Thunder God

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

As the ancient transport aircraft cruised at twenty-eight thousand feet on its way to Xian, Hawke tried to get some sleep but he was kept awake by the same persistent thoughts that had been torturing his mind for so long. His final attempt to get some sleep was stopped when Olivia Hart sat beside him. She was holding half a bottle of baijiu.

“What the hell is that?” he asked.

“They call it Chinese vodka.” She unscrewed the cap. “Do you regret leaving the service, Joe?” Hart asked. Good old Olivia, straight to business.

Hawke thought about how to answer for a few moments. “No,” he said at last.

Hart laughed. “I waited a minute and half for that answer! Typical Joe Hawke.”

“What?” he asked, smiling.

“Nothing…. but why don’t you ever want to talk about yourself?”

“Just the way I am. I like to keep my thoughts to myself. That’s why I make the jokes.”

“You make jokes?” she said. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Very droll, Commodore,” he replied. “But no, I don’t regret it. I did, when I was contemplating working in Civvy Street, but then I met Lea Donovan and Sir Richard Eden and my whole life changed.”

“But that wasn’t so long ago, Joe. It could all end in a heartbeat. What then?”

He shrugged his shoulders and sipped the vodka. He hated neat vodka. “I’ll find something. I always do.”

“Joe Hawke the eternal optimist,” Hart said. “You think you’re in love with Lea?”

“I don’t like to talk about myself,” he said, smirking. “Did I not just say that thirty seconds ago?”

“You did… you did, yes. Just be careful, Joe. She works a tough, dangerous job. She could get hurt, or worse. You have to remember about how you felt when Liz was murdered. You can’t go through that again.”

Hawke looked across the aircraft and watched Lea Donovan for a moment, sleeping peacefully as the plane cut through the air. “I won’t let anything happen to Lea,” he said, clenching his jaw. He gripped the vodka bottle hard. Hart had put the image of Liz back into his mind — her terrible death, the inability to avenge her, the permanent absence of closure that tore at his heart and mind every minute of every day.

“Believe it or not, Joe, there are some things in this world that are outside of your control.”

“I know that!” he snapped. “I’m… sorry. It’s just that I learned that lesson back in Vietnam.”

For a long time Hart was silent. Then she spoke quietly: “I’m sorry, Joe. I didn’t mean to upset you. You’re right. I’ll shut up now.”

“I wish you would, thanks.” He smiled. He’d known Olivia Hart for nearly twenty years. In many ways she was like a second sister — but unlike his younger sister, Emma, Olivia would definitely be of the older, more maternal variety. She was a friend, either way.

“Actually…” She started to speak again, but stopped herself.

“What now, Olivia?” Hawke said, trying to conceal a smile.

“Someone told me something a few days ago, Joe, and I didn't know how to react to it.”

“Doesn’t sound like the intrepid Commodore Hart we’ve all come to know and slightly like.”

“I’m serious, Joe. It was about Hanoi.”

Hawke sat up in his chair and was suddenly all business. His eyes widened and he fixed them on Hart. She looked strangely nervous, and worse than that, hesitant.

“What is it, Olivia?” he asked. “Don't play around with me on this.”

“First of all, it was nothing official. You understand what I mean by that, right?”

Hawke nodded. “Of course. Get on with it. Who was the contact?”

“No one you know.”

“British or foreign?”

“British services, Joe. Army man, very senior and an old friend. He knew John before he died.”

Hawke saw the look of pain in Hart’s eyes when she referred to her former husband. “What’s his name?”

Hart shook her head. “No way. If what he said has even the slightest grain of truth in it then this needs to be kept as tight as possible. If I tell you his name then his life could be at risk in the future. You can handle yourself, Joe, but my friend is retiring this year and has a life of sailing and hill-walking ahead of him. He can do without the particular brand of hell you seem to spend so much time fighting your way out of.”

“Fair enough, all I need to know is if you consider him to be reliable.”

“Absolutely reliable. As straight as they get. That’s why he never got past brigadier.”

“And what did the mysterious Brigadier X tell you about Hanoi, Olivia?”

Hart swallowed and for a long time kept her silence. She closed her eyes for a while, as if she were rehearsing what she was about to say, or maybe even reconsidering saying it at all.

Hawke spoke again. “If this is has anything to do with why they tried to kill me in Hanoi, then I need to know, and right now.”

Hart was looking into his eyes now, and he could see something was troubling her a great deal. “That’s just it, Joe, back on that terrible day in Hanoi it wasn’t you they were trying to kill.”

Hawke felt confusion wash over him like a tidal wave. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. You mean it was just a bungled robbery or something?”

“No, Joe. My contact told me that it was your wife, Liz, who was the target, not you.”

Hawke’s world came to a stop. It felt like everything had slowed to a standstill, from the jet racing across the sky to the very act of drawing his own breath. Liz was the target? He could hardly believe he’d even heard such a thing, and if those mad words hadn’t come from the mouth of Olivia Hart he wouldn’t have believed them at all.

“What the hell are you saying?” he asked.

“My contact told me that Liz was the target, and not you. He was very clear about this and told me the information was one hundred percent reliable. I’m so sorry, Joe, I really am. I don't know what to say.”

His mind raced with the craziest of thoughts. He tried anything he could do to make sense of it, to try and think a way out of it that made sense to him, but nothing came. It felt like something was crushing his head.

“I still don’t get it. It was easy for me to understand that I was the target. Back then I was a Special Forces operative in the most covert unit in the world. We’d been involved in some pretty dodgy stuff in North Korea and I presumed it was a professional government-sponsored hit on me in revenge for that, but…”

“But what?”

“Its just that one thing that always bothered me was how I was the only member of the unit who was targeted.”

Hart nodded slowly. It looked as if she had more to say. Finally, she spoke. “So you had doubts?”

“Yes — but never that Liz was the target! She was just a translator in the MOD, Olivia! Why would anyone want to kill her? What possible reason could anyone in Hanoi have to put a professional hit on her?” He stared once again at Lea, snuggling into her seat beside the far window. Outside the morning sun was lighting the tops of the clouds purple and pink. It would have been beautiful except for the bombshell that had just been dropped on his life.

“Joe, I want you to promise me you’re not going to go crazy when I tell you this.”

He felt the crushing feeling once again, and gripped the armrest of his seat with all his strength. “What?”

“It had nothing to do with Hanoi. The kill order came from the UK.”

Hawke almost felt dizzy. Now he had heard it all.

“From the UK?”

She nodded grimly. “The Brigadier told me that Liz was the target, that the order came out of London, and…”

“And what? Is there a name?”

“No, but… he told me that it was called Operation Swallowtail.”

“It was an actual operation?” Hawke couldn’t take it all in. A codenamed operation meant premeditation, planning, organization and money. It meant authority and reach. It meant trouble.

“Yes, but forget about researching Swallowtail. I’ve looked into it as far as you can go, and so did my army friend, and there’s just nothing out there. We have no idea who was behind Swallowtail.”

“You mean who was behind the murder of my wife.”

“Yes… I'm sorry, I…”

“Forget it. If it wasn't for you I wouldn’t know any of this. I’d still be in the dark, like the proverbial mushroom, being fed bullshit from above.”

“Joe…”

“Swallowtail…” his voice seemed far away now. His mind was awash with fresh images of Liz — how they met, the jokes they shared, their wedding day on the coast and how excited they were when they boarded the plane to Vietnam. The way she looked at him when she first saw Vietnam. “Swallowtail… some bastard plotted my wife’s death and had her gunned down right in front of me.” He was silent for a long time.

“It was a long time ago, Joe.”

“It was, but you know what the funny thing is?”

“No. Tell me the funny thing.”

“That the piece of shit who ordered the kill thinks he got away with it.”

“I know what you’re going through — you know I do. But your mind has to be focused on Sheng now, Joe. You know that. Remember your training. I only told you now I case I don’t make it. If there’s revenge to be had over what happened to Liz then you’ll have it, but now’s not the time.”

Hawke frowned and stared out the tiny porthole. He knocked back another swig of the baijiu. Yes, he thought, the Commodore was right as usual, and on both counts.

Yes, it was time to focus on Sheng.

And yes, he would get his revenge.