way here, Winter. I’m the one who’s been wronged. I was the one who was left in the hands of the Russians. Left to months of torture.’

Winter laughed sarcastically. ‘You’re going to long for those days to be back when we’re finished with you.’

‘I didn’t kill Mackie!’ I shouted through exasperation rather than anger. ‘Don’t you get it? Someone is setting me up.’

‘I got a call from your bank just now,’ Winter said, ignoring me. ‘Sorry about that. Just how long do you think you’re going to last if you keep on running?’

I gritted my teeth. I’d already assumed the agency had been responsible for clearing my account. But to be taunted with it by this worm was something else.

‘You need to give yourself up, Logan. Come in. That’s the only way you can move forward now. If you don’t, I’m only going to make things worse for you.’

‘I’m not coming in. You should know better than that.’

‘We’re just protecting ourselves. And our other agents. That’s all we can ever do.’

‘You had no right to take my money.’

‘
Your
money? Everything you’ve ever had in your life has been because of the JIA. It’s not your money. And don’t think we’re going to stop there.’

‘Your threats aren’t exactly winning me over.’

‘These aren’t threats. When this is all over, you’ll be begging for your life back.’

‘Whatever you do to me, I’m going to finish this.’

‘Play it like that if you want. You’ve still got a choice. If you make the wrong one, you can kiss your life goodbye. There will be no Carl Logan. With a few clicks on a mouse I can have your entire life erased. No fancy flat, no bank account, national insurance number, passport, driving licence, birth certificate. It’ll be like you never existed.’

‘If that happens, you’re going to wish I never had.’

I slammed the phone down. This time I was unable to resist the urge to lash out and I thumped the metal panel behind the phone once, twice, as hard as I could. The whole booth shook and my knuckles were immediately throbbing. I didn’t care.

They thought I’d turned. That I’d set up Mackie to be killed.

Yes, it had been a setup, that meeting. For the Russians to get access to Mackie. But it wasn’t my setup. Someone else had got Mackie killed. And I had to find out who. I wasn’t going to go down without a fight. I was going to get whoever had been involved in the whole sorry mess. Whatever it took. And I was going to make them pay.

Winter said the bank had already put a call in to him. There had only been a matter of minutes between when I’d spoken to the bank and when I’d dialled Mackie’s number. The fact the JIA were keeping such close tabs on me meant they would be close by. They’d probably be trying to trace the location of the calls I’d just made. Mary or Chris or whoever else was out there looking for me wouldn’t be far away. That was fine with me. I didn’t care any more if they found me. One way or another I was going to finish this.

Strange as it seemed, standing in that phone box I couldn’t help but compare my predicament to Grainger’s. Sure, her situation was different. There was no sense that she’d been set up by anyone – the mess she’d found herself in was, ultimately, of her own making. But when she’d shot me and gone on the run, she’d condemned herself to a life in the shadows. Running was certainly an option for me too. But I wasn’t going to go that way. Not while the people behind my demise were still out there. I had to believe that I could still find a life for myself, if only I could get to the bottom of what was happening.

My next stop was the safe house that Chris and Mary had taken me to previously. If they weren’t looking for me already then I’d make it easy for them.

I retraced my steps from the first time I’d been taken there, back along the street of concrete monoliths, quiet and largely uninhabited. I didn’t know what I’d be walking into when I reached the safe house. Perhaps Chris and Mary hadn’t been back there at all since the incident in the café. Or maybe a full team of people was now there. I would be ready for whatever was thrown at me.

I arrived at the unassuming apartment building, walked up the slippery steps to the third floor and exited onto the corridor. As I approached the safe house I pulled up alongside the door, doing a quick recce of the area around. I saw no signs of life. I pushed my ear close to the door, straining to hear any movement. Nothing. I knocked three times and listened.

The sound of footsteps caught my attention. But they weren’t from inside the flat. They were coming from the stairs, down the corridor, ten yards from where I was standing. Before I could react, I saw a figure appear at the top of the stairs.

A woman.

Mary.

She was looking down, fumbling with a set of keys. When she looked up at me, she immediately stopped. A rabbit caught in headlights. Both of us.

‘Shit!’ she said, turning on her heels.

She ducked back into the stairwell. I could see as she rounded the corner that she was already reaching into her coat. Probably for a weapon. I wasn’t armed. I had nothing at all. But I didn’t hide, I gave chase. Because of the look in her eyes. It told me three things:

She wasn’t prepared.

She was alone.

And she was scared of me.

As I rushed over to the stairwell I could still hear her
footsteps, descending. I realised she wasn’t positioning for attack. She was running away. I reached the stairwell and leaned over, looking down. I spotted her, already three floors below, rounding the final bend.

I didn’t know why she had run. To get back-up? Because she was genuinely afraid of me? Either way, I decided against going after her. Whatever her motives for running, I knew that it had given me a window of opportunity. Whether she was gone for good or just waiting for support, I had a chance to get into the safe house. Alone. For all I knew there would be money, food, even weapons in there. I needed all three.

I turned on my heels and raced back to the safe house door. I tried the door handle, out of habit more than anything else. Locked. But the door was rudimentary with a simple latch lock. Safe houses are deliberately inconspicuous. No heavy security. It only took one barge from my shoulder and the whole door splintered off its hinges.

If Mary had gone to get help, I had at worst a couple of minutes. I rushed into the flat, rifled through drawers, looked under rugs, behind curtains, under cushions. Nothing.

I moved on to the sole bedroom, which had twin beds. I looked under the pillows, under mattresses, in the cupboards. Again, nothing. Just a few clothes and some toiletries.

I rushed back out and through into the kitchen. I opened cupboard doors. I found tins and packets of food still there. I stuffed some crisps and crackers into my overcoat. I didn’t have time to eat there and then but I would need to later.

But I found nothing else of interest. I felt slightly deflated, though what had I expected? Mary and Chris would have been careless to have left anything of value, anything useful to me, in plain view. If time had been on my side, I would have turned the place upside down. I was
sure there would be something for me. Maybe under floorboards or in hidden drawer compartments. It would be very unusual to have not kept weapons hidden for times of need.

The problem was I didn’t have the time to try to find them. I thought about taking one of the knives from the kitchen, so that I’d at least be armed. In the end I didn’t. Without a sheath there wasn’t really an easy way to carry an eight-inch blade. At least not without drawing unwanted attention or cutting myself.

Before leaving the flat I took the opportunity to quickly change out of the bloodied trousers and jumper that I was wearing, swapping them for a pair of jeans and a black turtleneck that I presumed were Chris’s. They fitted me just fine and it felt great to have clean, laundered clothes on again.

I headed back to the open front door and hesitated just for a second, wondering whether I’d be walking out into someone’s firing line. I stole a glance and didn’t spot anything untoward. Taking big strides, not looking behind me, I moved back to the stairwell and began walking down.

As I approached the ground floor I again slowed, taking in my surroundings, looking for any threats. I could see none but it was impossible to know. I could only assume that Mary had scarpered or was hiding from me. Regardless, the stairwell was my only means of exit and time was not on my side. Moving forward was the only option.

But as I took the last step the question as to where Mary had gone was answered when I heard her voice.

‘Don’t move,’ was all she said.

She needn’t have worried. I wasn’t going to. I could already feel the cold barrel of her gun pressed against the back of my neck.

The choices that people make tell you a lot about their intentions. I knew that Mary wasn’t going to pull the trigger. If she wanted to kill me, she’d already had two opportunities. But I had no idea why.

‘Do you trust me?’ she said.

No. I didn’t. Not at all. I didn’t trust anybody any more.

‘Yes,’ I said.

She took the gun away from my neck and I turned to face her.

‘Then follow me,’ she said. ‘We can’t stay around here.’

She turned around and began to walk away. I was confused as hell. But I wasn’t about to stop and try to figure out what was going on. Without a second’s thought, I set off in tow.

We walked away from the safe house, back towards the city.

‘Where’s Chris?’ I said.

‘I haven’t seen him since yesterday.’

‘What about Mackie’s bodyguard? From in the café?’

‘I don’t know where he is either.’

Something wasn’t adding up, but I didn’t know what. I got the impression, from her worried expression and her fidgety
mood, that Mary didn’t either. Unless she was leading me on.

She pulled me into a side street and we stopped walking.

‘What’s going on, Mary?’

Her head was bowed. I could tell she was upset. And scared. I didn’t fully trust her. But her manner was certainly intriguing me if nothing else.

‘Yesterday, after Mackie was shot,’ she said, ‘I headed back to the safe house with Bates. He was one of Mackie’s security guards. The other one was killed in the street. But Chris never reappeared. I don’t know where he is.’

‘So where’s this Bates guy now?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said, her voice fraught. ‘He got a call last night and then went out. I’ve not seen him since.’

‘Have you called in?’ I said.

‘Of course I have. I spoke to Winter. He just said to sit tight. It looks like he’s been given an early promotion – the commander position he always wanted. But he’s not exactly proving to be helpful so far.’

‘And what did he say about Chris? And Bates?’

‘He didn’t tell me anything.’

Not altogether a surprise. Agents were only ever told what the JIA wanted them to know. Whoever was pulling the strings now that Mackie was gone was obviously keeping everyone tight-lipped.

‘They’re after you, Logan. They think you’re with the Russians.’

‘By
they
I take it you mean Winter?’

‘Not just Winter. Everyone who’s involved.’

‘And what do you think?’

‘They think you killed Mackie,’ she said, avoiding the question. ‘Or at least had him killed. They’re not going to rest till they get you. They’re in a panic about what you
might have leaked. And about what further damage you could still do.’

I found it hard to believe her words. Not the sincerity of them, but how my whole life had been turned upside down. I never thought I’d see the day when I was wanted by my own people.

‘Then why haven’t you already killed me?’ I said. ‘That’s what they want, right? That’s what they’ve told you to do?’

‘Because I know you didn’t do it,’ she said, looking up, into my eyes. ‘I know you didn’t pull the trigger on Mackie and I don’t think you set him up either. I saw the look on your face when you ran. It wasn’t the look of someone who’d planned that attack. You were really afraid. I’ve not known you for long, but I’ve not seen that look on you before.’

Her words hit me hard. I felt such relief to hear them. To hear that someone out there might be on my side. But it also brought home for the first time just how I’d felt the moment that Mackie had been killed. I
had
been afraid. But more than that, I’d been devastated to see a person so close to me gunned down. Even to the bitter end, with everything turning against me, I’d still wanted my relationship with Mackie to be like it always had been. And that would never happen now.

‘What about Bates?’ I said. ‘What did he think?’

‘I’m not sure he does think. He’s not exactly a sharp tool.’

I smiled at that. Even though I’d never even spoken to him, he hadn’t struck me as such.

‘Why had you left the safe house?’ I said. ‘It’s pretty early for you to have been out.’

She rubbed her neck nervously. ‘I didn’t stay there last night. I just didn’t feel comfortable there on my own.’

‘Then why bother coming back at all?’

‘I wanted to see whether Bates or Chris had turned up.’

‘I don’t buy it,’ I said.

It was the way she’d said it. Either an outright lie or at the least she was holding back on me. She definitely wasn’t letting me in on something.

She sighed. ‘Okay, look, I’m worried, Logan. You know what I said about Chris? Everything that’s happening, Mackie’s death, it has to be connected.’

‘To the CIA?’

She shook her head, confusion on her face. ‘Maybe…I dunno. Why did
you
come back to the safe house anyway?’

‘It was the only place I knew to come back to. I’m not going on the run. I’m going to get out of this mess one way or another.’

I could tell from the look on her face that she was dubious about my aim.

‘I just can’t believe how messed up this is,’ she said, putting a hand to her head in exasperation. ‘Where the hell
is
Chris?’

‘The Russians told me Mackie’s death was part of a deal,’ I said, looking for a reaction.

‘You’re speaking with the Russians?’

She looked shocked, as though maybe she’d made a mistake in having shown faith in me. Maybe she hadn’t known that’s how I got away from the café. I wasn’t going to get into that with her now, though.

‘I’m not working with them,’ I said. ‘Not after what they did to me. Don’t ever forget that.’

‘I never thought you were. Otherwise we wouldn’t be speaking here, now.’

‘Do you have any idea what kind of a deal the Russians could mean?’

‘It’s not something I’ve been told about. But then who the hell would have told me? Mackie was my boss, so I hardly think he’d have told me about a deal to kill him!’

‘Yeah, figures.’

‘But then…’

I got the impression she was trying to find the right words.

‘You know something?’ I said.

‘Maybe. Maybe not. Not directly, but it’s about Chris. You know I was trying to tell you before, but didn’t get the chance?’

‘Go on.’

‘It may be a lead at least. He was on the phone the other day. In the safe house. He was asking about train times to Moscow. For today. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I assumed he was just getting info for his next assignment. Before yesterday, I thought we
both
would’ve been out of here by now. It could be nothing. But it’s all I’ve got. Something is going on with Chris. There are just too many things that seem to be out of place.’

I thought for a minute. I had no way of knowing whether what she’d said was a complete red herring. Or she could have simply been setting me up. I didn’t have many other options, though. And I was here to fight back after all.

‘Well, I’ve not got anything better to do,’ I said. ‘Let’s go to the station.’

Mary hesitated for just a second before turning around and we trailed back onto the main road, then headed onwards to the station. We walked at a brisk pace, trying to keep warm in the harsh winter air. But also because of anticipation over what might come next. A nervous cloud hung over both of our heads. I knew that neither of us fully believed the other. But I got the sense that she was struggling to get to grips with the situation almost as much as I was. Until things became clearer, we would both have to turn a blind eye to our suspicious minds. At least I knew that one way or another Mary would lead me to some answers. Even if she was just setting me up for a fall.

When we arrived at the station it was almost ten a.m. The morning commuters had all but dispersed. We found the departures board and noted the times of the remaining trains to Moscow. Only a half-dozen more were scheduled, mostly clustered in the afternoon and evening.

‘Any ideas?’ I said.

She thought for a moment before responding.

‘It was definitely today he was talking about,’ she said. ‘And it was in the afternoon. He asked for times after one. That’s all I can remember.’

There was a train at ten past one and then another after four. Either way, we had a bit of a wait on our hands.

‘I guess we’ve got some time to kill,’ I said.

‘Yeah. I guess you’re right. So what do we do from here?’

‘We sit and wait. It’s not like I’ve got anywhere else to go.’

‘We can’t just stand here, though. It’s not exactly inconspicuous.’

‘Why do we want to hide?’ I said. ‘If Chris is coming here, for whatever reason, then I’m not going to just let him get on his way.’

‘Why do I not doubt that?’ she said.

‘Come on, let’s go and get something to eat. I’m famished. Even if he does show up, it won’t be for a couple of hours at least.’

The station itself was relatively bare. But outside I’d noticed a line of cafés and restaurants. If we got a good spot, we’d be able to keep a lookout for Chris from there.

We headed out and found a Russian café directly opposite the main station entrance. We chose a table back from the window but close enough to get a good view of the outside. We positioned the chairs so that we were both at right angles to the front. That way neither of us had our back to the door. We both wanted to be able to scope the area for anything untoward.

I ordered blini with sour cream and a pot of coffee. Sod the no-caffeine rule. I’d slept the night in the freezing cold on the folded-down seat of a shitty car. I needed a boost. Mary ordered eggs, bacon and a pot of tea. When I smelt the fried meat coming toward me, I wished I’d ordered the same. But the blini were good and I knew they’d line my stomach well and keep me going if I didn’t get the chance to eat again in the next few hours.

‘What happened to you?’ Mary said, looking up from her cup of tea. It was the first time either of us had spoken for a good fifteen minutes or so.

‘How do you mean?’

‘When they caught you. The Russians. What did they do to you?’

‘It’s hard to talk about it,’ I said. ‘I’m sure you can understand why.’

‘It’s just that I’ve never been in that situation before. I don’t know how I’d cope. I know they train you for it. But to live it – that’s something else.’

‘After a while, you don’t even think about it any more. It just happens.’

‘Did they have you in a cell?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘When we first spoke to you, on the train here, I couldn’t believe how with it you seemed. And not just mentally but physically as well. I couldn’t understand how you could have kept yourself so together that whole time.’

‘I didn’t. At times I thought I’d never get out of that place. That’s not easy to deal with. It messes with your mind. There wasn’t an end in sight to it either. There was never any indication that anyone was coming for me. I got out of there on my own account because I didn’t want that place to be my grave.’

‘I know,’ she said, ignoring the jibe at her, at the agency,
for leaving me in there. ‘That’s what I mean. I just can’t even imagine what being in there must have been like.’

I couldn’t be sure whether Mary was just fishing or if her questions were born out of genuine interest. I got the impression that it was probably a mixture of both. As someone who’d never found herself in such a situation, so she claimed, I could understand why she’d want to know about it.

‘Did they break you?’ she said, her face deadpan.

I paused from eating and looked her in the eye. A long, hard stare. I certainly didn’t want to start getting into the details of what I did and didn’t say to the Russians during my time there.

She broke eye contact first. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. I just want to understand what happened to you. But it was wrong of me to even bring it up.’

‘Let’s just talk about something else. Okay?’

‘Yeah, okay.’

‘Tell me a bit about yourself. How did you end up here?’

She smiled. I hadn’t seen her do that much recently. It suited her. She had such soft features, but when she wasn’t smiling her face took on a look of perpetual angst – though maybe that was just at the situation that she found herself in.

‘I’ve been with the agency for two years,’ she said.

I raised my eyebrows. I’d sensed a nervousness about her manner. Much of that was likely down to her inexperience.

‘I joined from uni,’ she said. ‘I’d always wanted to be a psychologist but I wound up with a data analyst role at the JIA. Mackie soon persuaded me to become a field agent.’

If she’d joined straight from university, her two years with the JIA would put her in her early twenties still. I’d thought she was older than that. But I could now see how the age matched both her features and her manner. I was surprised Mackie had let someone so young, so naive, out
into the field on a case like this. But then Mackie never did anything without a reason. Whatever Mary’s qualities were, Mackie would have been using them to their maximum.

‘So how long have you been in the field?’ I said to her.

‘Just a little over a year.’

I shook my head.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she said.

‘Yeah?’

‘Yes. You think I’m too young, too inexperienced, to be out here with the likes of you.’

She was dead right. I did.

‘You’re also probably thinking I had some privileged background. That I went to some posh school and then a top university before walking into this job.’

‘It had crossed my mind,’ I said. It was something I’d presumed when we’d first met on the train.

‘But none of that makes me any less qualified to do this than you,’ she said with just a hint of anger. ‘I might have been picked for this role for very different reasons to you, but that doesn’t mean I’m not good.’

‘No, but I agree with you one hundred per cent that we’re different. In fact, I don’t think we could be any more different.’

She huffed and leaned back in her seat.

‘Okay, I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I was just trying to lighten the mood, but obviously it didn’t work. I don’t think you’re any less qualified to be here than me. You just have to understand that I’m not here because of some career ambition. This has been my life.’