Fortress

30

In the car back to London, Tom rode in the rear with Rolt, who spent a long time poring over his laptop, the screen a mass of figures. As he scrolled through them, he sighed frequently but said nothing. Jackman pulled onto the M40, put the Bentley in the fast lane and let the needle wind its way up past a hundred.

‘Thanks for offering to help Blakey.’

‘As I said, it’s what we’re all about. He’s got enough on his plate without having to worry about his mother being too scared to come and visit him.’ Rolt focused on his figures again.

‘You’ve got quite a set-up, haven’t you?’

Rolt smiled. ‘So you got on okay there?’

‘Very interesting.’

‘Impressed?’ He looked as though he really wanted to know.

‘The guys I spoke to — they seem to think you saved their necks.’

‘Well, there is a bit of a gap in the market. HMG seems to have forgotten about them.’

‘I still don’t know where you think I fit into all this.’

The traffic abruptly backed up and they slowed to under fifty. The inside lane was coned off: armed police had surrounded a minibus. The occupants were lined up facing the vehicle as they were patted down and cuffed.

‘See what’s happening? People are frightened. This mess we’re in — it’s scaring them. It’s affecting everything: the economy, the markets — tourism.’ Rolt closed his laptop. ‘Do you mind if I confide in you?’

‘Shoot. I’m all ears.’

‘What you saw today, I’ve put everything into it. Become a bit of an obsession. But it’s costly and it doesn’t exactly pay its way. I’ve tried the government. They plead cuts and more pressing priorities. No one wants to remember the heroes of a war they’re trying to forget before it’s even over. And now with this bombing…’

There was real anger in his voice. He closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, then felt in his pocket. He pulled out a silver cigarette case, slid one out and lit it. ‘But I have got some interest from abroad. Potential investors.’

‘Where?’

‘America — Texas, to be precise. There are people there who want to do something similar. I’ve proposed a partnership: their cash, Invicta’s knowhow and reputation.’ He sighed. ‘God knows we’ve jumped through enough hoops for them. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been over there. They’ve heard my pitch, but to them I’m just another businessman touting for money.’ He turned to Tom. ‘You know what’ll clinch it? They need to hear it from someone who’s been there and done it.’

‘Who — me?’

‘Precisely. Someone with a blue-chip military background, who isn’t a fully paid-up Invicta graduate. Who can give an objective assessment with a bit of intelligent perspective.’

‘In which case perhaps you’d better share your agenda — your full agenda.’

Rolt looked surprised.

‘Up to now you’ve let Invicta’s success speak for itself. You’re conspicuously absent from the PR messages it puts out. It’s almost as if you’ve shied away from any applause for what you’ve achieved. But in that TV interview you put down a marker.’

Rolt shrugged as if it had been no more than an unintentional aside.

‘And what you’ve said will send shock waves through Whitehall.’

He smiled. ‘That won’t hurt. They could do with a jolt.’

‘But if you follow your argument to the logical conclusion, what you’re talking about is a pretty extreme crackdown on potential terrorists that we don’t currently have legislation for. Critics will accuse you of advocating something like — well, ethnic cleansing.’

He waved Tom’s words away. ‘Look at you. You’ve risked your life all over the world in the War on Terror. I don’t know the details of why you’re suddenly back in Britain, that’s your business and I’ll respect your desire to keep it to yourself, if you choose to do so, but I’ll hazard a guess that you’ve risked your life — oh, maybe twenty, thirty times for this country, and what have you got in return for it? What has your friend Blakey got to look forward to when he comes out? Freedom from fear — is that such a big thing to ask?’

‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Okay, cards on the table. My people are loyal — in fact, they’d probably drive over their own grandmothers if I asked them to. But almost all of them, one way or another, we’ve helped put back on the rails — they’re, well, to an extent a bit dependent. Men like you, in their prime, with a record like yours, are different. Be my ambassador, go to the US and get them to commit. With your track record, you’ll be the one to convince them. Think of it as just another mission, but with food, drink and hotels instead of warfare.’

He raised his hands almost apologetically. ‘I’m not asking you to sign up to anything. Just go and tell them your story.’

Tom knew this wasn’t a decision to be made on the spot.

‘Let me sleep on it, okay?’