Chapter Thirty One

Jones was in a meeting. The talk was all objectives, strategies and the bigger picture. The dicks around the table swung with impunity, the game players, the politicians, made noises about productivity, results, and the tax payer. Each one only interested in their own futures, their own bank balances, their own careers.

Jones had joined MI5 to make a difference, but the longer he stayed in the organisation working the corporate beat the more he realised that his own office had the same problems as the big firms.

And if corporate crime went virtually unpunished at every level, at times it was even worse in government circles. After all who would guard the guards themselves?

No one, he thought. Beat coppers always said they spent so much time around criminals that they were nearly one and the same. He couldn't see any difference with the men and women around him who worked on terror cells, traffickers and corruption.

He knew corporate crime affected him, he'd even said 'moving forward' in conversation the other day when he'd meant to say 'next.'

The dicks all swung in his direction when his phone began to vibrate on the conference table.

'Sorry,' he picked up the phone and recognised a number from the Maclays office. Not the usual extension.

All eyes focused on him. His boss, big man Cavendish said, 'Get rid of it.'

Jones muted the ring but it still buzzed quietly.

'It's about time you told us how you're getting on with your investigation at Maclays,' Cavendish said.

'I'd better take this then sir. It's a Maclays call.' A begrudging nod from the boss and he stepped out of the room.

'Jones,' he answered.

The woman at the other end gabbled at him, he held the phone away from his ear. He listened in as the voice continued, as she laid out the answer to what he'd been searching for all these months.

He recognised the voice of Trevor Thomson in the background. The woman continued talking over the top of Thomson to finish her story, then stopped.

Jones's head span. She asked a question. Then again.

'What are you going to do?' she said.

He looked out over the office, troubled men and women working hard on case loads that mostly went nowhere. They didn't even call them cases here, but that's what they were. And he'd always liked to close.

'Put Thomson on.' A moment's shuffling, then Thomson's voice.

'Who is this?'

Operational Intelligence Officer Jones, MI5,' he said. 'Can you verify what Miss Wilson is saying?'

'I'll have to verify who you are before I can answer that,' Thomson said.

Damn him. 'Of course, look our HQ number up on the website, I'll be on extension...' he kicked one of the junior officers in front of him out his seat. 'What number is this?'

'216,' the rookie said.

'216,' he repeated into his mobile. 'Got that?'

'Yes,' Jones hung up. Don't give them any choices.

Then he waited. The rookie looked petulant.

'Sir?' he said, shifting weight from foot to foot.

The conference room door opened.

'Jones?' Most jumped at Cavendish’s rumbling baritone. Jones had dealt with worse. 'It's time, come and tell us how badly you're doing.'

He pointed at the phone. 'Actually, sir,' he said, making the word sir sound like dickhead. 'I think I've got something. Waiting for call back.'

His boss leaned against the door frame and waited too. Jones shuffled a mouse on the desktop, then the phone rang.

The switchboard operator said, 'Jones?'

'Yes.'

'Don't know what you're doing on this extension, but I've got a Trevor Thomson for you.'

'Put him through, and make sure you don't cut him off.'

A beat, then, 'Hello?'

'Thomson. It’s Jones. Please confirm what your colleague just told me.'

Cavendish made a two handed ‘Tell me’ gesture.

'So was she correct in saying that it looks like the assassination of the chancellor will take place today?'

Cavendish’s face went cold. The rookie swore.

'Do you know where, when, or by who?'

He repeated what Thomson said to his boss, 'You'll know where and when in the next ten minutes,' Cavendish folded his arms, waited for more. Heads turned on the surrounding desks. 'How,' Jones said. 'Savage? What’s he doing now?'

'What’s going on Jones? Cavendish said.

Jones put a finger in his ear and ignored him. 'That could get very messy Thomson, I need you to get up there and keep an eye on things until my men arrive. I've got someone on site. They'll join you a-sap.' He nodded. 'Good, go now.' He hung up.

'Well?' Cavendish said.

'I think we've just found out what this is all about.'

'Tell me.'

'I will, sir, but I strongly encourage you to mobilise a CO19 armed response unit first.'

'I decide when that happens Jones.'

'Of course, sir.' They locked eyes.

Cavendish unfolded his arms. 'Sarah,' he called back into the conference room. 'Mobilise CO19, straight away.'

'Two units,' Jones said.

'Two units,' he repeated. Then he pulled a chair in front of Jones. 'You,' he pointed to the rookie, 'two coffees. Strong. I don't care how they come.' The young man scampered. 'You,' he pointed to Jones. 'Talk.'

'Of course, sir.'

*

Savage reached the forty-sixth floor. He had Chris on an open mobile line and a bluetooth headset hanging off his ear.

If he'd had time, he would have rigged an RFID reader to gain access to the stair well. If he'd had time, he would have prepped Echo for another ruse. But as fate would have it he had none.

The lift gatekeeper with the chunky fingers, glowered when he saw Savage approach.

'You're definitely not on the list today sunshine, I would have remembered.'

Savage stopped at the man's podium. 'You know, I think you're right.'

Before the man's grin faded Savage grabbed his head and pulled him rapidly to the side, totally destabilising him until he hit the floor. He seized the man in a headlock and pressed hard on his carotid artery.

Chunky fists swung at Savage’s head, but the blows didn't connect. A hand reached round and tried to rip at his testicles. The man's strength faded with the pressure. The force on the artery could result in unconsciousness or death. The difference was a matter of seconds.

When he went limp, Savage let go.

The man breathed heavily. Savage rummaged through his pockets and found the swipe card that activated the lift. He heard Chris chuckle in the background when Vi asked him what was going on.

At the reception desk Paris was on duty again.

He walked up to her and said, 'It's me again, big problem in Sutherland's office this time. He's not in there is he?' he feigned concern.

'Not today,' she pointed to the banqueting room doors where a man watched him with interest. Slim but muscled, attentive, coiled ear piece like those secret service goons in movies wear.

He clocked Savage right back. Both men more than they looked on the surface. At CEO level, security required attentive service along with the ability to kick ass.

'So, who’s in Sutherland's office?'

'His PA, I think,' that worried look again. 'She didn't tell me there was a problem.'

'She called us direct, spoke to my boss. Totally flipped. That's why they sent me. I can smile while I take a beating.' Paris tapped her long nails on the desk.

'Should I announce you? She didn't tell me? What does that mean?'

'Does this a lot does she?'

Paris raised both eyebrows. 'All the time.'

'Look, why don't you let me just announce myself. I really don't mind.'

'Oh, I couldn't—'

'I love your hair by the way. Did anyone ever say you look like Paris Hilton?'

'Oh,' she smiled. 'Thank you.'

'No, thank you.' He pointed a finger up the corridor. 'Up here, right?'

His smile faded when he turned and walked away. As he approached the office, his hands wouldn't stay still. Adrenaline made them pump, his heart rate picked up the pace. He stopped outside the door, took a deep breath and reached for the handle.

*

'What have we got in Sutherland's office?' Vi said.

'Just this,' Chris pointed at the picture from the wifi camera. The back of the whiteboard.

'What about the log? What’s she doing Stef?'

'No idea,' Stef said. 'She's routed through a proxy I can't get into. Private network. I'm closed out. Same one as last week though.'

'Okay people,' Chris said, 'We got voices but still no picture.'

They looked at the off-white screen, muffled voices came over the speakers.

'Turn it up,' Vi said.

'I have, that's as good as it gets.'

'Damn!'

The voices got louder, shouting. 'C'mon Savage,' Vi shouted into Chris’s mouthpiece, 'Remember the whiteboard.'

As if responding to her quiet prayer, the screen went blank as the sensors flooded with light. Then they found their level, and Savage's face as he yanked the board out of the way.

The camera looked down onto Sutherland’s desk. Savage moved out of shot.

'What are you doing?' Natasja screamed at him.

'What are you doing?' He pushed her away from Sutherland’s computer. 'The assassination market. You always were a bitch Natasja, I just never realised how much.'

'You have no idea who you're dealing with.'

Natasja picked up the desk phone, hit switchboard, and yelled, 'Get security in here. Now.'

Savage hit the keys on the keyboard until a new screen came up.

The door burst open. The thin man from the hallway quickly evaluated the scene, took in the woman's outstretched arm and moved toward Savage.

'Watch this,' Chris said. ‘Savage is going to kick his ass.’

Instead Savage raised his hands and said, 'Please, don't hurt me.'

The thin man moved closer. Savage ducked down under the desk and screamed like a girl.

'No, please, no,' he said.

The pathetic sound made Chris recoil from his mobile phone. The thin man stopped in his tracks, stunned.

'I thought this guy was supposed to be a bad mother fucker?' Chris said.

The thin man turned to Natasja and said pretty much the same thing.

'I don't care,’ she said. ‘Just hurt him. Now.'

The thin man dragged Savage out from under the desk and cocked his fist.

Savage cowered further, 'I'm sorry,' the thin man said and didn't see Savage's blow to his groin coming. The thin man doubled up. Savage struck the man's face with both feet and flipped upright.

The thin man shook his head and raised his leg to stamp Savage's knee. Savage grabbed his leg behind the knee and head butted him in the face. The man's nose exploded, but he was a pro, he butted straight back and Savage's nose went the same way.

'Holy fuck,' Ryan said.

'Look at the PA,' Stef said, she shouted encouragement at the two men from the other side of the desk. 'She loves it.'

The thin man was in some kind of martial arts stance. Savage pounded his fists into the man's head and did not stop. He’d been taught violence was a skill you applied, not an art.

When the thin man looked like he might drop Savage seized him by the throat with one hand, the balls with the other and lifted him over his head.

He threw the thin man at Natasja, she tried to get out of the way, but the full weight of the flying body caught her and they both fell backwards through the glass coffee table that filled the lounge area in front of the window.

The connecting door to the banqueting room burst in. Sutherland entered followed by another wiry bodyguard and several suits.

'My god Savage, what the blazes are you doing?' Sutherland shouted. He saw Natasja lying beneath the prone bodyguard.

'You tell me,’ Savage said. ‘Looks like she's been doing your dirty work for you. Just like how you had Michael set up the assassination markets and then had him killed.'

'I did no such thing you imbecile. He was a weak man who took his own life, end of story.'

Sutherland hit a button on the wall.

Nothing happened.

'Panic button,' Sutherland said. 'It's silent, and you, Mr Savage aren't going anywhere, except maybe through that window.' He jerked a thumb at his other bodyguard. 'Get him.'

The man swaggered and clenched his mouth tight when he neared Savage, ‘You ready bitch?’

Savage wiped the blood from his lip. ‘Gagging for it, pretty boy, just like your mama.’

The door to the hallway flew open, 'Thomson,' Sutherland said. 'Impeccable service. I only just—'

'Very good sir.' He stood aside and six security officers rushed in. 'Now if you would be so kind, you need to lie on the floor with your hands on your heads. All of you. Now.'

'Thomson, that's ridiculous.'

'Men,' each officer pulled out a telescopic baton. The steel chorus as they flicked them out together made everyone pause.'

'Everyone on the floor. If you have not obeyed by the time I count to two my men will make you lie down.'

Thomson started the count, 'One!' He didn't need to count two, everyone lay down, ‘That means you too Savage.’

He got down on his knees.

'Now we wait,' Thomson said. 'The police will be here any minute.'

Savage looked up. Thomson was reading what was on screen.

Savage had lost his ear-piece in the fight. He saw it on the thick carpet near Natasja. She groaned. One of Thomson's men knelt over her.

'You'll be alright miss,’ he said. ‘Permission to call an ambulance, sir?' the man said to Thomson.

Thomson waved a hand, busy on the computer. 'Permission granted.'

'Working on your next career move Trevor?'

Thomson grimaced at Savage.

'Well there's no point giving away this kind of information for free is there?'

Thomson flicked open a small phone. Pressed redial.

'Jones?' he said. 'I have what you're looking for. I insist on giving it to someone higher up the food chain and I want credit for uncovering, well, whatever it is we’ve uncovered.'

He listened to the response. ‘Yes, your woman is here.' Savage heard someone move in the doorway behind him. ‘And no chance,’ Thomson said. ‘Not to her. Try again.'

Savage watched Thomson barter lives for career advancement then turned to the doorway.

'Get up, come with me,’ Echo whispered. ‘Don't look back.'

He stood up.

'No, not you either Jones,’ Thomson said. ‘Someone with power. Have whoever is in charge call me back, until then—'

The security operators all knew who she was. They nodded to her as they walked out of the room and away from Thomson.

They jogged along the corridor past Paris's empty desk to the lift. When the doors shut Savage checked the badge pinned to her chest.

'If you're MI5, why didn't you just shove him out of the way?'

'And hold down all those bodies on my own?'

He gave her a lopsided smile. 'You'd have me.'

'I know.' She moved in and kissed him. 'And I'd like a kiss without your blood sometime.'

'Deal. I got a look at Dark Market before it kicked off. Want the location of the hit?'

'Oh hell yeah, let Thomson and Sutherland stew.'

Savage pulled out his phone. 'Vi, are you still listening?'

'And miss all this? What do you need?'

'Okay, from what I saw on screen, the hit is at Mansion House, Piccadilly Road at about 11am.'

'That's in half an hour,' Echo said. She already had Jones on her own phone. 'Did you catch that, sir?' Echo’s head bobbed curtly as Jones started relaying orders.

'Vi,' Savage whispered into his earpiece, 'Can you see inside this lift?'

'Does the pope shit in the woods?' he heard Chris shout.

Savage turned to the lift camera. 'Can you see what I'm holding?'

‘It’s small, it’s black…what is it?’

‘A key-logger,' Savage said.

'That's what all that “Please don't hurt me” stuff was about?'

Savage nodded. 'I'll drop it in the plant pot just outside the elevator. We need a head-start. There's something else, the hit isn't a random grudge – at the admin level you can set your hits, your own prices, your own assassin. This’ll get us in. Find out what else is on there.'

'Why can't you give it to us yourself?'

Echo put her hand over the receiver as the door opened. 'The police are on high alert. We'll have Sutherland’s computer locked down in the next few minutes. CO19 are on route to Mansion House.'

'You hear that?' he said to Vi.

'Yes,' she said. They stepped out of the lift. He let the key-logger drop from his hand into the fake soil around the fake plant.

'But why not give it to MI5?' Vi said.

Echo hung up and beamed at him.

'I need your help,' he said. 'I'm going to Mansion House.'

'Why? CO19 are already on their way,' Echo said.

'John,’ Vi said in his ear, ‘just let the authorities handle it.'

‘Whatever you’re planning Echo he's already thought of it.'

'So tell me,' she said.

'I think I know who the assassin is.'

'Who?'

Savage cracked a smile. 'How long do we have?'

'Twenty eight minutes.'

'I'll tell you on the way.'

*

'CO19 are mobilised, sir.'

'What's the situation there?'

'Ah,' Jones cleared his throat. 'The chancellor is not interested.'

'What?'

'Apparently, he likes a walk every morning. He's doing a circuit down to the Thames, past St Paul's Cathedral and back to Mansion House in time for his speech.'

'So, stop him.'

'Too late, sir.'

'Well damn it man, go with him.'

'He won't even let his own staff go with him.'

'After he's been attacked once already?'

'He likes the peace, sir.'

'Likes the bloody what?'

'I've already got plain clothes following him at a distance, sir.'

'Stay on him Jones.'

'If you can authorise CO19 to use lethal force as required, we're good to go, sir.'

'No need. I'm coming down there myself. Green light's on me.'

'Really, sir? It’s under control.'

Too many chiefs not enough Indians, sir, is what he wanted to say.

'Just don't let him out of your sight,' Cavendish said, and the line went dead.

*

'Who’s the assassin Savage?'

Echo grabbed the overhead hand rail as Savage slammed the little hire car through the jammed traffic on the Horseferry roundabout, at the exit for the A-road he pushed his way through two cars trying to bully their way into the narrow exit.

They picked up speed along the slip road. Savage caught the briefest of glimpses of raised fists in his wing mirror and then bombed onto the main road towards the Limehouse Basin and its weekend yachtmasters. They took the slip road for the Limehouse Link and Rotherhithe Tunnel.

As light turned to sodium-lit dark they picked up speed, Savage weaved from right to left lanes to keep up momentum, avoiding the bikes speeding through the middle of the two lanes.

'There was a reference on Natasja’s admin page,' he said.

'And?'

'And I recognised a name. He’s got more than one. I've worked with him, put my life on the line for him. Never would of thought him capable—I need to make time. Hold on.'