The Enemy

CHAPTER 59

Sofia, Bulgaria

Victor had been in the city for twenty-four hours after returning from the US, via Canada. He’d done the same on the way in to American too, to avoid the fingerprinting and photographing of flying directly. He sat at his hotel-room desk and used his new laptop to make the scheduled call with Procter.

The line connected and Procter said, ‘My partner is dead.’

‘I didn’t think you had it in you.’

‘I didn’t,’ Procter admitted, voice strained, ‘but someone else did.’

‘I can’t say I’m sorry about that,’ Victor said.

‘He was a good man.’

‘I’ll take your word for it.’

‘Do,’ Procter insisted.

‘I hope you’re not going to ask me to avenge him.’

‘No,’ Procter said. ‘I wouldn’t, even if I wanted to. He made his bed. Now he’s lying in it.’

’Where does that leave us?’

‘Well, I’m still a little sore about the bomb you left under my car.’

‘I told you which wire to cut, didn’t I?’

‘Yeah, you did. So I guess we’re even. I take it you got my message about Mossad looking for you in Barcelona?’

‘I did. And I haven’t been there in years.’

‘There we go then. They’re chasing shadows. Keep your head down and it will stay that way. Resources are already being diverted at the agency. Soon, neither of us will have to worry. And I don’t know about you, but I’m going to take a vacation. I fancy somewhere hot and remote.’

‘Sounds nice.’

‘You should do the same. You can afford it. I’ve paid you the second half of the Kasakov fee.’

‘I’m surprised.’

‘You only failed because of the intervention of my associate. That’s not your fault. I’ve done the same with the Yamout job. You could not have foreseen Mossad’s involvement.’

‘I appreciate the gesture.’

‘That’s a clever way of thanking me without actually having to say thank you.’

‘I thought so too.’

There was a pause, and Victor felt Procter’s smile. ‘So, my man. We’re done. You went after Kasakov, as agreed, and I’m a man of my word. You’re no longer obligated to me. You’re a free man. Enjoy your retirement. It’s yours if you want it.’

Victor ignored the comment, for now. He said, ‘Tell me something: why go after Kasakov and Ariff the way you did?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Why do it under the radar, using someone like me instead of a CIA team? Kasakov and Ariff can’t be popular in Washington.’

‘They’re not,’ Procter agreed. ‘But Kasakov has been the Kremlin’s golden boy for a long time now. He’s made them billions in sales. If there was any hint of the CIA’s hand in his death there would be one hell of a shitstorm from Moscow. Would such a shitstorm bother me? No, sir. But Capitol Hill doesn’t share my sentiments. With Ariff the prime suspect, however, it’s a different story.’

‘That’s one half of it.’

‘I don’t follow.’

‘Surely it would have been better to send a snatch-and-grab team after Ariff once you knew where he was hiding out. He could still have taken the blame for Kasakov’s death, but you could hand him over to the ICC on war crimes charges and score a major PR coup.’ Victor paused. ‘Unless Ariff being grilled by prosecutors was something you very much did not want to happen. What did he have on you?’

There was a moment of silence before Procter said, ‘I used to run Ariff, back in the day. It’s no secret the CIA supplied Afghan Mujahideen with Stingers to knock Soviet choppers out of the skies in the eighties. But I was the guy on the ground who got those missiles into ’Stan by using Ariff, who already had donkey trains carrying AKs across the border from Pakistan.’

‘Why would that matter now?’

‘Because even before Ariff was supplying guns and components for IEDS to Americas enemies in Iraq and Afghanistan, he was a known scumbag. Back then he supplied the PLO, Black September, Hezbollah, and every other terrorist organisation from Tripoli to Tehran. The explosives that blew up the Marine barracks in Lebanon in ’83 were from Ariff. I knew all that, but I still used him, without CIA consent. We live in a post-911 world, my man, and Ariff dropping my name at The Hague would have caused me a heap of hurt. So, yeah, I got something out of all this too. Satisfied?’

‘Surprisingly, yes.’

‘You’ve got your answers now, and you’ve got your freedom.’ Procter said, ‘So, is this where we go our separate ways?’

Victor had spent the last few days thinking about little else. Procter had withheld information from him, creating extra problems, extra risks. But he had revealed his identity to prove Victor could trust him. That meant a lot.

He said, ‘I don’t feel the same pressing need to part company I felt before.’

‘I hoped you’d say that. But I didn’t expect you to.’

‘When my actions become predictable, my life will fall into the past tense.’

‘Does this mean that you finally trust me?’

‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.’

Another pause, maybe for another smile, before Procter said, ‘I’ll contact you when I need you again.’

‘Which will be?’

‘I don’t know. Could be a while.’

‘Suits me,’ Victor said. ‘It’s been a long two months.’

‘For you and me both.’ Procter paused a moment and said. ‘Take care.’

The line disconnected. Victor opened up an internet browser and accessed his other email accounts. He had another email from Alonso and two from other brokers. The contracts offered were for high figures and low risks. They would be simple to complete without Procter’s knowledge.

Victor deleted the emails and deactivated the accounts.

For the first time in a long time he felt truly relaxed. He made a phone call.

Adrianna answered with a cheery, ‘ Allo.’

‘It’s Emmanuel,’ Victor said. ‘How do you fancy a day in Sofia?’