Matt Hilton - Blood and Ashes

But now they were back.

My next and more important thought was, had they ever been gone?

Conspiracy theorists argue about a hidden world government, giving it a fanciful title like the New World Order, but as absurd as it sounded, I feared there was some validity in it. The men sitting opposite me were living proof.

More worrying than their re-emergence was why they had chosen now to rear their heads. The men from Arrowsake wouldn’t emerge from obscurity because of a low priority threat like Carswell Hicks. These men were concerned about the overall stability of nations, primarily anything threatening the security of international finance, infrastructure and commerce, with the loss of life being tacked to their list almost as an afterthought. From what I’d learned about Hicks, he was a vicious son of a bitch suspected of a number of racially motivated murders, who’d also executed a series of bombings against financial institutions before Don Griffiths had thwarted him. If he was planning something similar now he would be palmed off on to the FBI to deal with, which explained the presence of Vince, but wouldn’t raise as much as a blip on these men’s radar. Therefore it was obvious that Hicks had stepped up dramatically and the reason for my being drafted in wasn’t to cover up a government blunder as I’d been led to believe, but to end a threat capable of rocking the entire Western world.

All I’d wanted to do was save an old friend and his family. What the hell had I got myself into this time? I looked at Rink, trying to impart my most sincere apology. My friend had followed me here through blind loyalty, and I had more than likely dragged him into more crap than either of us could possibly imagine.

My next glance was for Walter, but the man who was famous for twisting the truth to fit his own ends could only study the drips marking his floor. This was something big when even Walter was ashamed of himself for pulling us into it.

Under the gaze of the Arrowsake men I pulled to attention, not quite as formally as I once would have, but the old indoctrination was still there. Alongside me, Rink shoved his hands in his pockets in a show of nonchalance but I felt his impulse to straighten up like it was a static charge.

‘Sirs,’ was all that I could think to say to the men. At least I didn’t salute.

They nodded like sages but didn’t offer a reply. I considered their silence and recalled that though this wasn’t my first time in their presence I’d never heard any of them speak before. It looked like nothing would change now. They each stood, nodded at Walter and then filed out of a door at the back of the cabin. Engines started and then receded as the vehicles were driven away, bearing their silent occupants back to their hidden holes in the ground.

‘Why don’t you all sit down?’ Walter pulled off his cap.

‘What the hell was that all about?’ I demanded.

‘Sure wasn’t like any show and tell I’ve ever been a part of,’ Rink said. ‘If I didn’t know otherwise, I’d say we just met the three wise monkeys.’

I couldn’t find a smile for Rink’s joke; those three had seen, heard and talked more about evil than any other people on the planet.

Walter busied himself with shedding his parka and cap, now that he had no reason for going out in the rain again. He must have had to bow and scrape to the Arrowsake men when first they arrived, greeting them at their vehicles, and he hadn’t had the opportunity to get comfortable before now. The CIA controller did a good impression of Edward G. Robinson by jamming the cigar in the corner of his mouth. As ever, the cigar was unlit, but by the sheen of cold sweat on Walter’s brow he sure as hell was battling the urge to set it ablaze.

‘You got any coffee on the go, Walt?’ I asked. There was much for the old man to tell, and something strong that didn’t come from a liquor bottle wouldn’t go amiss.

‘I’ll have some made.’ Walter looked grateful for the opportunity to step out, no doubt his first opportunity to order his thoughts before we launched ourselves at him like rabid pit bulls. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d seen the black-ops man flustered by anything.

As soon as Walter was out of the way, I turned on Vince. ‘So when do you come clean, Vince? You’re no more an FBI agent than we are.’

‘Why would you come to that conclusion?’

‘First off, SAC Birnbaum didn’t get to where he is by being the whipping boy of a lowly special agent,’ I said. ‘Then there’s the fact that you’re here. You wouldn’t get to see those men’s faces without special clearance. What are you? CIA? Homeland Security? What?’

Vince thought for a second. ‘Let me throw a question back at you. Back when you were active, did you ever admit to being with Arrowsake? No, I just bet that you were Sergeant Hunter of One-Para, and Jared there was just plain old Private Rington of the Seventy-Fifth Ranger Regiment. Well, for that reason I am Special Agent Stephen Vincent of the FBI.’

‘Nothing plain about the Seventy-Fifth,’ Rink stated.

I had caught the weight of what Vince was trying to say. I stared at the young man, waiting for him to confirm the truth, and finally knew the reason for my unease on the flight here.

Vince threw up his hands. ‘OK, you’ve got me. I’m an Arrowsake alumnus, just like the two of you. Just don’t tell Walter that you got the confession from me so easily, eh?’

‘Arrowsake was demobilised.’ Even as I spoke I realised that my words held no meaning. Both Rink and I had been lied to. Following 9/11 and the change in methods employed by Western governments, the counterterrorism services had come under close scrutiny. Objections to Guantanamo Bay and then the furore following the alleged torture of prisoners in Iraq had forced rules which made the old style tactics intolerable, leading Arrowsake to be rapidly dismantled before an even greater scandal could be discovered. Rink and I, and all our colleagues, had been seen as virtual dinosaurs who had no place in the modern war on terror. Our demobilisation, I understood now, was nothing but a smokescreen, a lie.

‘ Your Arrowsake was,’ Vince confirmed. He gave a flourish like a Shakespearean actor. ‘Meet the new wave.’

Incredulous, I could only grunt. The truth had been staring me in the face for a long time now. When I thought about it, Walter seemed to have more sway than even a CIA sub-division controller should have. He had the ear of presidents and prime ministers, and had manipulated even the decisions of the US Secretary of State before now. Arrowsake hadn’t died; it had simply been buried even deeper than before — at the expense of the men who’d fought loyally for it in the past. Rink and I had been kicked loose to give way to younger hotshots like Stephen Vincent.

‘This is bullshit!’ Rink looked ready to go on a rampage.

I couldn’t have agreed more. For almost five years since we’d been cut loose I’d drifted, feeling like there was a huge hole in my life. The rift had destroyed my marriage, destroyed some of my humanity when considering what I’d become, and for no other reason than that we’d been treated like garbage to be disposed of before we became an embarrassment.

Rink jabbed a finger at Vince. ‘You ain’t part of us, boy. Never will be.’

Vince shrugged. ‘Don’t want to be, Rink. You’re old timers now. No insult intended.’

‘No fucking insult…’

I grabbed Rink, told him to take it easy. Rink snarled at Vince over my shoulder. ‘That little punk thinks he’s a better man than we are, Joe! Just give me a couple seconds an’ I’ll show him the truth.’

Vince straightened up. ‘Maybe you won’t find me so easy, Rink. I did all right with your buddy. Right, Hunter?’