Will found that his breathing was heavy and trembling. He pointed his handgun at the new arrival.
'Really? And who the fuck,' he asked, spitting the words out, 'are you?'
TWO
The man in the overcoat ignored Will's question.
'I'm delighted to see that your skills haven't completely deserted you,' he commented. 'It costs Her Majesty's government a lot of money to train up our special forces. It would be a desperate shame if all that money and effort went out of the window the moment they go back to civvy street.'
Will kept his gun trained on the man, who did not seem unduly worried. Instead, he looked over at his colleague lying on the floor. 'You can get up now,' he said.
'Stay on the fucking ground! 'Will barked. 'You get up when I say so and not before.' He strode towards the figure in the overcoat, his arm stretched out until the gun was firmly against the man's forehead. 'I'm going to ask you one more time,' he whispered. 'Who are you?'
The man remained perfectly still. 'Lowther Pankhurst,' he replied. 'Sir Lowther Pankhurst if you want to be strictly accurate. You can just call me Sir.'
'In case you hadn't noticed, 'Will replied, his voice shaking with anger, 'I've got a gun to your head. I'll call you anything I like.'
Pankhurst sighed. 'You really don't know who I am, do you, Will?'
'Should I?'
'Two years ago I believe my name would have been passingly familiar to you, yes. I'm the Director General of MI5. Offhand, I'm not entirely sure how many laws you're breaking holding that gun to my head, but I imagine it's enough to keep you behind bars for the rest of your life. I think now would be a good time to put it down, don't you?'
Will looked him in the eye and Pankhurst stared back confidently. He showed no signs that he was lying, but Will didn't move. 'I don't believe you,' he said. 'What would the head of Five be doing here with a couple of inept spooks?'
'Inept?' Pankhurst replied, surprise in his voice. 'Oh, they're not inept. They're good, actually. Just not as good as you. 'He sniffed. 'Even if you have been drinking.' He raised his voice. 'Would you be so good as to show Mr Jackson some identification?' he called in the direction of the two suited men.
They approached, each holding an ID card of some description. Will barely looked at them. 'OK, fine, pleased to meet you,' he said sarcastically as he lowered the gun. 'Now what the hell do you want?'
Pankhurst made a display of brushing down the lapels of his coat with his fingertips. 'In answer to your previous question,' he said, without looking at Will, 'I'm here in person as a matter of courtesy.'
Will scoffed. 'What are you talking about? Bill and Ben over there just put a gun to me. I'm afraid your idea of courtesy and mine are a bit different.'
'The alternative,' Pankhurst replied with a smile, 'was to send a team in to get you in the middle of the night and bring you back to London under duress. I think that would really have set us off on the wrong foot, don't you?'
'What are you talking about?'
Pankhurst looked at the two spooks and gestured at them to move out of earshot. 'Shall we walk, Will?' he suggested. Without waiting for an answer, he headed back into the graveyard. Will followed.
'I've read your file,' Pankhurst said. 'You've been through a lot. You have my sympathy.'
'I don't want your sympathy,' he replied.
'No. I don't imagine you do. But you have it nevertheless. Nobody should have to go through what you've been through.'
Will clenched his jaw as they continued to walk among the graves. 'You didn't come all the way down here to tell me how sorry you are.'
'No,' Pankhurst said flatly. 'I didn't. I came down here to ask for your help.'
Will's eyes flickered sideways towards him. Pankhurst was looking straight ahead. Cool. Emotionless.
'Sorry, mate. 'Will was damned if he was going to call this guy 'sir'.'I've done my bit for queen and country. You're barking up the wrong tree.'
They walked on in silence.
'The thing about working for queen and country,'
Pankhurst said quietly, 'is that it's we who decide when you've finished. Not officially, of course, but we have our methods.'
Will stopped. 'Are you threatening me?'
Pankhurst turned to look at him and smiled. 'Of course not, Will. I wouldn't do that to a colleague. I'm just making you aware of certain practicalities.' His face became serious. 'We really do need your help, Will. And not just us. The lives of thousands of people might just rely on you making the right decision. You're right, I could have sent anyone down here to talk to you and no doubt you would have sent them packing. This is more important than that, so I wanted to come and speak to you in person.'
'Why me? 'Will asked. 'What the hell can I do? I've been out of the game for two years now.'
Pankhurst's nose twitched. 'You work out or go running almost every day,' he noted. 'You drink heavily a couple of times a week. Not much different from being at Credenhill, I'd say.'
Will's eyes narrowed.
'Oh, we've been keeping an eye on you, Will. And actually there are certain reasons why you're ideal for what we have in mind. It's complicated and I can't explain here. I'd like to invite you to come back up with me to London. Now.'
Will looked around. The spooks were following at a discreet distance and a few members of the public had started to wander around the graveyard.
'It doesn't sound to me like I have much choice,' he remarked.
Pankhurst's smile grew broader. 'No,' he replied, conversationally.
'You don't.'
Will's request to head home and pick up a few things was denied and once the gun had been politely but firmly removed from him by one of the spooks, he was escorted to the waiting car. Its windows were blacked out and its interior plush, but Will felt uncomfortable as he sat in the back next to Pankhurst, while the spooks sat up front. Barely a word was exchanged as they sped up the motorway towards London.
As they travelled, Will gazed through the darkened window at the scenery speeding by. He had not left Hereford for two years — he felt as if there were an invisible bond tying him to that lonely gravestone, as though moving too far from it was a betrayal of sorts. Driving towards London, the place where they had died, seemed wrong. Funny, he thought to himself, how he could spend half his life in theatres of war in the most godforsaken parts of the world, yet a simple trip to London could put him on edge.
Then he looked around him. The director of MI5 was sitting next to him; two spooks were up front. He had to remind himself that actually, this was anything but a simple trip to London. What could they possibly want with him? All he knew how to do was fight and there must be a hundred other people — highly trained and still in service — who could do that as well as him. No matter how hard he thought about it, he simply couldn't work out Pankhurst's game plan.
It took two hours to get to the outskirts of London, and another hour to struggle through the traffic to Thames House, MI5's headquarters on Millbank. Once they arrived, Pankhurst escorted Will to an office at the top of a building in an out of the way corner. An efficient-looking secretary was waiting outside the office to greet them and she gave Will what he thought was a slightly disapproving look. Probably used to men in suits, he thought to himself.
'Coffee?' Pankhurst asked.
'Yeah,' Will replied. 'Black.'