The Watchman

Sixty-Three

Vale rang the embassy in Nairobi, where Pryce was waiting for a transfer to the airport and a military flight out. He was put through to the military attaché, Colonel Prior, to check security was in place, and asked to speak to Pryce.

‘She’s exhausted,’ Prior told him. ‘Can’t you leave it?’

‘If I could, I would. Put her on.’ Vale’s tone was civil, but only just. Having a solicitous army officer get in his way was the last thing he needed.

Angela Pryce came on. She sounded tired but alert.

‘I won’t keep you long,’ he told her. ‘I know you’ve been through a lot.’

‘That’s OK, sir. How can I help?’

‘Tell me what happened. This is a recorded briefing, so keep it short and to the point. You know the drill.’

She hesitated, and he sensed the puzzlement in her voice. ‘Sir, shouldn’t I wait to speak to Mr Moresby about this?’

She was correct; operationally, she should be reporting to Moresby or one of his nominated de-briefers. The same with Tober, to cross-match the information. Asking her to speak to himself first was a violation of his remit, but since he’d already blown that out of the water from the start, what was another infraction along the way?

‘Of course. And you will. But I’d like an outline first — especially about your escape … and how you saw the situation developing.’

When she replied, the tension in her voice was clear. ‘Haven’t you asked Portman that question?’

‘I’ll come to that later. Tell me what happened, from the time you arrived in Nairobi. It’s important.’

‘Very well.’ She cleared her throat and Vale punched a button on the desk console and sat back to let her talk.

Ten minutes later, her voice tailed off with tiredness and, he guessed, a degree of shock at reliving the experience.

‘I’m sorry I put you through that,’ he told her. ‘But it was necessary.’ He didn’t need to remind her that she would have to go through it again when she arrived back at Vauxhall Cross — and in more rigorous detail. Debriefing was a necessary evil for all operatives returning from an assignment and she would have gone through the process enough times already to be aware of the format.

‘I understand, sir. Is there any news of Doug Tober?’

‘He’s still out there, but that’s all I can tell you. He’s being looked after, I promise.’ He had his fingers mentally crossed as he said it. In spite of Portman’s assurances, any medical problems could change dramatically within minutes, especially with untreated wounds. Tober was tough, as his job demanded, but he wasn’t in the best of locations to be walking around with holes in him.

‘Who is Portman?’ Pryce’s words brought him back. ‘He’s not one of ours, I know that.’

Vale wondered how much to tell her. Not that it made much difference to himself if the attack dogs came after him following his talk with Moresby. But the less he revealed about Portman the better; he owed the man that much and more.

‘He’s someone I sent out to watch your backs,’ he said simply. ‘A professional shadow.’

She was silent for a second, then said, ‘Thank you. I’m glad you did. He sounds American. Is he one of their black ops people?’

‘To be honest,’ he said candidly, ‘I’m not sure what he is. Does it matter?’

‘No.’ She sighed down the line. ‘I suppose not. I’d like to thank him one day, though. And apologize. I was snarky when he first got us out; he must think me an ungrateful bitch after all he did.’

Vale chuckled. He could imagine it. ‘Don’t worry — I’ll make sure he knows.’

He replaced the phone and sat back. He felt adrift, unable to decide on the next course of action. So much now depended on Portman and Tober making their way out of Somalia any way they could. What could he do to help them?

He reached for a sheet of paper in the centre of his desk. Under the right circumstances, it was the kind of document which, in a certain light could be used to end a career. In this case, Moresby’s.

He read it through again. It was a briefing document which had come his way through uncertain channels. Six months ago, a proposal was put before a Special Committee on Security to actively pursue certain groups involved in kidnapping in the Gulf region, effectively to neutralize them. The operation was code-named ‘Adventure’, after, it was suggested without irony, the legendary pirate Captain Blackbeard’s last boat at the time of his death.

The proposal suggested using a small but highly mobile group of former special forces personnel with SAS and SBS backgrounds, supported by drone coverage and a rapid reaction force stationed offshore. Ostensibly there for public knowledge to counter pirate activity, in reality they were to be used as added firepower as and when needed.

The budget would be considerable and highly secret. Several precedents would be used for employing such personnel and tactics outside the remit of the MOD and approved government procedure, but for the most part the lines would be suitably blurred.

There had been criticism of the scheme from the Joint Intelligence Committee, but in the face of a growing threat, it was making its way through the various committees and looked like getting the nod.

The person with overall responsibility for selecting the targets and focussing the Adventure on them was generally recognized as someone with an intelligence background and with access to and familiarity with the latest intelligence resources, in the UK and elsewhere. One cynical observer had already suggested that the person in charge would be catapaulted up the totem pole to honours and status, and would almost certainly be a lead contender as a future Director of SIS.

A keen backer of the scheme and, it was said, the initial proposer and almost certainly the first name in the hat, was Colin Moresby.

Vale was uncertain. If he was honest, it was a scheme for which he felt empathy. Too much ground had been lost over recent years by bowing to legislation and political correctness; ground that was going to be hard to win back from extremists and rogue elements assisted by naïve law makers.

Had Moresby been secretly using the possibility of SIS losses in the meeting with Musa as a springboard to gaining full approval for his plan — for ‘Adventure’? If successful, it would undoubtedly have made his career. Or was Vale’s own desire to see the man brought down leading him to see things that were not really there?

He reached behind him and dropped the sheet of paper in the shredder, where it vanished into tiny fragments. If he had any time left, and had to reserve his scheming for anybody, let it be the real enemy.

He picked up the phone. As Portman had suggested, he knew the coordinates of the villa. He also knew the resources available to do what was needed. All he had to do was find a way of asking.