Games Traitors Play

24

‘I’m sorry,’ Myers said, cracking a knuckle so loudly it made Harriet Armstrong jump. The American, Australian and Canadian representatives had all left the Cabinet Room for the second half of the Joint Intelligence Committee, which was traditionally for UK agencies only. ‘I know I should have briefed you all before, and I know it wasn’t my business, but — ’

‘I think, in the light of your initial analysis, we can overlook the histrionics of the second act,’ Fielding said, turning to Chadwick for formal approval.

‘Of course, it was a significant breach of JIC protocol,’ Chadwick said. ‘But I agree, an exception can be made.’

‘Does that unit actually work?’ Armstrong asked, nodding at the handset in front of Myers. She was back to wearing her familiar severe suit jackets. Apart from her crocked knee, the only other visible legacy of her Indian adventure was a silver necklace, which had a hint of tribal art about it. She had also confided in Fielding that her mornings now began with half an hour of Vipassana yoga, something she wholly recommended as a way of getting through tedious meetings at the Home Office.

Myers picked up the handset.

‘I tested it this morning. With the direct audio input between the two units, it sounds just like a phone call is being made.’

‘So what now?’ Chadwick said. ‘Dhar is clearly not only alive, but several steps ahead of the Americans.’

‘It might not have been Dhar’s doing,’ Armstrong said. ‘All that was needed was a recording of his voice and his old SIM card, both of which could have easily been procured by Iran, his previous sponsors.’

‘Our view remains that Dhar’s too hot for Tehran,’ Fielding said.

‘So where is he?’ Chadwick asked.

‘Daniel Marchant is on his way back from Morocco,’ Fielding replied.

‘No surprise there. I don’t think anyone seriously expected that avenue to yield anything, did we, Marcus?’ Chadwick had been opposed to Marchant’s trip to Morocco from the start, fearing that it would only aggravate Britain’s already fragile relationship with America.

‘I know you didn’t,’ Fielding said. He had never had much time for Chadwick, and often wondered if the Americans had been on to something when they had tried to frame him. ‘As you all know, we had hoped Dhar would make contact with his half-brother, but he never did. However, something has come up in the last twenty-four hours which suggests that Marchant might have been right about Dhar seeking refuge in North Africa.’

The assembled chiefs looked up, but before Fielding could tell them about the unmarked helicopter in the Atlas mountains, there was a knock on the door and Ian Denton, now Fielding’s Assistant Chief, put his lean face around the door.

‘Marcus, sorry to interrupt, but I’m afraid Daniel Marchant’s dropped off the grid.’ Denton’s voice, laced with a hint of a Hull accent, had become even more sotto voce since his promotion, Fielding thought, but he liked the fact that his trained ear was alone in hearing every word. It was almost as if Denton was speaking in a code known only to his Chief. ‘He was meant to have boarded a flight from Marrakech this morning, but he flew out using his snap cover from Agadir.’

‘And?’ Fielding asked, wondering whether Spiro had already left the building. If Marchant had been taken, it could only be on the CIA’s orders. They had done it once before, smuggling him out of Britain on a rendition flight to Poland. Spiro had given assurances that it would never happen again, but he had evidently hoped the death of Dhar would serve as a distraction.

‘The local airline filed a false flightplan,’ Denton said. ‘All we know is that the plane has a very limited range.’

‘Find Spiro and bring him back here. And if he complains, tell him we’ve decided to go public about Dhar.’