Ryan, Chris - Zero 22

The manager gave him an ‘I hope you’re right’ kind of smile. Over his shoulder, Hunter saw Cunningham raise an eyebrow. He ignored it. ‘Take me to the service lift,’ Hunter said. He picked up the canvas bag of engineer’s tools.

The manager led him back out into the car park. The tyre screech of a departing vehicle faded away. Their footsteps echoed against the concrete walls as they walked across to a far corner of the space. Here, tucked away next to another fire exit, was the service lift. A sign read ‘Staff Only’. There was a single button next to the doors and beneath it was a keyhole. The manager produced a sizeable bunch of keys and selected one. He slotted it into the keyhole and turned it. Then he pressed the button to call the lift. Thirty seconds later, the doors opened and the empty car presented itself.

Hunter looked back across the car park. Parsons was standing outside the fire door, watching for his signal. Hunter double-checked there was nobody else around – it looked clear – then gave Parsons the thumbs up. ‘Keep the doors open,’ he told the manager, and he stepped inside the lift. There was enough space for twenty people inside. Its metal walls were scuffed where trolleys had bashed into them. Hunter looked up. As expected, there was a detachable panel in the ceiling. No latch. They just needed to push it up and they would be able to gain access to the top of the lift.

The others arrived: Cunningham, Hobbs and Moore in their civvies. Parsons in his BT uniform. They entered the lift. Moore gave Cunningham a leg up so that he could reach the ceiling panel. Cunningham lifted the panel up and moved it to one side. Then he hauled himself up through the hole and on to the top of the lift. Hunter helped Moore and Hobbs follow him up there. Within thirty seconds the three balaclavad men were out of sight, the detachable panel back in place. Hunter and Parsons were inside the lift alone. The manager was still standing nervously outside. ‘Okay, buddy,’ Hunter said. ‘Get inside. We can close the doors. Let’s take her up to the penthouse.’

The manager swallowed hard and blinked again. He removed the key, stepped into the lift and looked up. ‘Won’t they be crushed when we reach the top?’

Hunter shook his head. ‘There’s always headroom,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’

The manager inhaled deeply and pressed the button marked ‘P’.

Danny checked the time. 18.20 hrs. No sign of the General. He should have been here twenty minutes ago. He slowly sipped his water. The bar was filling up – there were thirty or forty people in here now – and Danny was anxious. Would they have to go looking for the guy? He still had line of sight to Bethany, but occasionally some hotel guests would get in the way and he’d lose visual contact. Each time that happened, he experienced a twinge of apprehension. Did he trust Bethany to go through with this, even if they found the General? He didn’t know.

Movement by the entrance at the end of the bar. Four men walked in. Three of them were in camouflage gear. The fourth wore civvies, but it was clear from his demeanour that he had authority over the others, who walked slightly behind him and with the faint stiffness of gait that Danny recognised as soldiers in the presence of their superior. Danny subtly examined the man in civvies. He was well built and had a deep perma-tan. Silver hair, twinkling eyes. A good-looking man, and a face Danny recognised not only from his target pack, but also from the CCTV still Sturrock and the others had shown him back in Hereford. In that still, the man had been wearing a straw trilby and flamboyant shirt. Here, he was more soberly dressed. His shirt was a pale pink which, to Danny, suggested his flamboyant nature hadn’t quite deserted him. A sport jacket. Chinos. For some reason, Danny found himself noticing the General’s shoes: expensive brown brogues, very shiny. The whole ensemble was a direct contrast to the camo gear of the soldiers surrounding him and elsewhere in and around the hotel. It was unmistakably General O’Brien, and he was unmistakably different to any top brass Danny had met before. At a glance, Danny could see that there was something unusually easy-going about him. He seemed relaxed, like a wealthy man on a golfing holiday. He turned to speak to his three men and clasped one of them on the shoulder – an unheard-of gesture in Danny’s world between men of such different ranks. The three men laughed at whatever it was he said, then left the room chatting to each other. The General remained at the bar, alone. He took a stool and sat with his back to Danny, who could see him raise a finger to attract the attention of one of the barmen and instinctively made a mental note that he was right-handed.

Danny glanced over at Bethany. She hadn’t moved. She didn’t even seem to have noticed the General’s arrival. Danny hoped she was just playing it cool.

He pulled out his phone and made a show of playing with it. In reality, he was simply swiping icons while surreptitiously keeping eyes on the room. A corner of his mind was analysing everything he’d seen. Something about the General didn’t seem right. The civvies, the easy-going nature. Danny had met top military guys like this before, and they were all the same: army through and through, straight as the barrel of an assault rifle and twice as threatening. But then it occurred to him that perhaps this easy-going nature was precisely the character trait that made him so suited to this job of brokering peace between warring factions. The world expected him to be the point man at talks that could cause or save any number of lives in the region. Sturrock expected him to be secretly planning to sabotage those talks, but this outward show of relaxation and friendliness was a good way of confirming his quiet self-confidence. Maybe he cultivated it to distract anyone and everyone from the truth.

Or maybe he just didn’t care about what he was doing. About the things he had done.

Danny remembered the Zero 22 patrol. His mates, dead within moments of the Russian ambush. The twisted hunks of metal smouldering on the wasteland of the bomb site. A bitter taste rose in the back of his throat. None of that would have happened had it not been for the man at the bar in front of him. His mates would still be alive. It was all Danny could do to stop himself rising from his chair and dealing with the bastard himself.

But he remained seated and sipped his water again. Bethany had stood up. She walked across the room, weaving her way around the tables, avoiding all eye contact with Danny. He was reminded once more what a skilful actress she was. Her body language had changed again. Her hips sashayed appealingly. A tendril of blonde hair tumbled across the side of her face. Her lips seemed somehow fuller than earlier. Hotel guests – male and female – watched her as she passed. Bethany approached the bar, but not the General. He still had his back to her and was being presented with a cocktail. As Danny reflected that this was the first time he’d ever seen a military man order anything other than a beer or a shot, Bethany continued walking along the bar. She sat next to another guy. He had dark skin and wore a business suit. Probably a local , Danny thought. There was an orange juice on the bar in front of him.

Bethany didn’t strike up a conversation. She gestured at one of the bartenders, but he was already hurrying to serve her. He leaned, in a deliberately nonchalant way, against the bar as he took her order. Bethany was plainly having the desired effect on the men around her. She ordered a drink and looked pointedly away. The bartender flinched at the rejection before pouring her a glass of champagne. By now, the local man in the suit had noticed her. He swivelled on his chair and started making conversation. There was no way Danny could hear what the guy was saying at this distance, but he could see Bethany’s reflection in the mirror behind the bar. It was a study in boredom. She was by some distance the most attractive woman of the fifteen or so in the room, but also the least accessible. A challenge to any alpha male in the vicinity.