The Enemy

CHAPTER 8

Central Intelligence Agency, Virginia, USA

Associate Deputy Director for the National Clandestine Service Roland Procter took a seat in one of the four black leather armchairs positioned in the corner of his office. The area was set to create an informal space for meetings and discussion, but Procter was usually happier to talk from behind his big desk. His current guest, however, warranted a more even playing field.

Enjoying the chair across from Procter was Clarke, who, though the same age, was at least eighty pounds lighter, several shades paler, and looking not too dissimilar to a French fry in a suit. But if Clarke was a French fry, Procter had to admit he was definitely the hamburger on their collective plate. Though Procter wasn’t sure how much he weighed, it had to be north of two fifty. It wasn’t genetics, it wasn’t big bones, it was just that Procter liked to eat.

Clarke wasn’t CIA and his credentials said Pentagon, but whatever his laminate proclaimed, Procter wasn’t sure exactly who Clarke worked for these days. Clarke could have worked for none of the big agencies or all of them at once, or maybe one that was so secret Procter hadn’t even heard of it. It didn’t matter. What mattered was Clarke shared the same principles as Procter and the same balls to put those principles to good use.

‘I’ve received word from my man,’ Procter began. ‘It seems there was a minor problem last week with the supplier in Hamburg.’

Clarke’s eyebrows rose. ‘What kind of a problem?’

‘The fatal kind.’ Procter gave a quick explanation of the facts as he knew them.

‘Did Tesseract get away clean?’

‘He claims so, and our people in Germany back up his story. The police have the killings down as a gangland incident. Georg, who is in fact a woman, was shot up pretty bad, but she’s had three surgeries and is going to make it. I’m told she’s conscious, and keeping her mouth closed. Not that it would make much difference either way. The cops over there aren’t too concerned about a bunch of criminals blasting holes in each other. Privately, they’re celebrating the destruction of two local gangs. They aren’t looking for anyone, let alone our boy.’

‘Good.’

‘You sound almost disappointed,’ Procter said.

Clarke ignored the barb. ‘We have a real problem though. Regarding Bucharest.’

‘Which is?’

‘One of Kasakov’s people heard Tesseract’s shot. A Russian guy has spoken to someone inside Bucharest PD. They’d found the assassin’s headless corpse by then. It was lying on a rooftop next to a sniper rifle, six hundred yards and a clear line of sight from the front door of the Grand Plaza where Vladimir Kasakov happened to be staying.’

‘So what did Bucharest PD tell him?’

‘What they knew about the shooter. Croatian freelancer, on Interpol’s files. Guy was a real bastard, did mob hits for different people. And now Kasakov knows for sure someone tried to kill him. And he must know that someone intervened on his behalf. Maybe he knows who wants him dead or maybe he doesn’t. But one thing’s for certain: he’s going to want to know who came to his aid and he’s going to keep his head down.’

Procter shrugged. ‘Doesn’t bother me.’

‘It bothers me.’

‘It shouldn’t. We’ll just spin it to throw him off the scent. We’ll make him think that the Croatian guy was killed for some other reason, and Kasakov’s survival was nothing more than a lucky coincidence.’

Clarke had already thought of that, of course, Procter knew, which was why his returning point flowed so easily. ‘True,’ Clarke said, ‘though it would have been better for him to carry on thinking he was beyond threat. Knowing how near he came to being bones in a box could complicate matters for us. Kasakov might change his plans, increase his security, reduce his profile. Hell, he could retire from arms dealing and take up politics.’

‘It won’t be a problem,’ Procter assured.

‘But if he was too spooked-’

‘Then he’ll calm down. Kasakov is well aware of the risks involved in the dubious way he conducts his life. Trafficking illicit heavy munitions to every dictator, warlord and death squad on the planet isn’t something you stay in long term if you have trouble sleeping at night. Besides, do you really think no one’s tried to take him out before? He’s one tough son of a bitch. It’ll take a hell of a lot more than a gunshot to scare the guy.’

‘There’s a difference between being scared and acting smart.’

‘Trust me, that bastard’s got balls of granite. Did you know that the French secret service tried to take him out back before he was a really big player? He screwed them on an Exocet sale. Came this close too.’ Procter held his thumb and index finger an inch apart.

‘I did not,’ Clarke said evenly.

‘Very few people do. It went down in Morocco, I believe. He was on vacation. A DGSE team went in shooting, took out most of Kasakov’s retinue but only wounded him. Shot half his ear off. Did that stop him? No, it did not. He’s even helped them sell some Mirage jets since then. And let’s remember, the French came a lot closer in Morocco than our Croatian friend just did in Bucharest. I’m telling you, Peter, you don’t need to be concerned about what old Vladdie boy will or will not do.’

Clarke’s face hardened. ‘It’s not with Kasakov where my only concern lies.’

Procter sat forward. ‘We’ve been through this before, and I do understand your reservations about my new employee.’

‘I’m not sure you really do.’

‘Listen, any risk he might potentially pose is more than offset by his value.’

‘That value is still debatable at this stage.’

‘I think you’ll find his value has very recently been demonstrated.’

Clarke shrugged his narrow shoulders dismissively. ‘So the prodigy passes the first real test, so what? That means he’s useful, so are a lot of people. A lot more manageable people.’

‘I think you’re underestimating just how lucky we were to have him. In case you’ve forgotten, we found out someone was going to try to put a bullet in Kasakov all of forty-eight hours before it went down. Kasakov was off the grid and we had no way of warning him even if we knew where he was. All we had was one lousy intercepted phone call revealing where it was going to happen. We didn’t know who was going to do it or how. We sent Tesseract in blind and he got the job done. This whole op of ours would have crumbled before we got to first base if Kasakov had been killed in Bucharest. So tell me, who else could we have sent, unofficially, to get us out of that potential disaster without also putting us in the spotlight? Me? You? ’

Clarke straightened in his seat and put his right index finger to good use. ‘Don’t try to bait me, Roland. I have expressed reasonable doubts about who you’ve chosen to employ for this operation, none of which relate to Tesseract’s abilities. May I remind you it’s his loyalty, reliability, and accountability that I have issues with.’

‘You did just remind me,’ Procter said beneath arched eyebrows.

Clarke exhaled strongly. His normally pale face was flushed red.

‘Peter, calm down before you give yourself an aneurysm. You came to me, remember? You asked me for help, not the other way around. Obviously, I’m glad you did, but we agreed at the beginning of our little scheme that you would allow me to run things on the ground as I saw fit. That includes whom I choose to put out there. Tesseract is extremely capable and utterly deniable. Anything about his history before he began working for us is irrelevant to me as long as he produces results.’

‘As long as he does.’

‘The point is,’ Procter continued, lowering his tone, ‘we needed him, we used him, and he pulled it off perfectly. We can’t ask for any more.’

‘But he is a risk to us, you can’t deny that.’

‘And I’m not. But his value outweighs the risk.’

‘For now,’ Clarke said. ‘But remember, however much of a risk he poses at present, that risk only increases over time. And all the while our ability to manage it diminishes.’

‘Then we’ll act before we get into the red.’

‘I hope so.’

‘You worry too much.’

‘You don’t worry enough.’

Procter smiled. ‘Which is why I have you,’ he said. ‘But let’s get back on track, yeah? You’ll be pleased to know Tesseract is in Berlin for the next phase of the operation.’

‘Good. Let’s see if your boy can keep us on a winning streak.’

‘He will,’ Procter said with the utmost confidence. ‘And with Xavier Callo now in our custody too, things are progressing nicely.’

‘What’s the strategy with Callo?’

‘I’ve left it up to the boys on the ground. I’m not going to play armchair interrogator from six thousand miles away. He’s spent the last forty-eight hours in a car trunk with only a few sips of water so he’ll to be pretty shaken by now. They’ll get him on site by tomorrow, I expect, and then leave him to stew in an unlit cell for a few hours. Then they’ll go in hard.’

‘Sounds delightful,’ Clarke said.

Procter leaned forward again. ‘No less than he deserves.’

He heaved himself out of the chair and walked to the window. Outside, early morning sunlight bathed the Virginia countryside. Procter loved this part of the country. If it were up to him, he’d move out of DC and get a nice rural house, maybe with a few acres for a horse. Patricia was too enamoured with city life though to give it up without one hell of a fight. Procter, a man who was always careful picking his battles, knew he wasn’t going to win that one just yet.

‘How sure are you he knows what we need?’ Clarke asked.

‘Oh, he knows all right. If there’s a better link out there to Ariff’s network then we’ll never find it. That Egyptian scumbag has done a mighty fine job of staying under the radar for a very long time now.’

‘Who’s going to be asking the questions?’ Clarke asked. ‘Because whoever is in that room with Callo is going to learn a lot of information. Information that, when all this is over, could end up being used as leverage over us.’

‘I think you’re overestimating who I’ve got in mind. There’ll be the British contractors you supplied and vouched for, of course, and they only know the barest of details. So no problems there. The guy overseeing it is Agency, and though he’s an ambitious little prick, he’s got balls of purest cookie dough. He won’t breathe a word to anyone, ever.’ Procter smiled. ‘He’s my own personal bitch. I’ve got enough shit on him I could ask him to cut a leg off for me and he’d say thank you for the privilege while he bled out. I keep him so strung out he doesn’t know whether I’m Jesus Christ or the devil himself.’

The last part prised something resembling a smile from Clarke. Procter said, ‘He’ll do what we need done and within forty-eight hours we’ll know enough to set up the next phase of the operation.’

Clarke seemed pleased for once. ‘Then everything is going exactly as planned.’

‘Exactly as planned,’ Procter echoed. ‘It’s going to be beautiful.’