Tom Clancy - Command Authority

Basil acknowledged this with a nod and said, “One would think so, yes.”

“There was some interagency rivalry?”

“Something like that. MI5’s investigations occasionally led them into denied territory. Oxley bridged the gap in these investigations. He could go to Riga to get pictures of a British turncoat living there, he could go to Sofia to track down reports of a Bulgarian intelligence training evolution that taught their spies how to fit in on the streets of London, he could go to East Berlin and find the name of the bar where Stasi director Erich Mielke liked to take lunch meetings, so if a highly placed British double agent slipped over to be recruited by the DDR’s top dog, we knew where to look for him.”

The rain on the windows of the library picked up a little.

“Occasionally, he was tasked with doing more than this. From time to time he was ordered to find counterintelligence threats—I’m speaking of citizens of the Crown who committed treasonous acts and then ran for cover behind the Curtain—and then to liquidate them.”

Ryan was impressed. “Liquidate?”

Basil looked at Ryan without blinking. “Kill them, of course.”

“That’s incredible.”

“They say Oxley was quite incredible in his day. MI5 recruited him from the military and trained him up for their needs. He had language—one of his parents was full-on Russian, so he spoke it like a native—and he had the skills and the stones for behind-the-lines work. He was extremely good. He hopped the border better than anyone we had in our service at the time.”

Basil added, “I don’t suppose you know too much about the history of the British intelligence services, but we’ve had some traitors in the past, right at the top of our establishment.”

“The Cambridge Five,” Jack said.

“There was worry that there were more than five. For that reason, it was determined a British asset behind the lines would help keep the men and women in British intelligence honest. If some bloke passed official secrets to KGB and then ran off to Moscow to receive their Order of Lenin and a rent-free flat, chaps at the top of MI5 thought it would have a salutary effect on other UK intelligence personnel if that bloke turned up garroted in a public loo in Gorky Park.”

“Holy shit,” Ryan said. This story was much more than he’d bargained for when he popped over to a luxury town house to talk to an old man about a penciled note on an old file.

“My colleagues at MI5 played him close to the vest. He was run outside the normal chain of command, so very few knew Bedrock existed.” Charleston gave a half-smile. “There was a rumor Five had a hit man cleaning up intelligence messes, and the spread of the rumor was intentional, but almost no one knew if there was any truth to it. His control officer let Bedrock act as he saw fit, to work without a net, as it were.”

Jack was more fascinated by this than he let on. “This man had a license to kill?”

“He had no license at all. He knew he would be disavowed if he were ever caught.”

“Do you remember Bedrock’s relationship to the victims of the Zenith murders?”

Charleston shook his head. With his reticence in talking about Bedrock, Jack had started to look for any clues of deception. As far as he could tell, the old man was being truthful. His hesitations seemed to simply be born out of not thinking of this topic for a long time, and perhaps not being proud of whatever happened with Bedrock.

Charleston said, “As I said before, there was no Zenith.”

“But you wrote Bedrock was picked up at the scene of one of the Zenith murders.”

“No, lad. I didn’t write that.”

Jack raised his eyebrows.

“How can I be so certain? Because I knew nothing of Bedrock at the time, and I would never write Bedrock’s name down. I don’t know who wrote that. Obviously, these files have been around for thirty years. Someone, at some point, looked it over and made that notation. They also removed it, although not successfully. I assume it was someone at MI5 read in on the program, but I cannot be certain.” Basil looked at it again. “I don’t know anything about Bedrock being in Switzerland on this date. As far as I knew, he never worked west of the Iron Curtain.”

“Did Oxley know my father?”

Charleston barked out a quick laugh. “Heavens, no. Certainly not. They would have run in quite different circles. Even if Bedrock was in London for some reason, and I have no recollection that he was, he would not have bumped into your father at Century House. No, Oxley would have had no connection with Westminster Bridge.”

“You said you didn’t know about him at the time. When did you learn about him?”

“When MI5 came to me for help finding him. He disappeared behind the lines. I do recall that happened to be during the so-called Zenith affair.”

“Was he ever found?”

“I don’t know. Certainly not by MI6.”

“You don’t know if he is alive?”

“No, but I also don’t know that he’s not, and my bodyguard out there—you met Phillip—operates under the assumption that he is.”

“What does your bodyguard have to do with Oxley?”

“Phillip has orders to keep Victor Oxley away from me.” Charleston gazed out to the rain again. “One must be on the watch for anyone who might hold a grudge against those who directed British intelligence. Again, we looked for him… but we did not find him. There are chaps that might think we didn’t look hard enough.”

Ryan was wondering the same thing. Did they look hard enough for this missing man? He couldn’t imagine anyone finding fault with the polite urbane man sitting across the table from him. He tried to picture Charleston younger and in control of one of the world’s toughest intelligence agencies, but he couldn’t get the image right in his mind.

Jack asked, “Do you know how I can find out if he ever returned from the East? Does someone keep records on former MI5 members?”

“On MI5 members, yes, but remember, Bedrock was run black, outside their service.” Charleston thought. “He was SAS, though, and they have a fraternal organization.” Charleston sipped his tea. “Although I can’t imagine him taking part in meetings or attending banquets. I’d wager he dropped off their radar long ago, if he is even still alive.”

“Do you remember anyone he worked with? Someone I might be able to talk to?”

There was an extra-long pause now. But Charleston’s response was more revealing than anything else he had said in the entire conversation. “I am afraid I won’t be much help there.”

Jack noted Charleston’s word choice. He did know associates, but he either could not or would not put Jack in touch with them.

Jack said, “I’ll start with SAS, see if anyone knows where he is now.”

Charleston picked at the lint on his blazer. “Your father sent you round to my house to talk to me about Bedrock. It was a nice gesture to send family over. I don’t believe for a moment, however, that your father had any intention of you running around yourself looking for worn-out old ghosts.”

Jack asked, “What are you saying?”

Sir Basil smiled, a fatherly look. “Report back to your dad what I told you, he’ll have his people make inquiries through Scotland Yard. Don’t do anything yourself.”

“Do you mean to suggest Victor Oxley is somehow dangerous?”

“Presuming for a moment he is alive, and you do find him, then yes, I do. Blokes like Bedrock do not like authority, nor do they respect it. You popping round for a spot of tea and an interrogation about old operations… that will not go the way you hope it might.”

“What you are talking about happened a long time ago, Sir Basil. He’s probably over it.”