Blind pursuit, p.12
Blind Pursuit, page 12
Plop. Plop. Plop.
She winced with each strike. Pulled herself onto her side.
‘Everyone OK?’ Titus shouted out.
He got a yes from Denis. From Butler too.
Not from Lea.
Plop. Plop. Plop.
A piece landed right on her head and wedged in her tussled hair. She reached up and pulled the object off and stared at the charred morsel.
Charred morsel? Burned flesh. Naomi’s pulverised, burned flesh.
Hands shaking, Lea tossed it away before Titus grabbed her under the arm to lift her up.
‘You OK?’ he asked her again.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m fine.’ Although the truth was, she abso-fucking-lutely wasn’t.
12
LONDON
Butler and Titus remained somewhere on the African continent, their job done, money in their accounts. Not quite so simple for Lea and Denis to move on. Lea didn’t want to move on. A colleague of theirs had been brutally, savagely killed. Lea wouldn’t forget, and she wouldn’t let it lie. Still, even if the mission – official or otherwise – felt far from over, both had left Cairo immediately after the exchange and they were back in continental Europe by the following morning, with little chance to properly think about – let alone discuss – what the actual hell had happened, both before, during and after Denis’s and Naomi’s time at the Syrian embassy.
All of that came in due course over a gruelling three-day debrief in London. Most of it was one on one – Denis with the hierarchy, Lea with the hierarchy – but the two field agents had still found time here and there to fill each other in before the final conclusive meeting was scheduled for 7.30 a.m. on a drab Friday morning.
Lea had barely slept. She hadn’t properly since that first night after Cairo when she’d slept like a log, barely stirring, but she realised now that was due to mental exhaustion more than anything. Since then… impossible to rest, given everything that tumbled around in her head.
She’d spoken to Callum plenty during the last few days too, his voice a constant source of comfort, even if she hated the lies that rolled off her tongue. At the simplest level he thought she was still overseas. He had no clue what was really happening in her world, nor would he.
She hated the lies, but if anything, she needed that part of her life more than ever now. The life that didn’t have violence and backstabbing and constant danger around every murky corner.
She’d be back with him soon enough, even if only for a little while.
‘Good morning,’ Lea said as she walked into the meeting room. Three others were already in there: Denis, Goldman, and the plump silver-haired Victor Reynolds. Technically Goldman and Reynolds were the same level, but he was more senior and probably a step up the ladder, through longevity as much as anything else. His official title these days was deputy chair of counterespionage, though Lea had always thought that a strange and contradictory title for anyone in MI6 to hold.
‘Take a seat,’ Reynolds said, indicating the chair opposite him and Goldman, and next to Denis. A proper little interview set-up as though the two agents were about to be grilled.
Lea smiled at Denis as she took her seat. The swelling in his face had gone down some over the last couple of days but she knew other injuries were a long way off healing.
Some would never heal.
From what she now knew, both he and Naomi had been forcibly interrogated. Beatings to start with. But things had turned ugly the second day of their captivity in the Syrian embassy when fingernails were torn off, digits broken. Finally toes removed. Denis had lost two on his right foot. Seven of Naomi’s had been cleaved off before they shot her in the gut and let her bleed out an agonising death, Denis tied up by her side as he watched her fading, knowing he’d be dead too, or at the very least more pieces of him removed, if he didn’t start talking.
Brutal. Sickening. Haunting.
And that was just for Lea, having to hear it all second-hand. Denis had lived it and would have to continue to live with it.
‘We don’t need to go through the gruesome details again,’ Reynolds said. ‘I’m sure you’ve had enough of that by now. So let’s just make sure we all know exactly where we stand and then we can bring this dark matter to a close and move on.’
‘Move on?’ Lea said. ‘You think—’
‘Lea, I think you know what he means,’ Goldman interjected.
Lea didn’t answer that though everyone in the room knew she wanted blood.
But that would have to wait.
‘The Syrians have confirmed that the people responsible for this atrocity were Iranian nationals who held special diplomatic privileges with the Syrians,’ Reynolds said. ‘They are believed to have links to the Revolutionary Guard. We’ve been assured they had no official authority from the Syrians to carry out this barbaric attack on their soil.’
‘So the Syrians are going to hand over those responsible?’ Lea asked.
‘No,’ Reynolds said. ‘We haven’t been able to convince them of that. But they have confirmed that the people in question have all had Syrian diplomatic status revoked, and Egypt will make sure they’re sent back where they came from.’
‘And their identities?’ Lea asked.
Goldman and Reynolds glanced at each other.
‘We still don’t know,’ Goldman said. ‘I’ll continue to use channels we have to try and find out.’
‘But most likely this is linked to Jalali, right?’ Lea said.
Kind of stating the obvious there, given Denis and Naomi were chasing that lead – that had started back in Toulouse – in Cairo in the first place. Except from what he’d said, they’d uncovered no concrete evidence of Jalali or the other Iranians on their list from Toulouse actually being in Cairo at any recent point before he and Naomi were captured.
‘So what’s the next move?’ Lea asked.
‘There is no move,’ Reynolds said.
Denis shifted in his seat but said nothing.
‘This has been discussed at the highest level,’ Goldman said, ‘and we need to let things cool before either of you even considers going back out chasing the tails of these people again. I don’t deny that all of the parties you previously identified remain persons of interest, but for now—’
‘Do you have anyone else looking into this?’ Denis asked.
‘Right now?’ Goldman said. ‘No. As of now there is no official ongoing investigation into these parties, because so far, we have no concrete evidence of wrongdoing. So until that evidence comes into play—’
‘Are you fucking serious?’ Lea blurted.
‘Deadly,’ Goldman said.
‘You can’t find the evidence if you’re not looking for it.’
‘And you two are definitely not looking for it,’ Goldman said. ‘Not until we say otherwise. Got it?’
‘Got it,’ Denis said.
‘I guess,’ Lea said.
‘You two should recuperate on home soil. A few days, at least.’
Denis scoffed.
‘If you need longer, you can have longer,’ Goldman added, directing the comment at him. ‘But I didn’t think you’d want it.’
‘That’s fine,’ Denis said. ‘I don’t need it.’
He looked over at Lea, and she couldn’t be sure if that was a sly dig at her or not. Six months she’d taken after nearly being killed. He’d been tortured and disfigured and witnessed a brutal murder of a colleague and apparently remained raring to go.
‘Are we done here?’ Denis asked.
‘We’re done,’ Reynolds confirmed.
Not long after, and Lea and Denis were outside on the busy street by the river, soggy tourists in raincoats and ponchos roaming, men and women in suits heading to and from offices with big umbrellas to shield from the thrumming rain. Like the one Lea held up for both her and Denis, him moving gingerly – ponderously, too – with his still-healing debilitations, their shoulders brushing every few steps as she tried to stay close enough to keep him dry.
‘Looking forward to getting back to your man?’ he asked.
‘I’ve missed him.’
Denis humphed.
‘What?’ she prompted.
‘I miss you,’ he said. ‘We were a team.’
‘We still are.’
‘Then where were you when I needed you?’
Lea didn’t answer – too gobsmacked really to think of anything to say.
He sighed and shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, it’s just…’
He hung his head. Lea put her hand on his shoulder as though her touch would bring comfort, make his harrowing experience disappear or something.
‘Naomi…’ he started but didn’t finish.
‘We’ll get justice for her,’ Lea said. ‘I don’t care what Goldman said. No official investigation? Then I’ll do it myself, in my own time. And you’ll help me, right?’
He looked unsure.
‘What?’ she said.
‘It was her fault.’
‘Naomi?’
‘She let her guard down. I think she gave us away and—’
‘That’s not what you told—’
‘Of course I’m not going to bad mouth her to the bosses. She lost her life. I nearly lost mine. But she caused it, Lea. You ask me, she wasn’t up to it. You should have been there.’
‘I’m… sorry.’
‘I wish it was just like it used to be. You know?’
She didn’t seek clarity, but yeah, she thought she knew what he meant. They’d worked so closely, side by side, for the best part of six years, assignment after assignment, from that very first time in Singapore where they’d spent four months living – as far as the outside world could see – as a married couple. The mission then had been to infiltrate a banking conglomerate where two English nationals were suspected of passing confidential data to Chinese spies. As far as Lea and Denis, and MI6 were concerned, the mission, which had eventually seen the two Englishmen returned home and put on trial and sentenced to life imprisonment, had been an all-out success. And Lea and Denis had formed a bond in those months that had seen them through countless other missions, often much more deadly, taxing in body and mind and soul than that first escapade.
But the bond had always been on a professional level, nothing more, even if Lea had long suspected Denis wanted more.
‘Now you go swanning back to Bristol again, a few days screwing and sleeping in every morning,’ Denis added, ‘while I’m left to pull the pieces of my life back together.’
She tried not to let her rising anger show at his words, his tone.
‘Don’t forget they tried to kill me too,’ she said.
‘Yeah. I know. And what did you do? You ran away to try and forget about it, try and pretend it never happened. Maybe… that’s what I should do too.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m saying… I don’t ever want to be in that position again. And you can already see Reynolds and Goldman don’t care about us getting revenge. Justice. Whatever you want to call it.’
‘I don’t think they said that exactly—’
‘So you go take your time off to Netflix and chill or whatever. Maybe I’ll do the same. Maybe we should both just fucking quit and be done with it before one of us gets hurt. Again.’
He brushed past her and stormed off.
The train journey west to Bristol was anything but calm, peaceful, the carriages bustling and busy and Lea’s mind in overdrive. She’d called ahead to check on Callum, but it was 2 p.m. on a Friday and he’d already finished work and was drinking beers with a couple of the guys from the site. Not a problem. Even though she missed him like crazy and couldn’t wait for the moment that he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet and helped her forget all about recent events, if only for a few moments, she needed a bit more time to sort her head out before she went ‘home’. And there were two other people not far away who she really needed to go see. It’d been way too long.
Her parents lived in a little bungalow in a village about ten miles outside the city. Nothing much out there really except fields and forests. As a youngster she’d hated it. Hated how everything felt so disconnected and there was literally nothing fun for a teenager to do other than hang around in the woods and smoke and drink.
Back then she couldn’t wait to get away from this place. Now she saw the appeal in all sorts of different ways, even if she was sure she’d still be bored senseless after a few weeks or months.
But right now, she craved the solitude and the comfort.
A quick glance over her shoulder as she walked up the path to the door. No one else around on the street. She rang the bell and waited. Her mum opened the door and not even a second later had grabbed her daughter and pulled her in for a big hug, her head fitting right under Lea’s chin. She was only sixty-five but she seemed to shrink more every time Lea came.
‘Claire!’ her mother beamed, standing back to admire her. ‘Fred, it’s Claire!’
Inside, Lea kind of winced at the name, her real name, but the name of a different person, really.
Her dad appeared in the hall. Damn, he looked so old and frail these days. Sixty-eight, but with his recent health problems – from a heart attack to a mini stroke to a hip replacement to a cancer scare – he looked older. Moved as though he was older.
‘So good to see you!’ he said, hugging Lea even more tightly than her mum had. But then he looked over her shoulder as though checking if anyone else was there.
And she figured why. At least, she thought she knew why. He wanted to know if she had a man yet. A future husband. A future father to his grandkids. Someone to look after her – or was it her as the carer, the housewife? – because she couldn’t possibly be happy, complete, without a man. At least in his outdated way of thinking. But that was fine. It’s who he was.
The strange thing this time was that she did now have someone. She just wouldn’t ever be able to bring him here or even tell her parents about him.
The only time they’d ever meet was if she was dead.
That sad thought gripping her, she stepped inside.
There was a lot of talking over dinner. Lea’s parents caught her up on all the usual village gossip, health issues, the ins and outs of their friendships. Lea also talked a lot about her ‘job’ with BTS, her recent travels, tried to use truth as much as possible. And felt the weight of those truths as she spoke. Noted the concerned look on her parents’ faces growing.
‘Did something bad happen?’ her mum asked, putting her hand over her daughter’s on the tabletop.
‘Yeah. A colleague of mine, Naomi. She’s the same age as me. She… she died.’
Her mum cupped her mouth in shock. Her dad solemnly shook his head.
‘That’s awful,’ her mum said. ‘What happened?’
‘An accident. Overseas.’
‘You were there?’
‘In… Cairo, yes, but I wasn’t there when it actually happened.’
‘You poor thing.’
‘I told you before about that job,’ her dad said. ‘All that travelling to those places. Only a matter of time before something bad happened. If you wouldn’t go there on holiday, you shouldn’t want to go there for work.’
Lea didn’t say anything to that. Just another of his strongly held views, which had so many holes in it, really – not least the fact the two of them travelled to Cairo to see the pyramids many years ago. But, in a way, she brought this spotlight on herself by originally telling them about her globetrotting ‘consultancy’ job.
Although she hadn’t told them a thing about what had happened in Toulouse, about her nearly dying there. Instead, she’d just not seen them for a while after that escapade.
She hated herself for that.
‘Are you staying the night?’ her mum asked as she started to clear away the plates.
‘Is that OK? I need to get away in the morning, but—’
‘We’d love to have you.’
‘I’ll go make up the spare room,’ her dad said before heading off.
By 8 p.m. they’d all settled in the living room, her dad in the armchair, Lea and her mum on the sofa, Lea nestled into her mum’s side.
‘Fred, for Pete’s sake you’re asleep already!’ her mum shouted at him, tossing a folded chocolate wrapper in his direction which bounced off his nose. His eyes sprang open and he sniffed and murmured but moments later was dozing, mouth wide open again. ‘Every blood night!’
‘Aw, leave him, Mum. He’s happy.’
No response, but Lea sensed something and shuffled up in her seat a little.
‘What?’
‘It’s nothing.’
‘No, it is.’
‘We are happy,’ her mum said, looking seriously pensive. ‘You know we are. But… he doesn’t smile the same when you’re not around.’ Like a punch to the gut. Lea couldn’t find the words to respond. ‘He misses you so much. We both do.’
‘I know. I miss you both too.’
She said nothing more, only wondered, as she often did, if they’d ever forgive her if they found out the truth.
Lea left her parents’ home after breakfast, but not without a lot of gentle persuasion from them both for her to stay longer, and after that had failed, to commit to when she’d next see them.
Honestly, despite the sadness of saying goodbye, she felt much better for having seen them, for having talked through some of the issues on her mind, particularly Naomi. It’d mean, in theory at least, that she felt more prepared for reuniting with Callum.
She headed straight for his apartment. No point in going back to her place. She’d last had a text from him at eleven last night and could tell he was pretty wasted then by how gushing he was, and how poor his spelling was – bad even for him. And strangely, as she stood at the door to which she had a key, she paused a moment, thinking about what kind of state he’d be in this morning.
But then another much more disturbing thought struck her.
