Richard Wiseman - To Kill Or Be Killed

“I have bad news I’m afraid. I’ve heard about a meeting at number ten between the P. M and the Home office minister Tarquin Robinson. The P. M has decided that DIC active duty rota teams are to be stood down and arms bearing and diplomatic rights are to be suspended pending an investigation…”

There was a series of exasperated and angry comments from the team and Jack held his hand up. Silence followed.

“The home office minister is concerned about mistakes made and use of DIC information and identity passes to access Downing Street. There’s to be an investigation”

There were no remarks after this. Each of the team knew that the assassin had got in on their watch. They had all seen the news footage and thanked God that the bomb hadn’t gone off properly.

“The thing is that it may be a plot to discredit us. We’ve got this tape and it does show a link between Robinson and Sternway.” Jack fiddled with the mouse pad and the file played clearly in the room.

“You’re a lovely lady Mrs Robinson and people like you do scare me a little, but you tell Tarquin that it will happen in the next hour, as arranged, and if he doesn’t show some backbone he’ll regret it.“

“That’s it then. This links Robinson to Sternway. They planned to have the P.M. killed and they can cover it up. They’re just trying to blame us and take the heat off themselves. You need to take this to the P. M!” David was very excited, animated and not a little angry.

“David this only tenuously links the men, it doesn’t constitute cast iron proof. I wish it did, but it doesn’t. I will play it to the P.M. at my meeting with him and Robinson at eight tonight, but you must expect our service to be rendered inactive until this has been fully investigated.”

McKie rose from his chair.

“For the love of God Jack can’t you see Robinson and Sternway are linked and that means they might have engineered Cole’s death to put Robinson in place.”

“David you need to be careful what you say. It’s an obvious notion, but there’s no proof.” Diane’s voice was soothing she knew how he felt.

“There’s a trail of dead bodies, innocent dead I might add, and you say there’s no proof. We need to confront them. They must pay for this!” David’s voice wasn’t a shout, but a loud firm imperative tone made his anger clear.

“It will be done by investigation David.” Diane said quietly

“They’ll fudge that and it’ll take years and in the meantime DIC won’t be watching them.” David slapped his forehead. “Of course! That’s what they want! Can’t you see?”

Jack ignored the remark. He had had the thought himself, but had no way to prove it. He needed to end the meeting and plan for eight O clock meeting at Downing Street.

“I’ll need you to take your weapons to the armoury before you leave the building. It’s late tonight so I suggest you stop over and end your duty rota time tomorrow.”

“That’s it? That’s all?” David looked around exasperated.” Dear God are we not going to make a fight of this? We’re just going to quietly fold?”

He pushed back his chair and headed for the door.

“David…” Jack spoke as David reached the door and opened it, McKie paused. “Calm down. We’ll sort this out. I know you’re angry, but don’t do anything rash.”

“No I won’t Jack. I think about everything very carefully before I act. That’s why you hired me. Brains not brawn remember.” David left the room.

All the other team members looked at each other in concern for David.

“I can’t blame him for being angry, but we have to do this carefully and within the rule of law.” Diane spoke to the remaining team members. “Clear?”

They all nodded and the meeting broke up. Diane stayed behind to talk tactics for the eight O clock meeting with the P.M. and Robinson.

In the duty team kitchen David McKie made a coffee and looked out over London. His eyes were hard and showed a process of mental calculation in their occasional flickers from the sky line to the kettle. By the time his coffee was made up so was his mind. He took the lift down to his duty team office. He was damned if they’d get away with all this on his watch. He picked up the phone.

“Hello decryption? It’s David McKie. I’ve got a job for you.”

MI6Safe House

London

6-10 p.m.

April 19th

Stanton started to come round. He’d walked into the house, one man in front and one behind. He’d been hit on the back of the head and had fallen forwards into a hard blackness.

It was a bare room. Stanton went to rise and found that he couldn’t move. He was tied by his arms and legs to a wooden dining chair. His arms were behind his back, each arm tied at the wrist to each upright support of the chair. The back of his head ached.

Looking around the room, which was in half light with curtains closed, he could see a musty green carpet, dust all around him and in the corner a table. He could hear voices in the distance. On the table was the laptop case with the Browning pistol and scooped out laptop inside. Next to that was the Sig220 in its holster and Bill’s beige coat.

Stanton listened carefully. There was no sound of traffic, but he could hear distant voices. The voices began to approach, coming it seemed up towards him; he was upstairs somewhere.

He’d been betrayed and he knew it. Used and betrayed. He gathered himself for a session of torture, but he wasn’t sure what he knew that they wanted to know. He ran his mind over the last few days. It hadn’t been a real bomb of that he was sure. They seemed interested in the information about the DIC and very happy about the disk. He realised that he and the others had been used. They probably wanted any last scraps of information he had.

These people had wanted to get DIC in the open. Stanton knew that he’d exceeded their expectations. Spencer had known DIC existed and he’d worked for MI6, so UK security services knew DIC existed, but Spencer had said they weren’t able to identify who and where. These people weren’t out to get the Prime Minister, it had been a lure and he and the other, now dead assassins had been bait.

Two men entered the room, Brook and Telford. Brook had his jacket off and Stanton saw a waist band holster with a snub nose Smith and Wesson 38 ‘Night Guard revolver. He’d knocked off at least two MI6 agents in his work for various groups around the world, groups trying to avoid the scrutiny of British Secret Service.

Telford was unarmed.

Brook saw the look on Stanton’s face a, look of understanding.

“That’s right Stanton. MI6. I can see you understand now.”

“I take it I don’t get my million pounds and safe exit then.”

Brook laughed and then a third man entered the room. He was a tall thin snake like man and he carried a chair and a big black square bag made of faded and worn leather.

Stanton eyed him warily and Joe looked at Stanton with eyes that Stanton felt looked right into him. Joe put the chair and the bag down and sat in front of Stanton.

“We want to know everything you learnt about DIC, everything you saw on the computer.”

“It’s all on the disk.”

“There might be more in that head of yours.” Joe leant forward and tapped Stanton’s head with his for finger.

“I didn’t see much at all.”

“No? Well I need to be sure.”

Joe looked at Telford who opened the bag and took out a piece of equipment. There were pads and wires and brown wooden box with a dial. Telford walked over to the wall and plugged in the long lead.

Stanton braced himself. Electric shock torture! He’d take a few ‘shots’ and make up some stuff. He ran images and information from the DIC network through his mind, trying to pick out useful stuff.