“I’ll bet,” Greere muttered. ‘Torturing more like,’ he thought to himself.
Sentinel huffed, it sounded like he was of the same unspoken opinion. “The soldier was reported as having, and I quote, ‘a hitherto unidentified substance abuse problem’. They believe the scanner was passed to a local drug dealer.”
Greere felt his jaw muscles clenching. That would have been a big ticket payment, even if the unsuspecting addict hadn’t inadvertently handed over an object that was being closely monitored as part of a bigger international arms deal. This wasn’t some petty transaction. This was premeditated. “Do they have a name for the dealer?” Greere asked carefully.
“One, Gulyar bin Imraan,” Sentinel replied and Greere felt his face go cold. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh, nothing, sir,” Greere tried to keep his tone as casual as possible. “I have a couple of dormant assets in the region. Perhaps we can help out?” One of these assets was already moving toward Herat, but Sentinel didn’t need to know that.
“I don’t think so,” said Sentinel brusquely. “Let’s not raise our profile there until the current mission is done and, well and truly, dusted. The Yanks can afford to lose a scanner. As I see it, the risk is a different and more obvious one.”
“And what’s that, sir?” asked Greere, pretending to be the good little dumb soldier.
“I’m wondering if our targets might still be trying to find out if they’re bugged,” said Sentinel imperiously.
Greere scowled, of course that was what they were doing. His boss was, typically, miles behind the curve but, right now, he needed to find a way to use this unexpected twist to his advantage. “Hmmm,” he made it sound like he was thinking carefully about Sentinel’s blatantly obvious suggestion. “I hadn’t considered that,” he lied. The fact was, he knew Bin Imraan... Well, his asset did... Months ago, the drug dealer had been the one who helped put names to three of the terrorists – Nagpal, Sikand and Hossein – and had been remarkably forthcoming in return for a suitably sizeable wad of hard cash. Greere himself had been roundly applauded for so quickly and accurately providing identities for three of the five grainy CCTV images circulating after Victoria.
At the time there had been no questions asked, nor any answered – Greere hadn’t revealed his sources – but he did know how Bin Imraan had been able to put names to the images: the men had all served together. So Greere knew full well, that if Bin Imraan had secured this scanner it could only be for one person – Murat Nagpal.
“Will this KRX scanner find one of our latest sub-dermal implants?” Greere asked, seemingly innocently. He already knew the answer.
“I believe so,” said Sentinel.
“Then I’m not sure we can take the risk of ignoring this, sir. You could very well be right. If they find the device, and move again, we could lose them forever.” Greere smiled to himself. This could work out nicely. Very nicely indeed. “But if we move on them now, then it’s going to be at extreme risk for Tin and Mercury...”
~~~~~
Herat
Gulyar slid a small aluminium case along the floor under the table. “I would appreciate it back, when you are done with it,” he said deliberately.
Murat Nagpal nodded. “Manual?” he asked.
“In the case but, for the most part, it looks easy to use.” Gulyar glanced away down the street.
~~~~~
“Got you,” hissed Jack, taking several photos of the other man’s profiled face.
Nick’s voice appeared in his ear. “Say again?”
“Just getting some pictures for our photo album,” he explained.
~~~~~
“I tried it out,” Bin Imraan continued. “Switch it on, and it immediately seeks transmitting devices within a fifty metre radius. It has a small screen which shows the location of the sources, together with basic information on the type of device and level of threat.”
Nagpal nodded his understanding.
“For instance, when I tried it, it immediately picked up my cellphones, laptop, and a small radio transmitter of the type I use occasionally for monitoring my delivery vehicles.”
“You bug your own people?” Nagpal asked.
“Sometimes,” Bin Imraan replied. “Or the packages. To find out where they end up. It can, on occasion, be enlightening... Anyway, I doubt you will need the book and, like I said, it would be very useful to get this item back again.”
“I understand,” said Nagpal carefully. “If the house proves clear...”
“Which it will, you paranoid old goat” interjected Bin Imraan.
Nagpal smiled. “I am indebted to you my friend. You can have it back as soon as the house is
proved
clear,” he said, correcting himself.
“Two days then?”
“Two days should be enough,” said Nagpal, and stood to leave.
~~~~~
“They’re moving,” Jack reports into my ear. “Stay sharp.”
I click transmit once.
“It looks like a delivery of some sort,” Jack continues quietly. “Tango One is holding a small, metal, flight case.”
“He’s heading for the house,” I say as Murat Nagpal strolls into my line of sight. “I can see the case. You didn’t see him carrying it earlier, when he arrived?”
“Negative. He’s picked it up at the tea house. I have a picture of it.”
“He’s going in,” I report.
“Stay there and watch the house,” he says. “I’m going to withdraw back to the car and report this in.”
“Trouble?” I ask.
“Might be,” he says.
~~~~~
Sergei heard someone come into the house and then noisily shove the planking front door closed. Quickly he threw his textbook to one side, grabbed his pistol, and moved to the gap in the floor above the staircase.
It was Nagpal.
“You’re back early,” he called down.
Nagpal was pulling off his coat and Sergei saw him pause, glaring up at him, before he tossed the jacket onto one of the wooden chairs. “What of it?”
Sergei shrugged, placed his gun back on his bedroll, and proceeded down the stairs. “What’s that?” he asked.
In the gloomy half light, Nagpal was opening the lid of a small metal case which he’d set down on the solitary table. Inside were a mass of switches and a couple of screens. Nagpal had placed a thick booklet beside the case, and was carefully studying the electronics.
“Can I?” asked Sergei, reaching out for the thick manual.
Nagpal nodded. “Find out where the ‘on’ switch is.”
Sergei flicked through the opening pages. “Like this,” he said, offering an illustration round to his ally.
Nagpal checked the picture, returned to the case, and flicked a switch.
Several coloured lights cycled across the opened clamshell, and the screens blinked into life.
Almost immediately the case started to make loud bleeping noises.
“Is that right?” asked Sergei, alarmed at the noises.
Nagpal was standing there, staring at him, with obvious fury in his eyes.
~~~~~
London
Greere needed to rouse Ellard, but he had a job to do first. He called up a number on his phone, selected the full encryption option, and dialled it.
“Joker,” a thickly accented voice answered.
“Ace,” replied Greere. “Sky blue,” he used a formal challenge protocol.
“Sea green,” Joker replied without hesitation.
Greere nodded. His agent had responded correctly, and was clear to talk. “Sit-rep?” he demanded.
“Have moved to the new location as instructed. Awaiting further instructions.”
“Get a discrete message to our dealer friend. Indirectly. Tell him that there is a rumour something might be about to happen in your location.” Herat. “Tell him to be on alert. Possible timeline twenty-four to thirty-six hours. Tell him that the rumour suggests that it involves something which would be considered very valuable to several potential bidders.” Greere paused waiting for a response.
“Is that it?” asked his agent emotionlessly.
“Yes. For now. Remember: keep it discrete and untraceable.”
“Understood.”
~~~~~
Herat
Murat’s anger boiled over inside him. It was just as he’d suspected all along!
He stormed toward Sergei, and grabbed the younger man by the arm.
“What?” yelled Ebrahimi.
Nagpal pulled him roughly toward him. “Where is your weapon?” he shouted into the young man’s face.
“Upstairs,” replied the startled youth.
‘Good,’ thought Nagpal.
Inside the case, one of the screens displayed a series of concentric circles. One bright green dot of light shone within the roundels. He pushed Sergei hard, flinging him across the gloom toward the kitchen area, and grabbed the grip of the Makarov pistol tucked into his waistband.
“Have you gone mad?” shouted Ebrahimi as he stumbled and fell, his initial shock turning to anger. “What are you doing?”
The dot didn’t move.
Nagpal stood silent, looking at it.
Ebrahimi picked himself up off the dirty floor, and moved cautiously back to the table.
They stood for a second, studying the screen, then Ebrahimi moved back around to where he’d been originally standing, reached down, and plucked up Nagpal’s coat.
Nagpal watched him suspiciously.
Sergei reached into one of the pockets, fished Nagpal’s cellphone from it, and tossed it onto the table next to the scanner.
The green dot moved to the bullseye of the display.
There were no other signals.
Ebrahimi shook his head, threw the crumpled coat back onto the chair, turned, and stomped off back up the open staircase. “It was your cell,” the younger man said coldly.
~~~~~
Jack ghosted through the streets and back to the car, where he recovered the EMT laptop from where it was hidden, along with his small arsenal, under the rear bench seat. He inserted the camera’s MMC card into a slot on the EMT’s side, and prepared a message for his handlers.
~~~~~
Sergei kept silent for the next few hours. Now he knelt in the bedroom area, next to Murat, on one of the parallel prayer mats. He maintained perfect time and mantra alongside the other man. All around, he could hear the calming ringing sounds of devout worship. Inside, however, he churned with anger. It was clear that Nagpal was looking for any excuse to blame him for the loss of Azat and Jeyhun. Possibly even blaming him for them being stuck here in Afghanistan. Probably blaming him for the British and Turkmenistan government reactions to Murat’s horrific terror attack in London.
Sergei knew that he had to get away, somehow.
He was sure, now, that he was in as much mortal danger here, with this man, as if he just went home... And in much more danger than if he made his way back to the Caspian Sea and vanished, another nameless wanderer, into the Russian fishing fleet...
Tomorrow, Sergei decided.
In the morning.
When Nagpal left the house.
Sergei would leave too.
~~~~~
London
Ellard rubbed at his eyes. “Who’s that with Nagpal?” he muttered sleepily, staring at the pictures Tin had sent over and which were displayed on Greere’s laptop screen.
“No idea,” said Greere bluntly, hoping Ellard would not ask too many more questions about Bin Imraan. “They all look the same in their turbans and beards.”
“What’s in the flight case?”
“An unfortunate development,” Greere replied. “Seems our little friends have secured themselves a high spec scanner. Read this for me.” He pushed his main screen round so Ellard could see the reply he had drafted:
‘Eyes Only – read and delete – urgent mission instruction update – be aware: imminent and extreme risk that tracer device compromised – expecting targets to fly the nest – 2 (two) times deadly-force strike missions approved for targets Tango One and Tango Two – initiate immediately and with greatest urgency – tracer signal frequency will be set to one second intervals from next satellite pass, estimated 00:23 hours location-local – insurgent support suspected but unconfirmed – under no circumstances must targets be allowed to leave current location – good luck and Godspeed. A.’
Ellard’s eyes widened as he read the message. Then he glanced across at his boss.
Greere nodded sternly. “Sentinel has approved it. He was the one who found out that the scanner was in play.”
“Now or never then,” said Ellard bluntly. “Because when that tracer goes hot...”
“Which it will, whatever happens, sometime in the next few hours! Even if just to ping its location on its current protocol,” Greere interrupted forcefully. “Got any better suggestions?”
“No, sir,” Ellard stood up and walked round to his terminal.
Greere pressed ‘send’ and watched as the message encrypted itself and sent. “What do you reckon to their chances?”
Ellard scrunched up his face. “Fuck knows,” he said. “They might get the targets, but I’m wondering if this geezer is part of some larger local force?” Ellard prodded at the photo showing on his display. “Because, if he is, all hell’s likely to break loose.”
Greere watched him carefully. “Do you care?” he asked.
“Not really,” said Ellard. “I’m surprised they made it out of Hungary.”
“Then don’t waste time,” Greere said sharply. “It’s out of our hands now. Get the satellite signal uploaded.”
~~~~~
Herat
Jack has taken over on the rooftop and is watching the house although, to my knowledge, no-one has been or gone from it since Nagpal went inside. Jack had looked tense when he’d arrived, creeping up alongside me, under my camouflage sheet. “The mission is on,” he’d said quietly. “Brought forward. We are to move as soon as we can.”
“Reason?” I’d asked simply.
“Ace says that there’s a significant threat to the bug. We need to deal with the targets here, while we know where they are.”
“After dark?” I guessed.
He’d nodded. “Yep, get yourself kitted up, and pack your camouflage gear in your rucksack.” I’d noticed his old carrier bag was bulging, presumably with his own. “We’ll make sure we’ve got them on, over these civvy clothes, before we move.”