Deception

FIFTEEN

Deakin’s phone buzzed. He excused himself and checked the screen. A text message had come in. When he put the phone down he looked troubled. ‘That was our man in London. The MOD sent an investigator to ask questions about Lieutenant Tan.’ He looked at Paulton and explained, ‘Our latest target is an aide to the Deputy Commander ISAF. She went walkabout after leaving Kabul. We don’t know what she’s got in her head, but the MOD’s blowing up a shit storm about her. This investigator is a new development. They must really want her back.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ Paulton murmured. ‘It’s bad news for the MOD, losing an officer in her position. Highly embarrassing for the British military establishment, too. The Americans in particular won’t be too impressed.’

‘It could be good for us, though.’ Deakin twirled his glass on the table. ‘If they’ve put someone on her trail, it means they have no idea where she is. That gives us time to find her first. This could be a big one, gentlemen; someone in her position probably has more current strategic information at her fingertips about the campaign in Afghanistan and the command staff involved than any of the others put together. If we get her onside and ready to trade, I believe we can name our own price.’

‘Except that we don’t know where she is either,’ Nicholls pointed out.

Deakin sat back. ‘True. But if she’s plugged into the network the way the others are, she might get in touch.’ The information grapevine which guided many absconding soldiers into reaching out to the Protectory for help was amazingly efficient, yet did not betray any details of the men who ran it — Deakin and his colleagues worked very hard at keeping it that way. It had proved effective so far, with Pike and Barrow being two recent examples of where doors had to be slammed shut to prevent a leakage of information by runners who changed their minds.

‘As long as she plays ball,’ said Nicholls.

Nobody disagreed with that. The one weak point in the way the Protectory operated was that not all their ‘projects’ were guaranteed to trade information for the promise of a new life and new identity. Serving personnel decided to jump the fence for all sorts of reasons, including fear, sickness, religious principles, right through to a change in philosophical outlook. Not all of them felt so disenchanted with their lot that they could easily break the oath of loyalty they had taken and sell country, regiment and — most importantly — former comrades for the chance of a new life.

‘She sounds a real prize.’ Paulton was holding his wine glass to his nose, breathing in the aroma and staring at Deakin with a measured gaze over the rim. It gave him an almost professorial air of superiority.

‘Hang on a sec. Aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves?’ Turpowicz gave Paulton a sideways look, then glanced at Deakin. ‘Exactly how much does he know about this?’ His tone suggested that if it were true, Deakin had gone too far in revealing details of their targeted deserters to an outsider.

‘Everything.’ Deakin paused for a moment to let that sink in. ‘George already knows what we do. I briefed him on our current projects because he has a line on some new contacts in the market place; contacts who will guarantee us a better price for what we sell. He knows the current thinking in the British and American security establishments, which is vital to us if we are to continue in safety, and I felt he had a right to our confidence in return for his help.’

‘In that case,’ Nicholls said coolly, ‘it’s rather too late in the day to argue about it, isn’t it? But what makes George here so all-knowing? Does he come with special credentials?’ He stared hard at Paulton as if challenging him to say otherwise.

‘I do, actually,’ said Paulton calmly. ‘I spent many years working for the British government. . in the Security Services, should you be interested.’ He smiled at the look of shock on the faces of Turpowicz and Nicholls. ‘Sadly, we had a little disagreement and I was forced to leave. I now find myself at a loose end and, knowing Thomas here, I decided to get in touch and offer my services.’ He fixed a steady gaze on Nicholls. ‘Is that satisfactory or would you like to check my shirt size?’

‘We’ll have to see, won’t we?’ Nicholls looked calm enough, and nodded for Deakin to continue. Before he could speak, however, Paulton chipped in, leaning forward to add emphasis and authority to his words.

‘I realize you have reservations about me, gentlemen — which I understand, believe me. I would, too, in your place. But let me say this: Tom’s absolutely right about the opportunity here. From what you’ve told me, an extremely bright young woman joins the British army and moves into a position of vital importance, working alongside the Deputy Commander ISAF in Kabul. She will have seen documents, data, plans and people from David Petraeus on down. There are very few at her level who would have had this kind of access. Very few.’ He looked around but nobody interrupted him. It was a clear sign that his position was already established, even after such a brief time. ‘And now this bright young woman with a superior brain has gone walkabout. . and the British MOD has put an investigator on her trail. Believe me, gentlemen, they don’t do that lightly. It must mean they think she’s worth it for whatever information she has in her head.’ He paused again, demonstrating his skill at holding an audience. ‘It won’t be just the British concerned about that, either. Your former bosses, Mr Turpowicz, must be equally keen to see her returned to the fold of the godly before she can unload what she knows about Petraeus and his home team.’

‘Maybe.’ Turpowicz was unconvinced. ‘Get to the point.’

‘My point is simple. If we find Lieutenant Tan. . locating a suitable buyer for what she knows will be a matter of course. In fact, I may already have one in mind.’