‘But whenever you move your fucking chess pieces around, real people get killed. And it’s the poor buggers in the forces who take the brunt of it. Let me guess: if eastern Congo became independent, the army and SAS would be sent here to “help” Monardril take over from the mining companies who were already there?’
‘The armed forces exist to secure and maintain British interests by force, whether the threat thereof or actual. That’s their sole purpose.’
‘Bollocks!’ Eddie protested. ‘I didn’t join the army or the SAS to fight for some rich bastard’s business plan. Or to start coups that’ll leave a lot of innocent people dead. I did it to serve my country and make a difference to the world.’
To his anger, his heartfelt assertion produced only a mocking smirk from Brice. ‘If you really believe that the SAS and our other special forces are there to preserve world peace and protect the innocent, you’re even more naive and stupid than I thought. You know, you were actually lucky to join the SAS when you did, just as there was a genuine war against a clear enemy.’
Eddie snorted. ‘Yeah, I felt really lucky while I was being shot at by the Taliban and al-Qaeda.’
‘I mean that you had the fortuitous timing to be able to take the moral high ground and be a soldier with a good cause: a rescuer, a hero,’ the MI6 officer went on. ‘Rather than being an enforcer, muscle for Britain’s friendly despots and warlords. A few years earlier, and you would have been in the islands of the Far East burning farmers’ villages and shooting their livestock to clear their land for rubber plantations, or executing dissidents who challenged the authority of our allies.’
‘That’s bullshit. That’s not what we do.’
‘You do what you’re told to do! Your purpose was to kill whoever we pointed you at, Chase. Nothing more, nothing less. SIS determines the targets, and you eliminate them. It doesn’t matter if they’re ISIS or the IRA, or civilians in some backwater country most people back home couldn’t even find on a map. If we decide their deaths serve British interests, then you make them dead.’ Another dismissive laugh. ‘Don’t give me any airy-fairy nonsense about making the world a better place.’
‘So it’s “My country, right or wrong?”’ Eddie said, appalled. ‘Wrong is wrong, whichever fucking side it is!’
‘You serve your country by putting it first, above everything else,’ Brice replied. ‘Your own opinions, your own morals, even your own family — and your own life.’
Nina regarded him contemptuously. ‘Sorry, but you don’t seem the kind to sacrifice your own life for your country. Everyone else’s lives, maybe—’
‘You don’t know what I’ve sacrificed for my country, Dr Wilde,’ Brice cut in, again with a flash of anger. ‘But you, Chase — I said once that your country had given you everything, and you repaid her by walking away. Well, now it’s time to settle your debts. Your turning Mukobo into Swiss cheese affects things, but I didn’t intend to let him stay around after independence anyway.’
‘You were going to kill him?’ Eddie asked.
‘He was far too unstable to allow to run a country, even by the standards of some of the despots we’ve supported in the past. Fabrice Kabanda is much more… civilised. And easier to control. Which brings me back to my offer, or at least an amended version.’ He straightened his clothing as if about to make a sales presentation. ‘With Mukobo dead, the chances of the secessionists winning have decreased considerably. Kabanda just doesn’t have the necessary capacity for violence. But that would redress the balance in their favour.’ He indicated the box containing the Shamir.
Nina was not impressed. ‘You want to give it to those lunatics outside?’
‘Since you murdered their leader, the only way you and your friends will get past the Insekt Posse alive is under my protection. The Shamir for your lives seems like quite a good deal.’
‘At the cost of a lot more lives.’
‘Obviously they wouldn’t get to keep it. A weapon that powerful needs to be held by the right hands.’
She cocked her head. ‘By which you mean yours.’
‘It would absolutely be in Britain’s best interests to control it, so yes. And you’re going to help me do so, Chase. You took the oath of allegiance when you joined the army, and I don’t believe that a man like you would let it slide after you left.’
Eddie frowned at him. ‘What’s my oath got to do with this?’
‘The last clause, specifically. Your promise to “obey all orders of Her Majesty, her heirs and successors and of the generals and officers set over me.” As a senior officer of the Secret Intelligence Service on an operation fully authorised by Her Majesty’s Government, I am such an officer. Whether you dislike me personally or consider what I’m doing repugnant is irrelevant. My mission has been deemed vital to the national interest — so you will help me accomplish it. That’s an order, Chase.’
Eddie was still and silent for a moment… then brought up his free hand in a mocking salute. ‘Yes sir, sir, lickety-split, sir!’ he said with exaggerated enthusiasm, before snorting. ‘Fuck off, Brice. I’m not a soldier any more.’
‘Nor was your friend Colonel McCrimmon after he retired from the SAS. But he still served his country by working for us — and obeying our orders.’
The mention of Mac served only to anger Eddie still further. ‘Mac would never have followed orders to do what you’re doing here. And you’re not a real officer, whatever MI6 calls you. I’m not going to help you start a war.’
The spy narrowed his eyes. ‘Then you’re a traitor,’ he said, the words oozing venom. ‘An enemy of the state. And I can assure you that if by some miracle you get out of this place alive, you’ll be treated as such. You’ll never see your daughter again.’
Eddie snapped up the gun, his face turning to stone. ‘Last time someone threatened my little girl, I killed him.’
‘I’m not threatening her. I’m making a promise to you. Obviously I’ll deny everything I’ve told you both, but I still have no intention of letting you spread any rumours about SIS’s involvement in DR Congo. The Removal Men will be called in — and their targets will be you. I doubt you’d even make it past the border.’
The Yorkshireman’s expression remained cold… then, to both Nina’s and Brice’s surprise, he smiled. ‘Funny thing about rumours. They stop being rumours if they become fact.’
‘Meaning what?’ the agent asked suspiciously.
‘Meaning… smile! You’re on Candid Camera.’ Eddie tipped his head towards one of the windows.
Brice and Nina turned to look. Nothing was visible in the darkness — until a small red light flashed. Brice stiffened as he realised what it was. ‘You little shit,’ he muttered.
‘While you were droning on,’ Eddie continued, his grin widening, ‘we were just drone-ing. I thought it’d be a good idea to get whatever dodgy crap you had to say on tape, and I was right.’
The other man whirled back to him. ‘You’re bluffing. That thing won’t have a microphone.’
‘Howie? If you can hear me, come a bit closer and give us a dance.’
A pale shape took on form outside as it approached the spill of illumination from the lanterns. Rotors whispering, the quadcopter stopped outside the chamber, wagging from side to side before retreating again. ‘Modern technology,’ said Eddie. ‘Innit great? Everything you said’s been recorded on a laptop. Soon as we get somewhere with an internet connection, boop — it’ll be in the inbox of every news service in the world. It’s not the first time I’ve done something like this.’