Games Traitors Play

105

Marchant still had a sore back from the Zvezda ejection seat, but otherwise he felt fine as he waited in one of the debriefing rooms for Fielding to return for a second visit. At Marchant’s request, the helicopter had taken him to the Fort, MI6’s training facility at Gosport, after picking him up from the Bristol Channel. The pilot had initially objected, but it was eventually agreed after some calls had been put through to Whitehall. Marchant had been given a physical check-up, then allowed to rest in one of the old rooms overlooking the sea, where he had studied as a new recruit with Leila.

As Marchant had explained to Fielding, he had thought Dhar was dead when he first spotted him in the water, a hundred yards away. He had released himself from his parachute and swum over to him, dreading what he might find. A dead Dhar suited America, but not Britain. But Dhar was fine, if a little groggy. Marchant had doubted whether the trawler would show up, but a forty-foot vessel registered to St Ives was soon approaching from the south-west.

‘For a few moments, I thought I was going to drown,’ Dhar had said.

‘I know the feeling,’ Marchant had replied. When he had first hit the sea and water had filled his nostrils, memories of being waterboarded had come flooding back.

‘You know I cannot take you with me,’ Dhar said.

‘I’m not sure I’m invited,’ Marchant replied, glancing at the approaching trawler. They were both shivering, speaking slowly as they trod water. ‘Thanks, by the way.’

‘For what?’

‘For letting me come along. And for not destroying Cheltenham. Will the Russians be happy to see you?’

‘No. Georgia’s drunken generals will still try to impress America. But it is time for me to move on. Islam is sometimes useful to Russia, but mostly it is a threat.’

‘And you never did get to see Tarlton.’

‘Next time, perhaps.’

‘How will you make contact? The storytellers of Marrakech?’

Dhar smiled at Marchant. ‘You know me too well. My taxi is here.’

Marchant swam away as the trawler drew near. He wanted to be at a safe distance in case the SVR had already concluded that he wasn’t such a committed defector after all.

‘Our father, he would have approved,’ Marchant called out, hoping that Dhar could still hear him. ‘Family business.’

Now, as he heard someone approaching the debriefing room at Gosport, Marchant was certain that he had turned Dhar. Last time, after India, he had hoped in vain.

It was Fielding who knocked and appeared in the doorway.

‘I’ve brought someone along to see you,’ he said, slipping away as Lakshmi Meena entered the room.

‘Is your arm OK?’ Marchant asked as they embraced. Her wrist was in plaster, and her hug was not quite as warm as his.

‘I’m fine. How about you? I went by your flat, brought you some clean clothes.’

‘Thanks. Was the door open?’ They both smiled. Then she kissed him gently on the lips.

‘I found this, too. It had been delivered. I thought it might be important. The rest of your post was just bills.’

She held up a padded envelope, addressed to him in unfamiliar handwriting. Marchant looked at it, then put it on a table to one side.

‘How’s Spiro?’

‘Mad at me for not preventing your so-called defection.’

‘Even though I stopped him killing your Defense Secretary and his generals?’

‘You still took down a $155-million Raptor. The media lapped that up.’

‘I hope they’re keeping me out of it.’

‘It’s been agreed by London and Washington to airbrush you from the story. It was getting kind of hard to explain.’

‘But it was a two-seater plane.’

‘The media are reporting a bold strike at the West by Salim Dhar and a jihadi brother.’

‘Half right, at least about the brother.’

‘You did well to stop him. I don’t suppose you have any idea where he is now?’

‘Is that you asking, or Spiro?’

‘Most of the Western world.’

Marchant hoped that one day he would be able to tell her that Dhar had been turned, that Britain now had an asset at the heart of the global jihad.

‘Is his mother safe? Shushma?’ At least he could talk to Lakshmi about her.

‘She’s fine. Spiro handed her over to MI6 when we landed back at Brize Norton. That was always the deal with Fielding. He wants a word with you on his own, by the way. I’ll get him.’

‘Will you stay after that? Please?’

‘Is a graduate of the Farm allowed to stay at the Fort?’

‘I’m sure it could be arranged, in the interests of a special relationship.’

Two minutes later, Fielding and Marchant had stepped outside the debriefing room, leaving Lakshmi on her own, and were walking along the perimeter fence that overlooked the sea. A warm wind blew in off the water, lifting strands of Fielding’s thinning hair. It was greyer than Marchant remembered.

‘You did well,’ Fielding said. ‘It was a tough call to make about GCHQ, but the right one. Dhar’s value has soared on the international jihadi markets. The chatrooms were ecstatic after his attempt on the President’s life in Delhi. This time they’re beside themselves. They never thought someone could strike at the heart of Western intelligence.’

‘I gather there were some casualties.’

‘I wanted to talk to you about that. While the government’s been playing down the damage, our stations abroad are exaggerating it to the foreign media. Well-placed sources are talking about cover-ups, crucial computer networks down for months, morale at GCHQ at an all-time low.’

‘And the truth?’

‘One death, thirty injuries. Minimal structural damage. But I’m afraid Paul Myers took quite a hit.’

‘Is he OK?’

‘Conscious, a little confused. He should make a full recovery. He’d been in the central garden, but he was hungry, and was on his way back inside to get something to eat when the bomb struck.’

‘Saved by a doughnut.’

They both laughed and walked on, watching the wind whip off the tops of the waves.

‘And you’re confident that Dhar is ours?’ Fielding eventually asked.

‘This time I am. We found some common ground.’

‘Coastguard located a drifting trawler just off the coast, by the way. Three dead Russians on board, no sign of Dhar.’

Marchant thought back to the sight of Dhar bobbing in the water. Even then, half drowned and semi-conscious, he had been full of confidence.

‘If this proves successful, we have your father to thank,’ Fielding continued. ‘You know we couldn’t have done it without him. A long time ago, he realised where the world was heading, and saw in his two sons a possible solution.’

‘The old man made some mistakes along the way.’

‘Did he?’

‘Trusting Hugo Prentice.’

‘We all did that.’

‘The silly thing is, I miss Hugo, despite everything he did.’

‘For while the treason I detest, the traitor still I love. Lakshmi’s waiting for you. Enjoy your evening. I have a meeting back in London with Denton. If I was a more suspicious man, I might think he was after my job.’