Deadly States (Seaforth Files by Nicholas P Clark Book 2) (33 page)

this was a much worse outcome than a runaway politician—at least
the politician could always
be voted
out if a smear campaign was
mounted against them.

The celebrity had no such fear, andwith thosewho thrived on controversy, such as the punks andanarchists of the seventies and eighties,
dirty tricks
only seemed to add to their personality, and in turn, to
their popularity. There were also only so many drugs
overdoses and
suicides that the secret services could get away with before they drew
too much attention. The Britain of the 60s right through to the early
90s was no place for a celebrity with a strong socialist agenda.
And
so, during those strange and dark decades the greatest democracy the
world had ever known was little more than a cheap facade. It wasn’t
the first time that the country had flirted with a subtle form of dictatorship; but at least when Winston Churchill and his war cabinet took
the country into authoritarian rule they did so to save it from the Nazis,
and they did so knowing that once the war was won then democracy
would be quickly restored. Had those noble men known the kind
of
limited democracy that would take over and persist for more than
fifty years would they perhaps have continued the fight against dictators, only this time turning their fury against those living in Britain?
Jack had been summoned to the house at short notice on a hot
summer’s night seven years
before South
Africa. There had always
been rumours about the place; some said that wayward spies went
there to be executed, while others insisted that they knew someone
who knew someonewho said that people weretorturedat the house—
and not just ordinary people, but people from the television or from
the houses
of Commons and Lords. They were good scary
bedtime
stories to tell junior spies to help keep them in their place, but Jack
was much too pragmatic and grown up to ever fall for such nonsense.
At worst heimagined the place was nothing more than a gloried country club where the old world charms of Empire were still observed and
red cheeked footmen waited silently at the side of great rooms to attend to the every need of their unworthy masters. In Jack’s minds it
was nothing more than a big boys’ club, funded by the taxpayer and
beyond all scrutiny; not least the scrutiny
of the members’ wives. In
many respects Jack would have preferred to be tortured rather than
having to suffer the chinless wittering of a bunch of public

When Jack arrived at the house he was relieved to find that there
were no footmen,
or
butlers, and almost
everyone spoke with a regional accent—although a regional accent was no guarantee that an
individual would not
be pretentious and have an
over inflated sense
of
entitlement, Jack could somehow
endure it with much better grace
than if the accent was upper class, or forced upper class in the case of
the offspring
of new
money. There was absolutely nothing about the
house that met with Jack’s expectations and the more that he learned
about the place the
more he wondered why they
had gone to such
bother to
maintain it in the first
place. Nothing seemed to happen
there that could not be carried out in a dozen other places for a fraction of the cost. It was almost twenty four hours from the time of the
urgent summons until Jack was finally informed why he was there.

Ireland again. Like a typecast actor Jack was beginning to wonder
if the only thing that he would ever be remembered for was his time in
Ireland. The mission that he was being asked to carry
out was odd but
it was exciting. More than exciting; it was worthy. It was something
that he could actually
be proud
of,
even if it was something that he
would never be able to talk about.
After decades of trying and dozens
of false starts, the Republican movement was finally
on the brink of
talking seriously to the British government.
Although both sides had
much to gain from the talks,
both sides also had a hell
of a lot that
they could potentially lose, with the Republican leadership facing the
biggest loss should the talks not go the right way—failure amongst
Republicans normally resulted in a bullet to the back of the head and
having your
body
dumped in a shallow grave in some mountainous
area. For the government’s part they could always spin the talks in a
very positive way regardless of the outcome—just one more serving of
bullshit that the public would cheerfully swallow down whole.

The daydream vanished as a cramp shot
down his left leg.
After
almost ten
minutes Jack
made a
decision. He
planned to come
out
from his hiding place to take the man out—in a non-lethal way if the
man was sensible; but if he wasn’t prepared to accommodate Jack then
lethal force would be used. Jack shuffled to the side of the bed that was
furthest away from where the man was sitting at his desk. As Jack was
about to get to his feet someone knocked on the bedroom door.

The man sighed and he got to his feet. Jack dragged himself back into
his hiding place.

“We found him
out cold
on the East side
of the compound,” said
one of the men.
“There,” said the man who let them into his room.
“We can assume that it’s Malaney,” said the man at the door as he
helped the guard who Jack
knocked
out, into the room. He set the
guard down on the edge of the bed.
“I can take it from here,” said the other man.
The guardleft.
“How are you feeling?” asked the man.
“Sore, but I’ll live,” said the guard.
“Malaney is a highly trained killer and he is out to kill anyone who
gets in his way. You are very lucky to be alive,” said the man.
The voice was familiar but from his position
on the floor, with a
thick mattress
muffling the sound, it took Jack a
moment
or two to
work out why. When the man spoke again there was no room for uncertainty. It was Deeley.
“Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?” asked Deeley.
“No
sir. I thought that everything was clear in that area. When I
was heading back to the main building he jumped me.”
“Goodness, that was a stroke of
bad luck. Though if you had got
in his way then you would be lying dead out there under the stars. I
just a have a few
more questions and then you can go and get some
rest. Unless Malaney is in the building and we need another gun to
take him down.”
“I’ll do my best sir.”
“I’m sure you will soldier. I’m sure you will. So tell me, who trained
you?”
“Sir?”
“You are here because you are the best that the services have to offer. So, who trained you?”
“I was trained by many instructors, sir. Did you have any particular discipline in mind?”
“Not really. I was just wondering how someone like Malaney could
get past someone as lethal as you.”
“I guess he was just lucky sir.”
“Very lucky, I would say. Either way I am going to have to ask you
to turn over your weapon until this matter has been investigated.”
“Sir?”
“You heard me soldier. Hand me your sidearm. Until a full investigation has been carried out, you are suspended.”
There was a short pause followed by some shuffling.
“Thank you,” Deeley said.
Deeley checked the weapon.
“I can forgive almost
everything except for two things. Treachery
and incompetence.”
“I don’t understand sir.”
“Well then,
let
me spell
it
out
for you.
You are
either
helping
Malaney
or you
don’t know how to do your job. Either way, it’s over
for you.”
“Sir?”
Jack almost banged his head on the underside of the bed when the
shot rang out. The guard’s lifeless body hit the ground in front of Jack.
The dead man was facing Jack. A small trickle of blood ran from a bullet hole in the centre of his forehead. Deeley walked calmly across the
room and he opened the door to two guards who had been alerted by
the sound of the gun discharging.
“This one was helping Malaney,” Deeley said. “I want this building
searched from top to bottom until he is found and killed. If he can get to
someone this close to the Ambassador then he can get to anyone. If any
guard hesitates for a moment
if they
have him in their sights then I
want you to consider that guard a target as well. In over thirty years
protecting this country’s diplomats I have not lost a single charge, and
that is not going to change here tonight. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes sir,” said the guards, in unison.
“And have someone clean up this
mess.
Once I
have checked on
the
Ambassador and you have dealt with Malaney, I will be retiring
for the night. It has been a long day and I for one will be glad to see
the back of it.”
Deeley’s reference to the guard was dismissive, as if he was talking
about an inconvenient sack of rubbish rather than a human being.
“Right away sir,” said one of the guards.
All three then left the room. Jack looked into the dead eyes
of the
young man in front
of him. Those lifeless
orbs, full
of shock and be

trayal, were further
motivation to Jack, though no more motivation
was needed. He would get to Deeley and find out what sick game he
was playing. And once he had an answer, he would end him.