Authors: Jeremy Duns
But now he was worried Dark might have tried something, and he just didn’t know about it. The BOSS agent had an intercom set attached to his belt, and Campbell-Fraser wondered whether he
could take him aside in the next break and call Inkomo to check. Perhaps he could also figure out a way to put further pressure on Charamba – let him listen to his daughter and her son on the
intercom, perhaps?
Campbell-Fraser looked up as he registered the sound of breaking glass. One of the windows of the carriage was shattered and the curtain had blown into the room and draped itself over several of
the African delegates. As Campbell-Fraser moved towards Smith, he saw the BOSS man in his peripheral vision moving to reach for his pistol. In the same instant, he saw that the figure tumbling
through the glass was clutching something in his hand, a greyish-white object.
‘Hold your fire!’ he shouted at the BOSS agent. ‘Plastic explosive!’
Rachel approached the sentry hut and asked to speak to Sandy Harmigan. One of the men stepped forward and looked her over. He took in her accent and the way she was dressed
– far too many layers – and smiled.
‘And who shall I say is calling?’
‘Rachel Gold.’
He nodded and went into the hut. She waited, gathering her thoughts. There was no wind, and sweat was sticking to her blouse. Beyond the barrier she could see a constellation of corrugated-iron
buildings in the midst of the forest plantation, with clusters of aerials extending from rooftops like metallic branches. The sentry emerged from the doorway and walked back towards her.
‘Wait here,’ he said.
Ten minutes later, she saw a tall figure walking towards her. It was Sandy, wearing his pale-grey linen suit and his straw hat. He looked like he was about to go punting.
‘You found it, then!’ he said. Now he reminded her of her father, greeting a guest for lunch. ‘Sorry about not being able to warn you in advance, my dear. By the time I decided
to come out, you were already in the air from Belgium. I take it the flight was all fine?’
She nodded, noting the lie, and followed him up to the barracks. He led her through a deserted, darkened operations room, past radio sets and walls covered in maps and pins. Rachel was reminded
of the early days of Review Section. She’d come a long way since then.
Sandy ushered her into an office that had a sign reading ‘M
AJ
. C
AMPBELL
-F
RASER
’ on the door. The air
conditioning was on full blast. The room was sparsely decorated, with a filing cabinet, a small refrigerator and, positioned diagonally, a long desk. Seated in a low chair at the far end of it was
a slim figure in a severe dress, wearing a pendant around her neck.
‘Hello, Mrs Harmigan,’ Rachel said.
Car 49 was silent now. Each of the delegates had a wire leading into a small putty of plastic explosive attached to his forearm. All the wires were connected, and led to the
small device held in the hand of the man in the black mask. Matthew Charamba had disarmed the BOSS agent, and now held his pistol out in front of him, his jaw clenched.
Ian Smith was the first to speak. ‘This is madness,’ he said. ‘If you kill me or anyone else in this room, it’ll set your cause back decades.’
The man by the window drew back the mask to reveal his face. ‘I don’t intend to kill you, Prime Minister. My name is Paul Dark. You might not have heard of me, but some of your party
have.’ He nodded at Campbell-Fraser, whom he recognised from Manning’s dossier.
‘I don’t know this man,’ said Campbell-Fraser. ‘I have no idea—’
There was a burst of crackling static and a tinny voice echoed around the room. ‘De Bruyne – everything okay in there?’
It was the BOSS agent’s walkie-talkie.
‘Answer it,’ said Dark. ‘Tell him all’s well.’ His eyes flicked to the detonator in his hand. ‘Make it convincing.’
De Bruyne spoke rapidly into the mouthpiece. ‘Everything’s fine here. Someone just dropped their glass.’ He signed off.
Dark nodded. ‘Good.’ He turned his attention back to Smith. ‘Just so we know where we stand, Prime Minister: on Friday, a group of Major Campbell-Fraser’s men kidnapped
Matthew Charamba’s daughter and grandson from Sweden, on your instructions. The idea was to manipulate Professor Charamba into appearing at this summit and arguing, without seeming to, in
favour of your government’s position. With his popularity across the country, he’d be able to secure the votes needed to push through the resolution with the black population. But the
result would be an indefinite extension of white rule. It was a clever little plan. Ingenious. But it had a flaw, didn’t it? Unfortunately, Campbell-Fraser’s men didn’t realise
Hope Charamba’s boyfriend was not all he seemed.’
‘Dark?’ said Smith. ‘Wasn’t there a Soviet spy with that name?’
‘Yes. When Campbell-Fraser realised who I was – or perhaps when someone realised for him – he tried to have me killed by sending one of his thugs after me. And now here we all
are.’ He looked around the carriage, and the frightened group of men staring at him.
‘I assure you I had no knowledge of this, Mr Dark,’ said Smith, his voice quiet but determined. ‘However, I’ve no doubt we can come to an amicable arrangement.’
‘We’d better,’ said Dark. ‘Whether you knew about it or not, the plot has failed. There isn’t going to be any resolution here except for our family being returned
to us, along with a guarantee of safe passage into Zambia. Otherwise, we’ll release the tape recordings of the telephone calls Major Campbell-Fraser made to the professor here, and even with
his voice disguised I think you’ll both find it rather difficult to explain to the world’s press. And we also, of course, have other options.’ He glanced down at his hand
again.
‘But if anything happens to us, your family will die anyway,’ said Smith.
‘If you refuse to release them, it won’t matter, will it? The professor and I are in agreement about this.’ He nodded at Charamba, who nodded back.
‘Your threat is meaningless,’ said Smith. ‘If the press see all this commotion they’ll want to know what the hell’s going on. So the story will get out
anyway.’
‘You will deal with that now. You and Professor Charamba will go out and make a brief statement together saying you’re very close to reaching agreement but that the pressure of
everyone waiting for it is off-putting so both delegations have asked to continue the talks in complete privacy tonight. If they don’t leave at once, they’re in danger of scuppering a
deal for the future of Rhodesia – that sort of thing. Dismiss the security detail for the same reason.’
‘They won’t like that,’ said Smith.
‘They won’t be able to do much about it – a request from the negotiators themselves, one of them the leader of Rhodesia. I’m sure you can make it convincing, Prime
Minister. I presume there’s a no-fly zone over the area?’
Smith nodded.
‘Stand that down, too, effective immediately. And if you try to give any sort of signal something is wrong, the professor will shoot you through the back.’ Dark glanced at the
opposite end of the carriage, where a small clock hung from the wall. ‘You’ve got three minutes to clear everyone away and get back to your seat or I flick the switch on this
thing.’
Smith made to object, then changed his mind. Charamba walked towards the Zambian end of the carriage and gestured with the pistol in his hand. Smith stood and joined him.
‘After you,’ Charamba said grimly, and Smith opened the door. Charamba followed him out, and a few moments later the sound of Smith’s voice floated up to them.
‘Gentleman, we have a brief announcement to make . . .’
Dark looked around the compartment until he found what he was looking for: there was a telephone on one of the side tables. He carefully handed the detonator to Phillip Gibo, then picked up the
receiver: the connection was live. He gestured to Roy Campbell-Fraser to leave his chair and come to sit in the one next to him.
‘We need to make a call, Major. I want my family placed on a flight here at once.’
Celia Harmigan returned Rachel’s greeting with a look of barely disguised loathing. Sandy strode across the room and settled into one of the other chairs, folding his
legs. It was a swift, casual movement, as debonair as ever, but Rachel sensed an unfamiliar awkwardness.
‘We flew here in one of Celia’s planes,’ he said airily. ‘Considering the urgency, it seemed the best option. Celia insisted on coming along for the ride.’ He
looked towards her and smiled forgivingly. ‘A little African adventure.’
Rachel took in the false jollity, and Celia’s continued silence.
‘Has Dark turned up yet?’ she asked.
‘No,’ Sandy said, sitting up. ‘And with any luck, he won’t. In the meantime, the summit is continuing, and I’m using this spot as an observation post. I know the
chap who runs the place.’
‘Yes,’ Rachel said quietly. ‘From Malaya. I know.’
He looked at her for a long moment, then leaned back in his chair. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘You’ve flown all this way, so let’s hear it.’ His voice was steely
and hard now, the pretended air of friendliness suddenly gone.
‘It’s over,’ she said. ‘Us, of course.’ She glanced at Celia. ‘But also the two of you. Edmund is back as Chief.’
Celia Harmigan looked up. ‘Christ, Sandy,’ she said. ‘Can’t you keep your little bitch under control for even a few hours?’
Sandy Harmigan didn’t speak for a few seconds.
‘She’s bluffing,’ he said, finally.
Rachel shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not, dear heart. I interviewed Proshin in Brussels – yes, against your orders – and he told me all about your little gang. “The
Spear”.’ She turned to Celia, nodding at the pendant. ‘Lovely piece. It’s not silver, is it?’
She had fallen silent again, and Rachel went on.
‘Platinum, I expect. But that’s not where the big business is, of course. The big business is chrome. Geoffrey Manning told me about it in vivid detail.’
‘Manning!’ said Sandy, and laughed. ‘Rachel, I’m disappointed, really. You shouldn’t believe a word that fool says. As for Proshin, I’ve no idea what
he’s told you, but you should know by now that a potential defector will claim just about anything under the sun. Especially if he’s been ordered to by Moscow.’
She walked towards the table and sat on the end of it. ‘You’re not understanding me. It’s over. It’s not just me who believed Manning – Edmund did, and so did the
JIC. They met to discuss it all this afternoon.’ She looked down at her watch. ‘The PM should also have been informed by now.’
‘Well, well.’ Sandy placed his hands on the table and spread them out. ‘While the cat’s away, the mice do play. Look, I’ve no idea what you think you’re
doing, but if anything you’ve just said is true you’ve wasted a lot of people’s time and they won’t be very pleased when I get back to London and clear it all up.
Manning’s a traitor to the Service, and Innes is mentally deranged – howling at the moon I’m a double agent, for God’s sake! As for Proshin, well, he’s clearly a
Soviet plant spreading disinformation on Moscow’s orders. Some rather peculiar stuff, by the sound of it. How were you taken in by all this nonsense?’
Rachel nodded – she’d expected him to try this line. ‘You can’t smooth-talk your way out of this,’ she said. ‘Even to me. You’re too late. Innes,
Proshin and Manning each have credibility problems, but put them together and they’re a formidable team. Proshin had the documentary evidence about your group. Manning had the expertise to
explain it. And Edmund had the ability to decipher it all, and the clout to make sure it was listened to. A shower, a suit and personal vindication can do wonders for a man’s persuasive
talents. And he never accused you of being a double agent – at least, not for the Soviets. Because your allegiances lie elsewhere, don’t they?’
‘Sandy, I think I’ve had enough of this now,’ said Celia. ‘Can you get rid of her?’
Rachel turned to her and smiled. ‘It won’t go down very well if I disappear. Unless you fancy facing murder charges. It’ll be easier to prove than with Gadlow, I
expect.’
Sandy suddenly stood and walked towards her. She thought he was about to hit her, but he stopped when he was about a foot away. ‘You’re being offensive now, Rachel,’ he said.
‘And I’m not sure it’s wise.’
‘What, for my career? Who’s bluffing now?’ She smiled. ‘Edmund didn’t accuse you of working for Moscow. You just let me think that. No, he discovered you were
running private operations on the side with your friends, and he told you to stop it or he’d sack you. You denied it all, of course, and there was sweet eff-all he could do. But then I looked
through the stuff Kotov had passed us and found the evidence that Gadlow was working for the Russians. That changed the situation rather drastically, because he could blow your little gang’s
existence and activities to Innes. And then you’d not just be sacked, but you and several others would be in gaol with a D-notice having been slapped on the trial. So you stalled. You huffed
and you puffed that the evidence against Gadlow wasn’t conclusive, all of which gave you enough time to arrange for someone to kill him. Who was the assassin, by the way?’
‘Don’t answer her,’ said Celia.
‘I suspect he was related to someone from your Malaya days,’ Rachel said. ‘Anyway, it doesn’t much matter – he did his job. Of course, by sending me out to fetch
Gadlow you’d put me in the frame to take the fall for it, though you did your best to rectify that after the fact. Sweet of you. But you did it for tactical reasons: it protected you, but
also held my “failure” to protect Gadlow over me and used it to make me loyal to you. Then you used his murder – the murder you’d arranged – to oust Edmund. He was
unprofessional for having let me out in the field, a traitor had been lost on his watch, and so on. You played it very cleverly. The final straw was making out he was losing his marbles. And whoosh
. . . you were Chief.’ She took a breath. ‘And now you’re here, having flown out on a Meredith Mining jet.’
She walked to the fridge, crouched down and opened its door. She took out the bottle of champagne and turned, holding it up.