The Fine Line of Revenge (2 page)

'Thank you,’ Sarah kissed her mother on the cheek, hugging her, causing her to lose her balance.  ‘It’s wonderful.’

‘Well, put it on then.’ She placed it on her wrist, her mother helping her with the fastener.  A man’s voice bellowed from outside.

‘It’s here, come on.’  Both women composed themselves and subsequently made their way outside to where the white, modern chariot was waiting, its engine humming sweetly. A well dressed, deeply tanned chauffeur stood with the back door ajar. A welcoming smile beamed from his professional face revealing his extremely white teeth.

‘Good afternoon.  It looks as if you will be having a fine day for your wedding.’

‘It certainly looks that way,’ Sarah said, scooping up her dress and stepping into the spacious rear of the car, followed closely by her proud parents.  The cheerful chauffeur shut the door securely, put on his grey chauffeur’s cap and made his way to his seat.  He drove off slowly, his cargo suddenly silent, as the reality of the special day had finally hit them.

The ceremony had run smoothly and everything had gone according to plan.  The wedding breakfast food had been excellent and it was now time for the best man’s speech.  It was a moment in time that Jack had been dreading. It was the moment that he had no control over.  It was a moment that would in fact surprise him.

‘I have been close to this man for many years,’ Alex began, ‘I could stand here and tell you many, many embarrassing moments involving Jack, but I won’t.  Instead I stand here today honoured to be given the opportunity to raise a glass to the best friend a guy could have and I’m sure Sarah would agree the best person for the job as husband and, if the occasion should ever arise, father.  He remains the same dependant and sincere man since the day we met.  Please join me in wishing Jack and Sarah all the happiness in the world and a future full of dreams that all come true.’  The congregation raised their glasses, toasting the couple.  Sarah wiped away a tear from her eye with her napkin and turned to Jack.

‘That was very impressive,’ she announced.

‘He never fails to surprise me,’ Jack said, offering a little more Rioja to Sarah’s glass before filling his own with its smooth, red tone.

With the speeches over and the coffee served, it was time for the guests to socialize before the next stage, the wedding reception.

The band was still setting up as Jack and Alex stood at the bar, both sipping on a single malt scotch.

‘I have to be honest; I wasn’t looking forward to your speech Alex, but thanks.

‘I spoke from the heart, it doesn’t happen often,’ Alex replied, attempting to hide his pride with sarcasm.  The room’s activities were silenced as the band struck a few notes.  The interruption was followed by an announcement for the first dance.  Jack wasn’t too fond of this tradition and feared the worst as Sarah had kept the song a secret.  But as the upbeat tune of The Little Angels, Too Much Too Young filled the air.  Jack smiled, remembering when they first heard it together.  Sarah grabbed him from the bar, Alex in turn, grabbing Jack’s drink.

‘I can’t thank you enough,’ Jack whispered in Sarah’s ear.

‘It can’t all be traditional, this brings back one of my fondest memories with you.’  They danced for a minute before beckoning others on to the floor.  The floor filled quickly, the loving couple surrounded by close friends and family.  Alex tapped Jack on his shoulder and asked to cut in.  Jack happily stood aside and smiled only to be grabbed by Sarah’s dotty, old aunt for her interpretation of dancing.  Sarah kissed Alex on the cheek.

‘What was that for?’ he asked, a puzzled look on his face.

‘Jack is lucky to have you as a friend, Alex’.

‘He’s a good man, Sarah, the best.’  Across Sarah’s shoulder was a tall leggy blonde waving from the bar.  She winked at Alex, beckoning him over with her index finger, her bright red nail varnish glimmering under the lights.

‘I’m going to hand you back to Jack, I feel I’m hogging you.’  Alex grabbed Jack and pushed them back together and wandered gleefully back to the bar, placing his arm around the blonde.  Jack and Sarah looked in amazement and laughed.

CHAPTER 2

It was almost six when the pulsating, high-pitched alarm woke Jack, withdrawing him from his intense, dreamful sleep.  He rolled over to shut off the informing sound. Letting out an unimpressive groan he rolled back over, placing his muscular, right arm over his sleeping wife.  Sarah stirred and pulled Jack’s hand round her stomach.

‘Happy anniversary,’ Jack whispered in her ear and he kissed Sarah lightly on the cheek.

‘Thank you,’ she replied, opening her eyes and turning her head in order to take a fleeting glance at her husband before resting back on the soft, peach coloured pillow. ‘But I’m sure no-one celebrates a three month anniversary.’  Pecking her cheek again, he rolled out of bed, both feet landing on the deep, white carpet below.  He perched himself on the edge of the large, wooden bed for a second, took in a deep breath and moved swiftly, naked, across the bedroom and into the en-suite bathroom, shutting the frosted, glass door quietly behind him.

  Jack’s kitchen was nothing special. Modern equipment, oak cupboards, but the flooring was stone, taken from a middle-age Swedish monastery, acquired many years previous while on assignment.  History was one of Jack’s passions.  It was history that had brought the recently married couple together, Sarah, as a freelance photographer for various travel guides and Jack, as an ardent visitor to the Mayan ruins of Mexico.  They met on the cool steps of the Kukulcan temple, as the bright, red sun disappeared into the surrounding forest. They both knew that they had found something that neither had expected to find on their visit.  He had introduced himself as Jack Harvey, foreign affairs consultant for the British Government, which is who Sarah still knew him to be.  Sitting at the small oak table at one end of the sizeable kitchen, Jack sunk his teeth into an over toasted slice of wholegrain bread, as Sarah entered the kitchen.  She was dressed in a figure hugging, light blue dress, looking as elegant as ever, her shoulder length hair tied in a short ponytail at the back of her head, with a thick, black hair band.  Sarah poured herself a coffee, clutching at the black mug, thawing her cold hands with its warmth.  She sat opposite Jack as he swallowed the last piece of his toast.

‘How long will you be gone?’ Sarah asked, staring into her steaming, black coffee, hands spinning the cup slowly through her fingers as she spoke.

     ‘You know how these meetings go on, but I should be home by Saturday, in time for our theatre date. Looking forward to it.’  Jack had become a regular at the theatre since meeting Sarah. Although engaged for only six months, they had enjoyed numerous shows around the west end, surprising almost all of his close friends and colleagues.  Jack straightened his navy blue tie and brushed toast crumbs from his white shirt as he rose out of his seat.  He swung on his jacket, adjusting it, before kissing Sarah goodbye, fully on the lips.

‘Don’t be sad, my sweet,’ Jack said, pulling Sarah to her feet, embracing her.  ‘I’ve been away on business before, and so have you.’

‘But it feels different now,’ Sarah replied, resting her chin on Jack’s left shoulder as she was squeezed tighter.  Placing his hands on her shoulders he slowly pushed her away so that they were face to face and he kissed her devotedly, receiving the same passion in return.

‘It’s Wednesday today.  Saturday will come around soon enough,’ Jack said.  Sarah replied with an attempted smile.

‘I’ll try and phone. I’ll see you soon.’  And with that Jack left, allowing Sarah to regain her seat at the breakfast table and the warmth of her mug of coffee.

    The London office of The Secret Intelligence Division, or SID, was separate from the rest of MI6 and regularly changed its location.  Jack drew up to the yellow security gate. Looking in his rear-view mirror he could clearly see the London Eye through the buildings behind him, although motionless at this early hour.  The guard was dressed in a navy blue jumper, hiding a white shirt and blue tie and almost certainly a bulletproof vest. As he approached, the guard recognised Jack and bid him a professional, yet friendly ‘Good morning, Sir,’ as Jack opened his window.  Almost immediately another guard appeared, equipped with a long, black inspection mirror, a robust, black torch attached to the top end.  The guard checked the Range Rover methodically and, upon finishing, nodded his head to his colleague.

‘Have a good day, Sir,’ the first guard commented, as he raised the light, yet secure, barrier.

‘And you,’ Jack replied, as he drove forward, turning on his lights, entering a dark and fairly damp, underground car park.

After numerous security checks, Jack entered the main floor and headed for the last office on the right, the floor-length, vertical blinds impeding the view inside.  Jack knocked and entered immediately, closing the door behind him.  In front of him, on the other side of a large, oval glass table, were two of his superiors.  On his left was a short, balding man of fifty-five, director of operations, Donald Shelton.  On his left was a taller, slimmer, grey haired woman and ex-field operative, Sophie Morgan.  Jack sat opposite them, his black, leather, swivel chair reclining slightly.

‘Shall we begin, Jack?’ Morgan said, raising herself slightly to reach a small button on the table in front of her. Directly in front of Jack, the centre of the glass table began to move, angling itself towards Jack, a screen flickering into life.

‘This is Alexander Sperafico,’ Morgan began. ‘He’s been smuggling for the last ten years, low key, tobacco, diamonds, gold. Not the quantities that interest us. He works out of South America, Brazil mainly, smuggling to most of Europe.’  Jack sat silent as he watched image after image of Sperafico appear on the screen in front of him.  ‘He has suddenly, almost overnight, extended his organisation, buying properties in Italy, London and the Ukraine.’

‘His numerous contacts now allow him to smuggle anything, anywhere,’ added Shelton, his hands clasped together, resting under his dimpled chin.   Morgan continued.

‘He used to deal with each transaction personally, but now it seems there are multiple deals going down simultaneously, for quantities far larger than we care to let through.  Our sources tell us that the information for contacts are kept in his head, he doesn’t write anything down.’

‘So it looks as if his contact information is spreading throughout his organisation,’ Jack intervened, looking up from his screen.

‘That’s right,’ Shelton said. ‘But it’s not just that, he’s causing havoc within the markets.  So we need you to eliminate him, there will always be backhanders Jack, but this has blown all out of proportion.’  Morgan shuffled in her chair.

‘All the information you need will be downloaded to your system, the event will take place in Italy, Florence to be precise. He’s staying at the Savoy, while he has his recently acquired house redecorated. We have set you up in a nearby hotel, your flight to Firenze leaves this afternoon.  Jo, at the front desk, has your tickets. Any questions?’

‘No,’ Jack replied, rising from his chair. ‘You’ll hear from me soon.’

‘Take care, Jack,’ replied Morgan, old age sentiment replacing her once intimidating exterior.  Jack smiled and left the office.  Just about to enter was Douglas Grimlock, a short, dark haired man with a thin moustache to match.

‘Jack, good to see you.’

‘Good morning, Sir,’ Jack replied courteously, to yet another superior. Grimlock was in fact, to replace Sophie Morgan on her retirement, which Grimlock felt was long overdue.  Grimlock entered the office and Jack continued along the office corridor.  Jack approached the reception area and headed towards the front desk.  Jo was a young, brunette woman of twenty-eight and was busy typing, her fingers moving at an incomprehensible speed.  She looked up as Jack arrived at her desk. Saying nothing, she gave him an envelope. He took it from her.

'Thanks, have I been checked in?’ he asked.

'Yes and you are your favourite alter ego,' Jo replied.

'Well, I’ll see you soon then,' Jack said, as he started to walk away.

'Have you not forgotten something?' Jo asked, taking a small black box from her top draw and plugging it into her computer screen.

'Is that really necessary?’ Jack replied.

'Company policy,' she said, placing on a pair of white surgical gloves.  Jack approached the desk and held out his hand and faced it upwards.  Jo placed a small plastic tube on the end of his fourth finger.  The device clicked.  Squeezing his finger, a droplet of blood appeared.  Jo placed Jack’s finger inside the box and clicked a box on the computer screen.  After a few seconds the screen was full of data.

'You seem to be fine, although your alcohol levels could be lower,' Jo said, giving Jack a plaster.

'Nobody’s perfect,’ Jack replied. 'See you soon.’  And with that he left the building.

The flight from Heathrow had been a quick two hours and fifteen minutes but it was enough time for Jack to take in all the information.  Brazilian born, Alexander Sperafico had followed in his father’s footsteps and embarked on a life of crime.  It had been established that he had killed his father in order to take over his business empire at the young age of twenty-three.  Now at the age of thirty-two he had never been married and fathered no children, probably because he wouldn’t be able to trust them in the light of what he did to his own father.  The facts were weak on Sperafico, as he was never perceived as a threat by the division and was never really monitored until recently.  As the flight landed, he turned off his specially adapted i-phone and slid it into his inside pocket.

The terminal was particularly busy, becoming too small for the influx of travellers. Jack made his way to retrieve his bags, a separate part of the building than the rest of the passengers on his aircraft. On his approach to the desk a young boy, about fourteen or fifteen, dressed in blue jeans and plain purple t-shirt, bumped into him.  Jack instantly noticed the boy’s attempt to take his wallet from inside his jacket.  With lightning reflexes, Jack took the fingers of the youngster’s right hand.   Visually scanning the area for authority figures, he stared him in the face and to teach him a lesson, snapped three of them. The sound thankfully muffled by the numerous conversations going on around them.  After a brief moment he let go of the wide-eyed thief, who ran off silently, into the crowd.  Jack collected his two black bags and made his way out of the bustling airport and got into the nearest taxicab.