The Excalibur Codex (26 page)

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Authors: James Douglas

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BOOK: The Excalibur Codex
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‘Dear God.’ The words emerged as a babbled sob. ‘From this day forward I will only do good in the world. If you want I’ll take Holy Orders and—’

‘Jesus, don’t be such a big baby, Saintclair.’ Sarah Grant helped him to his feet and he had to resist the urge to hug her. They’d been lovers once, but that time was past. More to the point she had saved his life. The man with the pockmarked, angry face lay back in the leaves with two patches of scarlet on his chest and a neat 9mm hole below his left eye. Sarah bent down to search him, removing a pair of mobile phones and a wallet from his inside pocket, then walked across to the other man and repeated the process after first checking him for a pulse. ‘I doubt the IDs will be much good, but whoever cleans up here will get their prints. I assume one of these is yours?’ She held out the two
phones and Jamie took the high-tech mobile Adam Steele had provided.

‘You don’t know who they are, then why …? ’

‘They flew into Warsaw the same day you did, all on separate flights, but one of them appeared on the radar and we picked him up. He led us to the others. Some kind of Al-Qaida hit squad, we think. Someone must have wanted you bad to set these guys on you, Jamie.’

It was a statement, but with a question buried in there somewhere.

Jamie suppressed a shudder. ‘Butcher boy here wanted me to confess to something, but I’ve no idea what he was talking about. Something about
usurping the Lion of the Prophet
and
masquerading as a son of Islam
. There was more, but I was too busy being frightened to death to catch it.’

She gave a little whistle and studied him seriously.

‘The Lion of the Prophet is the title traditionally given to Islam’s greatest warrior. Saladin, who won back the kingdom of Jerusalem from the Crusaders, took it. It’s what Osama Bin Laden called himself and the man who holds it now is hiding in a cave somewhere on the border between Afghanistan and Pakistan.’ She produced a sudden grin. ‘You should take it as a compliment. Not many people can say they personally pissed off the man who replaced Bin Laden.’

‘Thanks, I’ll bear that in mind next time someone’s about to cut my head off.’

‘The question is why?’

‘I’ve been thinking about that, but I just can’t see why it should have anything to do with the sword.’

‘Sword?’

‘You mean you don’t know about Excalibur?’ Her face answered his question and his voice faltered. If not the sword, then why was she here? He tried to distil some sensible explanation from the confusion and the shock, but his mind wasn’t up to it. ‘But you said I was out of my depth?’ He gave her the short version of the Excalibur story and the clues that had brought them to the
Wolfsschanze.
‘I thought Heydrich and the ritual might have something to do with you being here,’ he ended lamely.

She shook her head. ‘I meant the people you’re dealing with, idiot.’ A hint of the affection of their earlier relationship took the sting from the word. ‘The kind of people who can call on the security services of a foreign power for a favour. The people,’ she nudged the corpse with her toe, ‘who attract this kind of attention. Whatever your friend Steele is up to, it isn’t just about money or an old sword.’

‘Then what?’

‘My bosses are only interested in two things, Jamie. Politics and power.’

The firing had died down and Jamie wondered what had happened to Gault and Charlotte and muttered, almost to himself, ‘I hope the good guys are winning.’

She stopped and turned to face him. ‘Who are the good guys?’

‘Your people, I thought—’

‘Get this straight, Jamie. I am violating every rule in the book by being here. Our orders were to take a watching brief only.’

‘Then how …? Why?’

‘As for the how, that business card I slipped you has a tiny strip of foil in it that acts as a very basic tracking device. After your little brush with these guys on the road, I was able to keep an eye on your movements. You can sure move fast through the woods when you need to.’ He returned her grin, remembering that she’d had a fair turn of pace herself in the Harz Mountains. The smile faded and he felt a sudden rush of nausea at the thought of what would have happened if he’d kept the card in the pocket of the jacket he’d given to Charlotte, instead of his jeans. ‘And as to the why,’ she continued. ‘I wasn’t about to let an old boyfriend have his head chopped off by some lunatic Jihadi, no matter how annoying he’d been in the past.’ They came to a crossroads. ‘I go this way.’ She pointed to the right. ‘That one should lead you back to your friends.’

‘I haven’t said thanks.’ He took her hands and looked into her eyes. He’d forgotten how brown they were. For the first time he realized that she was no longer the mercurial, doll-like girl he had loved. The fiery streaks in the raven hair were long gone, along with the hard edge and the diamond nose stud. This was a mature, sophisticated woman who’d put her career on the line for him. Her expression softened.

‘No thanks required, lover boy,’ she whispered as she kissed him on the cheek.

They parted, Jamie with something close to regret, but unable to read what the Mossad agent was thinking.

He’d walked a dozen paces when her voice reached him. ‘And Jamie …? ’

He turned. She was almost out of sight among the trees. ‘Yes?’

‘I was sorry about your friend.’

He nodded. ‘You would have liked her.’

The next time he looked she was gone.

Sarah Grant walked back to what looked like being an uncertain future. She had no regrets, she’d done what was right, and that was all that mattered. One thing bothered her, though. When they’d discovered the identity of the suspected Al-Qaida operative, her chiefs had passed on the information to the CIA as a matter of courtesy. They’d been surprised when all they received from the Americans was a terse acknowledgement and a … not quite an order, more a suggestion, that it would be a good idea to stay at arm’s length.

Perhaps she should have told Jamie Saintclair that somebody was using him as the sacrificial goat tethered to attract a tiger. Or maybe – her mind pictured a bearded figure in a gloomy cavern half a world away – a lion?

She smiled and dismissed the thought. From now on Jamie Saintclair would have to look after himself.

Sarah Grant was still smiling when the watching
figure stepped out onto the path behind her and very deliberately pumped two bullets in her back with a silenced pistol. As the Israeli agent lay with the blood filling her lungs a slim shadow loomed over her and put a third bullet in her brain.

XXVI

‘Where the hell have you been?’ Jamie’s head felt as if it had been put through a gravel crusher and the fact that Gault was nursing a nasty gash on his cheek didn’t inspire any sympathy. The former SBS man appeared from the trees close to where they’d crashed into the gully, accompanied by the Russian who’d been at Nortstein.

‘I could ask you the same question,’ Gault grunted. ‘I got out of the car and took off expecting you to follow. What do I find? I’m on my own and there are three of the bastards up my backside yelling in Pashto. The only reason I’m still in the land of the living is because your Russki mate and his pals appeared and gave me the chance to find a bolthole.’

Vatutin approached with a solemn look on his pale face. ‘Such a shame, eh, but when we saw you were in trouble we felt we had to help.’

‘Yes?’ Jamie didn’t hide his suspicion.

‘Sure.’ The Russian shrugged. ‘My client would be
upset if I mislaid you. Don’t worry about this,’ he gestured to where his men were loading bodies into the back of a white van. ‘We make it all go away.’ He grinned. ‘It is what we do.’

Jamie had a feeling that the proper thing to do would probably be to call the authorities, but Vatutin was very certain and since he couldn’t hear the sound of sirens it was probably for the best. He could still feel the knife blade at his throat. ‘There are another two, possibly three, back there in the trees,’ he said.

The Russian nodded and called something to one of the men. He turned and his face changed as he looked over Jamie’s shoulder. ‘I think maybe you have a problem.’

Jamie followed his gaze as Charlotte staggered from the trees close by. She was still bleeding heavily from her forehead and when he caught her in his arms, her body went limp.

‘They killed him,’ she sobbed. ‘They killed Hermann.’

Jamie closed his eyes.

‘What is it you English say? It never rain but it pours.’ Vatutin’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Just remember, Mr Saintclair. You owe Kaliningrad a favour, yes?’

More than a thousand miles west of the Wolf’s Lair, the chairman of the Committee for a Greater Britain raised his eyes from the papers on his desk. Beyond the windows of the London mansion the first fresh buds of spring were making an appearance and sunlight streamed into the room, but the three men were indifferent to the
pleasures of their environment. ‘How is the planning proceeding for the detention centres?’

‘My people have identified suitable sites in the ten districts we’ll create, each with first-class road or rail access to a port. As you suggested, we used the Polish models as our starting point, but with some added refinements to increase security. It helps that the adult males will be separated from the families.’

The chairman nodded. Keeping the families apart would allow the new authority to use them as carrot and stick against each other. Any threat of trouble from the most likely source, what might be called those of military age, and they would be denied contact of any kind with their families, with the implied threat that those families might suffer further hardship. On the other hand, good conduct and cooperation would be met by promises that they would be reunited at some unspecified point in the future. Whether that promise was ever met only time would tell.

‘And the guards?’

The bland features altered into a grim smile and the chairman mused that it was like watching candle wax set. Still, he was the type who would always get the job done. Every new regime needed someone like that. ‘I doubt we’ll have any trouble recruiting them given the climate that will undoubtedly prevail. We already have lists of suitable candidates from our friends in the Met and elsewhere. We’ll need more, of course, so we’ll target former army NCOs and police officers,
plus certain members of the lower classes, who tend to be ideal for this type of work – pre-brutalized, if you like.’ The smile turned into a smirk. ‘We’ve created a security company that is already screening applications, identifying possible NCO material and admin types.’

‘Thank you, that is most satisfactory.’ The chairman turned to the tall man in the dark suit. ‘Are we satisfied with the military aspect of the operation?’ He’d been tempted to recruit the general on to the central committee, and the old soldier had seemed keen, but some instinct had made the chairman decide otherwise. The larger the committee, the greater the chance of a leak, and they couldn’t risk that now. But there was something else. Not a squeamishness, quite, but a suppressed sense of tainted honour in the military man that made him hesitate. With the decision made, he was happy to leave the liaison to the tall man, himself a former soldier with an SAS background. Well placed, with the best of access and contacts, and entirely without scruples, like the earlier speaker he could be trusted to do what was right, whatever the cost.

‘The general assures me everything will be in place. Four regiments based in London and commanded by officers sympathetic to our cause, another regiment in the Midlands and a further two in the north, each fully armed and equipped with heavy weapons. As far as the junior officers and rank and file are concerned, it will be just another realistic anti-terror exercise. When the code word is issued they will take control of key transport
links, TV and radio stations and other communications hubs, they’ll also guard power stations and refineries. All mobile phone signals and Internet links will be severed, apart from a shadow service that will be operated and utilized by our people. In effect, we will control any and all information the country will receive. When everything is in place the Duke will solemnly inform the nation what has occurred via selected television channels. At the completion of the broadcast he will summon the emergency committee. Once the scale and enormity of the atrocity becomes clear we envisage that the country will immediately rally to our cause and back the new regime.’

The chairman suppressed a shiver as he reflected the power such control of events would give him. To the two other men in the room, he seemed to grow in stature, his hands flat on the oak table in front of him as he raised himself to his feet. He might have been about to make a speech and his eyes had a distant look as he considered the steps he had set in motion. Strong leadership could only be provided by those with the power to enforce it. The army would ensure a peaceful change of leadership in the capital, secure the centre of the country and provide an unassailable show of force in the north, where most opposition was expected. Initially, only carefully selected information would be released. First, they would parade the bodies of the terrorists who had planned and carried out the attack. Then they would provide evidence of links to key individuals who would
be detained in the first hours of the changeover and create a wave of revulsion against those they represented and those who had given them succour. As the noose tightened on the non-indigenous community, a few more minor atrocities would no doubt occur to generate doubt in the minds of those most likely to protest against the crackdown. Mass arrests of individuals deemed a threat, while the misguided liberals would be held incommunicado for their own safety. Secret internment camps in remote parts of the country would already be in place to house the most dangerous detainees under a regime that would be correspondingly severe, and any dissent punished by lethal force. Detention centres to hold the majority of the male population until they could be repatriated. In the meantime, the regime would have introduced a rigidly enforced identity card system. The holder’s card would allow access to certain categories of food and levels of employment. Naturally, that access would be controlled by the new government and dependent on the cooperation of the holder. Non-indigenous subjects would no longer be allowed to own factories or run shops that could provide support and logistics for the terrorists. Their property rights would be restricted. As they could no longer work they would be forced to turn to the state for support, which would be provided in the form of government-allocated housing and food from state-controlled stores. Accommodation and supplies would only be available in designated areas and, once established, these areas would be subject
to restricted access, successfully completing Phase One of the operation: containing the threat from the suspect population.

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