Brice snatched up the scissors with his left hand and thrust them into the man’s neck, driving their points deep into his carotid artery before yanking them back out. Blood spurted from the wound, the medic staggering back in shock. He clapped one palm over it, the other hand fumbling inside his jacket—
His attacker had noticed the holstered gun during the procedure. Brice snatched it out and shoulder-barged the medic across the kitchen.
A noise from behind. Brice whirled, bringing up the gun—
The second man crashed through the door, his own weapon raised — and took two bullets to the chest. Brice jumped aside as he fell, then whipped around to put a third round into the medic’s forehead. A vivid red explosion burst over the white wall behind him.
Brice quickly searched the corpses, taking their spare ammo and a set of car keys. Their phones would be trackable, but he collected one anyway; he had a call to make. His immediate priority was to get out of London before the net closed around him, then leave the country — and a plan to do so was already forming.
He had memorised a particular number, calling it as he headed for the front door. ‘Watch unit,’ he said. ‘This is Brice. Confirm that the target is still in place.’
‘She is, sir,’ came the reply. ‘But after what’s happened in London, should we stay on her? There must be more important things for us to do than watch a five-year-old girl.’
‘You’ll do more than stay on her,’ Brice growled as he emerged on to the street. He blipped the key fob, seeing the lights flash on a Ford Focus nearby. ‘I want you to pick her up immediately and bring her to me.’ He got into the car. ‘Macy Wilde Chase has just become a matter of national security.’
41
Sir Kirkland Armitage put down the phone and went to his office window, staring silently across the Thames. The call had delivered highly unwelcome news. The men at the safe house whom he had ordered to deal with John Brice had been found dead, their weapons missing. Of the deep-cover agent, there was no trace.
He had also learned that both Nina Wilde and her husband were now at the US embassy — and despite demands to turn them over to British authorities, ostensibly to face charges for the swathes of destruction they had carved while evading capture, the Americans had refused. The ambassador himself had made that clear, and C suspected his orders came directly from the White House.
Even without direct evidence to link himself and Hove to Brice’s attack, Wilde and Chase would be spilling their guts to the Americans. Suspicions would be raised, connections made… fingers pointed. And he had no doubts that Hove would turn upon him in a heartbeat to protect himself. As for what would happen if the Americans caught Brice…
C made a decision. He returned to his desk and called a subordinate. ‘Is Peter Alderley still in holding? Good. Bring him up to my office, immediately.’
He hung up, then opened a drawer. At the back was something he had never expected to need, but which he had placed there on his first day in the office out of force of paranoid habit gained from working in the field.
A gun.
He took out the Glock and checked it. The magazine was full, the slide moving smoothly when he racked it to chamber a round. Satisfied, he placed it back in the open drawer, within easy reach — but out of sight from anyone before him. Then he sat back and awaited his visitor’s arrival.
Alderley entered a few minutes later. ‘Wait outside,’ C ordered the guards who had escorted the section head. ‘I want to speak to him in private.’ They left the room.
‘What’s going on?’ Alderley demanded. ‘I know something big’s happened — I couldn’t miss it even stuck in a cell.’
‘Sit down, Peter,’ C said calmly. Alderley frowned, but took a place in front of the desk. His superior switched on a television, which lit up with a shocking still frame of the clock tower caught mid-collapse. ‘There’s been a terrorist attack on the Houses of Parliament. The current death toll is at least four hundred, including over two hundred MPs.’
Alderley struggled to overcome his horror. ‘So… so Nina and Chase were right about Brice—’
‘That’s why I’ve called you up here,’ C interrupted. ‘To find out what you think you know about this alleged plot by a former SIS officer, and how it connects to the crash of Flight 180 last year. Wilde and Chase are both being protected by the US embassy — as is Boxley from your team. Because of what they’ve said, the Yanks are making some extremely threatening noises towards our country. Not through diplomatic channels either. This comes direct from President Schilling. So: tell me.’
‘I’m sure I don’t know anything that you don’t already, sir,’ the moustachioed man said with no small sarcasm.
C jabbed a finger at him. ‘Don’t get clever with me, Alderley. National security is at stake here!’
‘I already told you, before you had me arrested. I was brought intel by a reliable source that SIS was involved in an illegal operation in DR Congo, and that John Brice was in charge with full knowledge and approval from both here and Whitehall, despite supposedly having resigned two years ago.’
‘And what about the ancient weapon found by Wilde and Chase in the jungle?’
Alderley eyed him suspiciously. ‘The Shamir? So you did know about that already. Who told you?’
‘Just answer the question.’
‘It was Brice, wasn’t it? You knew what he was doing all along! For God’s sake, sir! I’m the head of the Africa desk, but something this big was going on behind my back? How high does it go? Chase said that Brice claimed to have Section 7 immunity — which must mean that the Prime Minister signed it when he was Foreign Secretary. And I know he didn’t attend PMQs today. Did he authorise Brice to carry out this attack? Did you?’ Alderley’s voice rose as he became more accusatory.
C’s right hand slipped towards the open drawer. ‘Are you implying that Prime Minister and I were complicit in today’s terrorist attack?’
‘I–I think there needs to be an immediate and independent investigation, sir.’ Alderley tensed, realising that his superior’s bearing had changed, but pressed on. ‘Nina Wilde and Eddie Chase evaded SIS watchers — including a team placed on me, I might add — to bring me information about Brice, about the Shamir, everything that’s been going on in the Congo… and the next day, Parliament is attacked. I’m going to assume that whatever official story might have been drummed up, the damage was caused by something more than Semtex or a rocket launcher. Some kind of sonic weapon, maybe?’
C stared at him, his expression as unreadable as a reptile’s — then to Alderley’s shock raised the gun. ‘Your problem, Peter, is that you’ve practically gone native, wondering how we can help all these pisspot little African nations, when what you’re supposed to be doing is using them to help us! We’re on our own now, and we have to secure our position in the world. Brice’s mission in DR Congo was to do just that.’
‘By securing mineral rights?’ said Alderley incredulously, eyes fixed on the gun. ‘What about the thousands of people who’d die in a civil war that we instigated?’
‘They are not our concern,’ C stated coldly. ‘What is our concern as officers of SIS is the defence of the realm, and the protection of this agency. But any revelation of Brice’s role in the Mukobo operation threatens both those things.’
‘Then I’d say they’re already more than threatened! If the Americans have Nina and Chase, and the video of Brice’s confession, then they’ve got more than enough to join the dots and point back to you and the PM. And if it’s proved that the Shamir was used to do that,’ he pointed at the frozen image of destruction on the screen, ‘then… then that makes you the greatest traitors in this country’s history.’