“Yes, I said I saw the report.”
“And when they knew we were digging too deep, they got rid of the suspects. If that wasn’t bad enough, they’ve let them loose to hunt down the undercover officer that shut them down in the first place. These people are out of control…Ma’am.”
Bailey’s eyes narrowed. “You’re treading on very dangerous territory here detective. The Commissioner is satisfied we’ve been seen to do as much as we can on this. Nobody has lost face here. The press is being briefed on it as we speak.”
“And what about Katusev? What about Vitsin?”
“Katusev is Kent’s problem and Vitsin is none of our business. The Commissioner is concerned about the reputation of this police force, not running around pretending to be George Smiley. We’ll leave that to Vauxhall Bridge.” Morton felt the vein in the side of his head start to pulse and struggled to contain his temper.
“I know it’s not what you wanted to hear,” said Bailey. “But the Commissioner has to make decisions that benefit the whole force, not just individual officers.”
“Individual officers like Matt Harper you mean?”
“I shouldn’t have to remind you DCI Morton that we all went out on a limb over Harper’s deployment. He does not officially exist to this force.”
“Yes Ma’am.”
“Yes Ma’am. Good answer. Remind me to decline next time you offer to speak frankly.”
Bailey finished her coffee and left the room. The reporters had dispersed when Morton made his way back outside. He walked into the pub opposite the Yard and found Cohen sitting at a corner table.
“Fucking cowards are shutting us down,” said Morton.
“Shutting us down?” said Cohen. “But, how? Why?”
“The Commissioner’s playing politics. No one expects him to find a murderer that’s fled to Russia, so he’s lost his appetite for a result. It’s finished.”
“And what about Harper? They can’t just forget about him with that psychopath waging his vendetta.”
“I don’t get the impression they’re too concerned. But don’t underestimate Harper. Did you read his training history?”
“Not that I can remember.”
“He spent time at Hereford. He’s done more special forces training than any other UC in the country. If they want to take him out, they might get more than they bargained for.”
“Let’s hope you’re right.”
“I know I’m right.
- Chapter 26 -
Little Mishka
The sound of Ashansky’s voice reverberated around Harper’s head. There were more people now, but now there was only one voice he could hear. It boomed out from the lobby behind him, deep and guttural.
“Hey Misha,” Ashansky shouted in Russian. Misha. Harper had blocked the name Misha Kapralov from his mind since the operation. There were things Misha had done that Harper knew he would have to answer for some day. Things he didn’t want to think about.
“Little Mishka,” said Ashansky. “Why do you not come out and say hello to your friends? We’ve missed you.”
A black shape came crashing over the counter and smashed into the back wall, landing just feet away from Harper. Walker’s body hit the floor and his dead eyes looked in Harper’s direction. The first of Ashansky’s team vaulted over the counter after the body and Harper made a dash for the open door. He emerged into the open for a second and bullets whizzed over his head from several directions. Shouting erupted behind him and another bullet whistled over his head. He found himself in a concrete corridor and darted for a nearby fire exit. The winter sun shone on his face as he broke out into the fresh air and crashed forward into some nearby bushes. He emerged out of the other side with pieces of razor wire wrapped around his arm and stomach. He ripped them away from his body, the blades cutting into his hands as he pulled at the metal. There was a river with concrete banks in front of him. He heard Ashansky’s men hacking at the bushes behind him and briefly considered diving into the icy water. He set off down a footpath. When he looked back, three men came through the bushes and started wrestling with the razor wire.
Ashanky’s voice chased him as he ran. “Miissshhaaa!” Harper pumped his legs as fast as he could. Another bullet skimmed off the bank and hit the water. He reached a small bridge and ran across it, emerging onto piece of flat waste ground. The smell of raw sewage crept out of some nearby pipes. He stood for a few seconds, assessing his options. The only cover he could see was too far in the distance. His pursuers would have a clear shot at him if he tried to make it. He jogged over to the sewage pipe. The smell got more pungent as he approached it. The pipe sloped downhill in line with the gradient of the city. There was no way to know where it came out. It was large enough for him to climb inside, but a sharp feeling of claustrophobia urged him to stay in the open air.
“Miiisha!” Harper turned around. Ashansky had crossed the bridge and was standing on the other side of the waste ground. He had shaved his head and wore mirrored sunglasses. The time in prison has slimmed his face, but taken away none of his menace. Next to him stood Yuri Gershov. His face projected pure hate in Harper’s direction. They all raised their guns as Harper took a few steps away from the pipe.
“I don’t want to kill you here Misha,” said Ashansky. “I’d prefer if we could just talk, but you are making this very difficult.”
He put his hands up as if to surrender before throwing himself into the pipe. He clawed at the ridges in the metal to pull himself further inside and get some traction. More shots echoed past him. He let out a grunt as he felt a sharp stab in his back. He realised it was a bullet as liquid started to flow from the wound. Darkness descended as he glided along in the dark tube. The circle of light leading out onto the waste ground got smaller as he picked up speed. It gradually turned into a white dot and then disappeared. He kept his eyes open as long as he could before he felt himself passing out.
Alpha walked out of his office onto the main floor of his new department. He surveyed the plush new surroundings through the corner of his eye as he stood by the water cooler. The higher floor gave his people a better view. This should have happened years ago, he thought. This was his due. His secretary waved at him as he walked back into the office. “Mr Varndon on the line for you Sir.”
“I’ll take it now,” replied Alpha.
He sat down and picked up his phone. “Are you on a secure line?”
“It’s secure,” said Varndon.
“Good. Where are we?”
“I delivered Harper to Ashansky. We won’t be hearing from him again.”
“And Walker?”
“I took care of him myself.”
“Good. He couldn’t be trusted on this. It needed to be done.”
“We should never have recruited him in the first place. People like that are not cut from the right sort of cloth.”
“Well we won’t have to make that mistake again. We’ve got the money to do things properly now.”
“I got some more info on Vitsin.”
“Go on.”
“The CIA caught him coming in by train, but they didn’t spot him heading out the day after. I checked and it looks like he went by rail all the way to Hong Kong.”
“Hong Kong? Why there?”
“I don’t know, but I’m planning to find out.”
“Keep that to yourself Will. Get to Hong Kong and let Langley waste their time in Almaty. And take Ashansky and his people with you. He’s keen to make up for the mess Gershov made with Cavendish.”
“What about the Met? Are we sure they’re out of the picture?