Dominic Conlon - Arctic Firepath

Sir Anthony was a senior civil servant connected with the Section. Sean wasn’t sure about the exact nature of the relationship, and rarely encountered him in the department. However his presence indicated something big was occurring.

‘Has Khostov given you the goods?’

‘Yes. It turns out that while he was staying in London with Yakov Petrovich, he left the documents in a kind of monument in the garden. It’s where the family used to bury their dogs and other pets. So the Russian gang sent to find Khostov were probably within yards of the information they were looking for.’

‘I appreciate it’s early days Sir Anthony. But are they as valuable as we thought they might be?’

‘Hard to say Sean. Translation experts are studying them, and then we’ll gain some political insight into what they can tell us.’

‘And Lomax?’

‘We’re working on that.’

‘You appreciate he baited the trap himself, so I could get to Levushka.’

‘I’m aware of that,’ replied Sir Anthony testily. ‘I’ve got a sizable section of the Foreign Office on his case. We’re trying to arrange a spy swap.’

‘I saw him go down’, Sean replied. ‘Do you know how he is?’

Sir Anthony sighed. ‘Sorry to bark at you like that; we’re all under a lot of stress here. No, we don’t have any info on his condition. But you can be sure we’ll keep the pressure up to get him repatriated.’

‘OK.’ Sean lent back in the chair. ‘I guess there’s nothing more you can do.’

Sir Anthony shook his head. ‘I wish I had better news..’.

‘So I’m done?’

Sir Anthony cleared his throat. ‘Not quite.’ He observed the concern on Sean’s face. ‘I understand the Section has asked a lot from you, and you have delivered everything we wanted.’

‘There’s always a but.’

Sir Anthony dipped his head in acknowledgement. ‘I don’t feel I have any right to ask for anything more, so you are free to withdraw at this point.’

Sean sat back, stunned. He had never been given the option to withdraw from a mission when there was obviously still something left to achieve.

‘I can’t ask you.’ Sir Anthony glanced at his watch. ‘But there is someone I want you to talk to.’ He picked up the desk telephone and spoke into it. ‘Is everything ready? Right, put him through.’

He handed the phone to Sean.

‘Leader-one to base.’

‘Receiving.’

‘We are on approach. Please confirm you are prepared for us.’

‘We are ready, Leader-one. Runway is lit. Keep strictly to the airstrip as we have ice fragmentation either side.’

Two of the Russian bombs had blown holes in the ice half a kilometre away. The displacement caused fissures to appear, dangerously close to the steel matting that formed the landing strip.

The first F-35 Lightning II warplane lined up for approach, powered down the glide path and landed without a bump. The plane continued to taxi to the end where the waiting ground crew signalled the pilot to a cleared area. Leader-one spooled down his jet and went through the landing check-list. He got out in time to see Leader-two come into land. Undoing his helmet, he waited until the second pilot finished his post-flight checks.

‘Freeze your nuts here.’

‘Another day in paradise Jimmy.’

They were shown to the nearest hut where the door was being held open. They were blown in by a squall.

Leader-one waved a nonchalant salute to the base commander.

‘We thought there would be more than just two planes. Where are you fly-boys from?’

‘Elmendorf AFB, sir. We’re the spearhead for the 90th Fighter Squadron. We’re expecting two squadrons of warplanes as soon as we can get enough KC-135 tankers up.’

‘I heard your Lightnings were dogged by technical issues recently. Something to do with an engine blade problem?’

Leader-one waved the remark away. ‘Dealt with a long time ago, sir. We got you some real firepower now. What do you want to do with us?’

‘I want six aircraft in the air at all times. Rotate off the runway. I want the rest on three shifts, so we can put 20 or more jets up on five minutes’ notice.’

Leader-one raised an eyebrow.

The commander noticed, but said nothing.

‘Mission orders sir?’

‘You are to protect and defend this base and the icebreaker. We’re expecting some company. I hope you boys are up to a little rough and tumble?’

‘You bet, sir. We’ve not come all this way just to chill out, pardon the pun sir.’

Sean settled into the cream leather seat of the BAe HS125 jet, and Alexei sat opposite.

‘How did they treat you?’ Sean was curious to find out if anyone had removed the kid gloves during his de-briefing.

‘Your people have been very kind to me.’ Alexei Khostov bowed his head, revealing an unruly head of silver hair. ‘I know you were instrumental in bringing back my son.’

Sean looked through the oval window as the green fields receded below. ‘It cost us a good man.’

‘You must believe I am very grateful. I thought I might never see Levushka again.’

‘You might not see him again.’

The aircraft began to level out. They were flying to RAF Lossiemouth in Moray, Scotland. While they were in the air another transport aircraft based at RAF Brize Norton was also on-route to Lossiemouth, for their onward flight.

Khostov looked directly into Sean’s eyes. ‘It is enough he is safe in England.’ His gaze was so intense Sean could feel the raw intellectual power of the man, as though he was examining his conscience and motives.

‘He was safe in Russia.’

‘But we would not have had the brief time we had together. Is that not more important?’

At that moment Sean could not help thinking about Natasha. How many brief moments had they shared together?

‘For you?’

‘No, for both of us.’

The conversation lapsed. In the silence Sean recalled the moment he took the phone call Sir Anthony had arranged. As soon as he heard the voice Sean knew it was the Foreign Secretary, Howard Stern, head of British security services. In Sean’s extensive experience with the Section he had never known an agent having a dialogue with someone at that level. He should be honoured, but in reality he only felt tired.

The conversation began well. After the usual pleasantries Stern had commented on Sean’s previous mission. ‘I was astonished at what you achieved in the States. You not only helped to prevent an escalation of hostilities between the US and Russia, but managed to retrieved a huge cache of hi-tech American hardware.’

But Sean had experienced this type of flattery before. ‘I had help.’

‘I think you are doing yourself a disservice. I know it wasn’t a single-handed operation, but I must say just how impressed I was that you and the team carried it off.’

‘The Executive on that mission is currently undergoing torture in a Russian cell. I hope you will do everything to get him out.’

‘Of course. We are doing our best. You have my word on that.’

For once the sincerity in his voice overcame Sean’s natural cynicism. ‘What do you want?’

‘I need to fill you in on the bigger picture. Then you will understand what I am going to ask you to do.’

Howard Stern briefed Sean on the background of Russia’s declining income from oil and America’s ambitions for the high north. ‘Are you aware of the recent events in the Arctic, Sean?’

‘No. I’ve been busy.’

Stern chuckled and briefly sketched in developments. ‘Your assignment may impinge on the politics of the situation. The PM is meeting his American and Russian counterparts tomorrow as part of the annual energy summit. He perceives an opportunity to broker private peace talks between the two countries, so each can save face. But in order to get them to a private session he needs a lever. This is where you come in.’