Traitor (35 page)

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Authors: Duncan Falconer

Tags: #Fiction, #Action & Adventure

BOOK: Traitor
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Mansfield’s face broke into a matching grin and the two men embraced, hugging each other strongly as they laughed heartily.
‘You look well,’ Binning said, moving back to take a look at Jason. ‘Bit cold and wet but in good shape, considering.’
‘You have no idea,’ Jason said. ‘I tell you, there’s the easy way of doing things and then there’s Stratton’s way. Dear God, it was utter madness at times. Between that damned platform and getting here I think I used up all my spare lives.’
‘Let’s get you a change of clothes and a hot meal.’
‘Tell me you had the decency to procure a fine malt,’ Jason said, taking a step with Binning towards the door.
‘Part of the deal, old boy.’
They both laughed out loud as they walked.
Halfway across the room Jason stopped to look back at Stratton. ‘Shocked, Stratton?’
The operative was stunned but did not show it.
‘Come on, man. Say something. Your face is almost worth the whole caper.’
‘You’ve been planning this a long time, I suppose,’ Stratton said.
‘A couple of years. It was complicated. Binning and I play three-dimensional chess. We’re practically unbeatable. This was every bit as complex. You see, it’s all about calculating the opponent’s next move in respect of yours and then his next, and yours and so on. We must have gone to about twenty moves ahead,’ he said, looking at Binning for acknowledgement.
Binning raised his eyes in appreciative agreement.
‘Who were your opponents?’ Stratton asked.
‘London.Your people. Never saw that damned helicopter coming, though. But then, that’s why we chose you. One of the more interesting aspects of the plan. We needed one of the best to get us through the tougher physical issues. You were perfect. Thank you.’
‘Why?’
‘You wouldn’t understand. Something beyond your paltry intelligence’s ability to grasp. In simple terms, the Russians could give me what our side wouldn’t. Head of MI16 was all I was ever going to be. A brain for hire. The Russians offered me power, and business opportunities.’
‘Money?’
‘That’s a given. This plan alone is evidence of our genius. I have to admit there were a few times when I thought it was perhaps a little too ambitious. You see, it wasn’t just about handing over the tile - you’ll notice I said “handing over” as opposed to stealing it: it belonged to us, the copyright is a minor issue. But the essence of the plan was about succeeding without London knowing of my involvement. You see, I’m going back. My handover’s not quite complete. There’s more to be had.’
‘Your recording device at Sevastopol wasn’t faulty, you’ll be relieved to know,’ Binning said.
‘You needed to discredit me to allow you to do the job and complete the arrangements with the
Inessa
,’ Stratton said.
‘And then get you to MI16 in order to carry out the platform task,’ Jason added.
‘Chaz never brought anything into the airlock,’ Stratton surmised.
‘No. I thought we’d blown it trying to get the helicopter to drop us off with the mini-sub. That was a big hurdle, London allowing us to continue to the platform. Once again you tipped the scales in our favour.’
‘Jordan was Jason’s idea,’ Binning said proudly. ‘A real stroke of genius, on top of superb analysis.’
‘Thank you,’ Jason said to his friend. ‘It was all about finding the right pieces and then fitting them together. Much the same thing we do every day with our designs,’ Jason bragged. ‘It was a complex mathematical problem. That’s how we laid it out in the theory room.’
‘Was destroying the platform a part of it?’
Jason smirked. ‘Of course, we have partners who have interests of their own that they threw into the calculation. I understand the owners needed the insurance money. London has its suspicions about that but it doesn’t affect our operation.’
‘The Russian government is in on this?’ Stratton asked.
‘Elements are aware, of course. Sumners was quite correct. But at the end of the day it’s a matter of all’s fair in love and espionage. There are winners and there are losers.’
‘And Rowena?’ Stratton asked.
Jason smiled. ‘A pawn, like you. She’s being kept in another part of the complex. I need her for the next stage of the plan. You see, you die. I succeed in our task. I go back to London with Rowena, who will think I rescued her. Her innocence will improve my credibility. I will of course say wonderful things about you, and probably more wonderful things about myself. That’s the advantage of winning, Stratton.’ Jason came closer to the operative to look deeper into his eyes. ‘I wish we’d finished that fight. It would have been a perfect climax. The great John Stratton. Beaten by a civvy.’ He chuckled. ‘You’ve never come up against anyone like me before. Rowena was right about you. You’ve always been lucky. But brilliance doesn’t need luck. In fact, I can’t afford it.’
Jason lingered long enough to gloat before turning away.
‘Jason,’ Stratton called out.
Mansfield paused at the door to look back at him.
‘I was right about you. You
are
a wanker.’
‘We won’t be seeing each other again,’ Mansfield said, continuing through the door. ‘I’m going to insist they get rid of you right away. Chain him up well, Major,’ he shouted. ‘He’s very lucky.’
Binning took a moment to look back at Stratton, his grin apparently ineradicable. He raised his eyebrows as if to say ‘That’s life’, and padded after his boss.
Before he followed the others, the major glanced at the guard in a way that conveyed his need to remain alert.
Stratton stood there in stunned silence. This was a bloody mess. He slid the chains down the bracket, sat on the wet floor and went over the situation. One aspect of it had apparently changed. He wouldn’t be spending years in a Russian jail after all.
 
Stratton remained where he was for many hours. At one point he drifted off to sleep, the long hours and violent events of the day getting the better of him, despite the grim prospect of his impending end. He woke up at one point after hearing a sound close by only to discover that it was the young guard holding a cup of water out to him. Stratton drank it as the man held the cup.
During his conscious moments, Stratton considered every possible avenue of escape, one of which included getting back down into the emergency tunnel and taking his chances with the vertical shaft. But no matter what he came up with, while he was chained so heavily to the bracket and with a guard seated at the door holding a gun and watching him, the opportunity for any kind of escape attempt looked highly unlikely.
He had no accurate sense of the passing time and how long he had dozed off for. The only clue that it had been several hours since his capture was that his clothes had practically dried on him. The lights remained the same and the only sound was the constant hum of machinery. After another period of pondering a variety of dead ends he fell back into a fitful half-sleep, his bottom aching on the cold concrete floor, his back uncomfortable against the rock wall, his wrists chafing against his chains, his bruises and burns combining with the other pains and discomforts.
As Stratton dozed he was distantly aware that the lights had gone out and although he heard the door open it was not enough to drag him fully out of his slumber. Even the sound of a dull thud followed by the clatter of something metallic on the concrete floor came like a distant echo and could easily have been part of a dream. But something deep inside his mind called to him to wake up and it was eventually a rush of fear that startled him into consciousness.
He opened his eyes to a room in near darkness, the only light coming through the open door and from the glowing bulbs on the pumping machine’s control panel. A figure crouched by another that was lying on the floor. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light Stratton realised the guard was lying prone and the other figure was searching his pockets.
The figure stood up and walked towards him. The red and green lights on the machine beside him revealed its identity: Rowena, in a boiler suit a few sizes too large for her. She crouched beside him, holding a couple of keys.
‘Are you injured?’ she asked calmly as she tried the first key in the lock.
‘No,’ Stratton replied, getting to his knees.
‘That’s good. I suspect we’re going to have to run at some point. And maybe more than that.’
He could only stare at her as she fitted the next key and twisted it in the lock that then popped open. He removed the chains and got to his feet.
She stood up in front of him, looking into eyes that were full of questions. ‘I always suspected Jason,’ she said. ‘Not of being a traitor, though. A woman knows when a man is hiding something from her. I thought he was cheating on me. But my digging only led to him and Binning. I even wondered if they were gay. I was almost relieved when I found out. Female ego.’
‘How long have you known?’
‘Couple of hours. I thought you’d all perished with the platform. I watched it sink from the lifeboat. Then the Russian mini-sub arrived and took us away. I’ve been here a week, kept in an office with a bunk bed.’
‘How did you get to me?’ Stratton asked as he walked over to check on the young guard.
‘I wasn’t always a scientist.’
Stratton glanced at her, remembering what Jason had said about her.
‘I did a selection course for a military undercover unit. I got pulled out after I finished it. We covered hostage situations,’ she explained. ‘I learned a few things. From the moment they took me from Binning I played the pathetic frightened child.’
‘That must have been a challenge.’
Rowena was not offended by the remark.
The young guard remained unconscious but Stratton decided he would live.
‘The guards took to locking me in the office. They felt sorry for me and stopped checking on me every few hours. After a couple of days I only saw them at mealtimes. I worked out how to pick the door lock open as well as how to relock it. At night I had a look around. I found diagrams of this place, inventories, files.They still have literally tons of chemical and biological concoctions here.’
Stratton picked up the guard’s AK-74, checked it was ready to fire and went to the door to look into the empty corridor.
‘Today I heard voices outside the room. It was the laughter I recognised. I couldn’t believe it was them together again. That’s when it all began to make sense. Their conspiratorial meetings. The things I thought were strange. They went into a nearby room. I rigged the intercom phone so I could listen in.’
Stratton looked at her, for a moment wondering if this was some kind of set-up, another piece of the three-dimensional chess game. But he was free, from the chains at least, and he had a gun in his hands. Not that that seemed to make a difference to the kind of plans these characters conjured up.
Rowena took his look as one of disbelief. ‘Rigging a simple intercom phone is child’s play, literally.’
He looked away, believing her.
‘Jason wants you dead by tonight. They mentioned the pump room, and so here I am.’
‘I don’t suppose you’ve figured out how to get out of here.’
‘Of course I have.’
He looked at her again, more doubt in his eyes.
‘I’m a nuclear engineer. I have an IQ forty points above genius.’
‘And a photographic memory, of course.’
‘Live with it. You doubt me, don’t you?’
Stratton thought carefully about his answer. ‘No, I don’t.’
She looked thoughtful. ‘I wouldn’t blame you if you did. You’ve been royally screwed. By two of the best.’
‘Well, I’ve got you on my side now, haven’t I?’
Rowena wanted him to know that he did. ‘There are two lift shafts. One for cargo and everyday use by the soldiers. The other is in one of the labs for executive use only. There is a single stairwell to the surface, two hundred and fifty feet above us. Since Binning got here the guard force has doubled. But there aren’t many of them down here in the complex. They stay up top, stopping people from getting in. They don’t like being down here, anyway.’
He waited for more of the plan to materialise. So far she had given him hardly anything.
‘I can see only one way out,’ Rowena said. ‘And that’s to create a situation where everyone else down here needs to get out too.’
That interested him. ‘An emergency?’
‘Right.’
But Stratton’s interest began to fade without more info. ‘So we get to the surface along with everyone else. That’s not an escape.’
‘That depends on what kind of emergency. If there’s a serious bio leak, every safety door in the complex automatically seals the place tight and cannot be opened without an executive order from Moscow. The safety doors are between each chemical and biological storage hall and at the top of both lift shafts and the stairwell.’
‘I still don’t see it.’
‘This place is old. The door seals are shit. Everyone knows that if there was a serious bio leak it wouldn’t be contained. Those who managed to get to the surface before the place shut down wouldn’t stop at the surface. They’d keep on running for as far as they could get, just like at Chernobyl.’
Stratton perked up. But there were still holes in the plan. ‘How much time to get to the surface before the place seals?’
‘None. Everything shuts down as soon as the alarms are triggered.’
He looked at her with raised eyebrows.
‘Certain death? That’s also what the scientists who worked down here thought when they first came. They didn’t like that idea much either so they built a delay mechanism into the executive lift only. Anyone working in the labs or offices might make it to the surface. The lift’s big enough. Everyone else who didn’t make it . . . well, tough. When a leak sets off the alarms, all the doors seal within two minutes. The executive lift stays live for five minutes more. The door that seals the surface exit to the exec elevator stays open for another minute.’

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