The Watchman

Fourteen

Forget about Vale being a fantasist; he knew too much. ‘How do you know about Tijuana?’

‘I lied a moment ago. Occupational hazard, I’m afraid. James Beckwith told us as much as he could without betraying state or departmental secrets.’

‘Us? You mean Mr Black?’ The guy with sunburn in the SUV.

‘Yes, I’m sorry about that. He’s an analyst from our Washington office. He was the nearest man I could use in a hurry.’

I let it go. Vale was merely doing his job.

‘Beckwith was very unhappy,’ he continued in a chatty manner, ‘about the Tijuana situation.’

‘Professional embarrassment,’ I said. ‘One of his men went rogue.’

‘That explains it. He was impressed with you, however; said you did an excellent job.’

‘I try to please.’ Beckwith hadn’t said anything to me at the time, but he’d pounced on the telephone directory readily enough. I was guessing the late Senor Achevar had found a simple way of passing along information if anything were to happen to him. If you want to highlight names and phone numbers, what better way than to place discreet dots against each one in a telephone directory?

‘He mentioned some collateral damage. A certain Mexican group isn’t too happy about the results, apparently. They lost an employee and a number of others are now under surveillance.’

‘Yes.’

He chewed that over for a moment, then asked, ‘What’s your current situation? Are you under contract?’

‘Not right this minute.’ I was between jobs. It got that way sometimes.

‘Good. Are there any places you won’t work?’

‘Not many.’ This was beginning to feel like an interview. ‘Do I need to write out a resumé?’

‘No. I think I have all the information I need.’

‘Who else spoke about me?’ I wasn’t too bothered, but in my business, loose talk can definitely cost lives.

‘I’m not at liberty to mention any names. But they both gave you a clean bill of health.’

They. ‘Government agencies?’

He smiled. ‘All good people, I promise.’

I had to be satisfied with that. ‘So what are you looking for?’

‘Earlier, you called yourself a shadow. That’s exactly what I need. A shadow. Someone adept at staying in the background.’

‘Go on.’

‘I need you to accompany two of our people on an assignment.’

‘Our people?’

‘I’ll come to that later. I need your agreement first.’

He was being very cautious. ‘Is this in hostile territory?’

‘Very.’

‘Where?’

‘I’ll come to that, too. Hopefully, it won’t come to anything, but I need you to make sure nothing impacts on our people.’

Impact. A word used often in my business, and rarely with pleasant consequences.

‘Don’t you Brits have specialists for that kind of operation — the Increment or whatever you currently call them?’ Most governments have specialist teams for delicate operations. Some are part of the military but not always current serving personnel. The US Navy Special Warfare Development Group (DEVGRU) Seal Team Six is regarded as the elite of the elite, along with the CIA’s Special Activities Division. I wasn’t sure about the British SIS, or if the Increment had been overtaken by a new designation, but I knew they had one.

‘This is not something any of our in-house people could deal with without attracting attention.’

I was intrigued. Vale had already convinced me that he worked for British Intelligence, which implied that he had access to plenty of resources and personnel. Yet here he was looking for an outsider.

‘So if anybody goes down, there’s no rescue plan.’

‘I’m afraid not.’

‘Is this deniable?’ Deniable meant that if an operative’s cover was blown or they got into a bind while on a mission, he or she was on their own. It usually applied where the fall-out from any government launching something on foreign soil would be too loud and messy, such as covert assignments involving spies or black ops teams.

‘Our two people will have official status, that’s to say, Foreign Office personnel engaged on a mercy mission. But you won’t. For various reasons, I need someone so far past deniable they don’t even exist.’ He stared hard at me with eyes that were beyond cold. ‘That means nobody — not even the two individuals involved, unless absolutely unavoidable — must get a sniff that you’re out there.’

This sounded deeply personal to Vale and I wondered why. If what he had told me was true, he was an SIS official, aware of, or compliant with, a major operation being undertaken on foreign soil, involving the insertion of personnel. Yet he was running his own side operation off the books, with no traces, no footprints, nothing.

It was a dangerous thing to be doing. So why?

He read my mind. ‘I want to protect one of the officers involved but I can’t do it officially.’

‘Is it illegal?’

‘Not the official assignment, no. That has full sanction at the highest level. But I believe it’s risky for the potential return. What I’m planning is probably illegal — although I haven’t run it past any of our legal experts. I doubt they would approve.’

‘I see. What happens if your colleagues find out what you’re doing?’

‘I would lose my job and in all likelihood serve a prison term.’ He looked as pragmatic as he sounded. He’d weighed up his chances and decided to go ahead.

‘Is this a UK-only thing?’

‘CIA has been briefed on the main operation, but they can’t be seen to help. No US citizens are involved. Only one of their officers knows about this, though, although not the full detail. He was one of the people who advised me on your background.’

CIA. I always get nervous around them. Some are very good people, but they use a lot of contractors like me, many of whom are former insiders who decided to go freelance. Given time and certain incentives, some of them have been known to go a little off the reservation when it comes to loyalties.

‘Which one?’

‘Scheider. He’s their London Deputy Station Chief.’

Never heard of him. ‘OK. What’s so special about your officer that he needs my help? I take it it’s personal?’

Vale pushed his coffee away. ‘It’s not a he, but a she.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I’ve made many decisions in the past, Mr Portman, that have involved dangers for field operatives. But I never sent an officer or an asset out that I didn’t consider up to the situation. In my opinion this operation is all wrong. It’s predicated solely on success and the career ripples for the man running it, without thought for the personnel. I can’t put my finger on it, but something about it doesn’t feel right.’

‘And the field operative?’

‘They’ll be throwing her away and there’s not a thing I can do to stop it.’ He blinked. ‘Officially, at least.’