present day.
It was now a fortnight since the events on the western slope of Pen-y-Fan.
Walking a half-mile up the road from the wrecked BMW, Alex had stolen a battered Fiesta from outside a hill walkers hostel, driven to north London an area with which he had no connection booked into a bed-and-breakfast hotel in Tottenham under a false name, and spent the days that followed allowing his wounds to heal and planning his next move. His single trip into Central London had been an underground journey to Oxford Circus to withdraw cash from a dispensing machine and he had been back in Tottenham within the hour. On the tube he had read the Daily Telegraph's elaborate account of the 'Civil Servant love tryst' that had 'ended in tragedy' in the shadow of the Black Mountains.
The shot that had creased Alex's back had been acutely painful for several days and would certainly leave a spectacular scar, but had not required any medical attention that he himself had been unable to administer with the help of Dettol and bandages. The knife cuts, with their stitches finally removed, were now no more than pale and occasionally uncomfortable reminders of the fight outside George Widdowes' house. On his thirteenth day at the bed and breakfast he had rung the offices of MIS.
As Alex entered number four reading room at the Carlton Club, he heard the clock in the library strike 11 a.m. Angela Fenwick rose from the desk facing the window, turned and extended her hand to him.
'Captain Temple,' she said, nodding dismissal to the elderly club servant hovering at the door.
'Right on time.'
Alex inclined his head, shook her hand in silence and seated himself in the proffered armchair, a tautly upholstered object of oak and azure leather. Fenwick herself resumed her place at the desk, angling her chair towards Alex. She looked older, thought Alex. Sharp lines had been incised at the corners of her mouth and her skin had a dry, desiccated quality that had not been apparent at their last meeting.
She steepled her fingers, a gesture that Alex remembered from his first briefing with her.
'Given that you have just killed two well-liked members of my Service, Captain Temple, I thought it advisable that we meet on neutral territory rather than at Thames House. I thought it might be more .
comfortable for you.'
Neutral territory, thought Alex, glancing around him. Like fuck.
'I have no regrets whatsoever about killing Dawn Harding and that other amateur trigger man of yours,' he said coldly, 'given that they were trying bloody hard to kill me.
Presumably on your direct orders. And you might as well know right now..
'Captain Temple..
'that I will do the same to any... 'Captain Temple! I have not come here to argue with you. I fully accept that circumstances led you to defend yourself. Reciprocally, I would ask you to accept that agents Harding and Muir acted as they did towards yourself in the belief that it was in the best interests of national security.'
'Trying to murder a serving SAS officer?'
'Put it how you like.' Fenwick's gaze was ice and her voice was steel.
'The point is that these events have happened and you and I must now discuss .. .
modalities.'
'Does that mean that you want to hammer out some kind of deal?'
'That's exactly what it means, Captain Temple, so let's get right on with it. Be assured that I am enjoying this meeting no more than you are. Firstly, do you wish to continue with your army career.
Alex shrugged.
'I want to be in the position to choose to, if that's what you mean.
'Very well. I give you my word that you will be left alone. No complaint will be made about your conduct. All that I require is that you never speak of the events surrounding Meehan and the Watchman operation. Not to your colleagues, not to Bill Leonard, not to anyone.
'And meanwhile you work out how to get rid of me,' said Alex with an ironic smile.
'What's it going to be, an accident on the firing range? A climbing fall?
Some mystery virus?'
'Captain Temple, I ..
'Because let me tell you, if anything happens to me -anything fatal, that is a package will be delivered to the offices of a certain national newspaper. That package will contain an MP5 machine-gun together with various expended cartridge cases all bearing fingerprints, an affidavit sworn before a solicitor by me and a recording of a conversation I had with Dawn Harding on the drive down to Black Down House, in which she discusses in some detail the trapping and killing of Joseph Meehan. It's not watertight, but it's enough to sink you.'
Fenwick pursed her lips but otherwise remained expressionless.
'I've got a copy of the tape here,' continued Alex, taking a Sony Walkman cassette player from his pocket. He pressed the play button.
'Negative thought leads to negative action .. . came Dawn s distinctive voice.
'Just promise me that ~f there's any chance of taking Meehan out..
$
To Alex's amazement he saw Fenwick's eyes sharpen with tears. She turned away from him instantly and pretended to examine her notes. When she looked up again, steely as ever, it was as if the moment had never been.
'Very well, captain. I take your point and I acknowledge that you have the wherewithal to do us serious damage. Let me respond by saying that if you ever discuss or disclose details of this matter preemptively without provocation from my Service then we will move to defend ourselves in the most.. . vigorous way. Certain accusations will surface deeply damaging accusations, both of a criminal and sexual nature. You will lose your pension, your credit rating and your reputation. Serious doubts will be cast upon your state of mind. We will do, in short, whatever is necessary to discredit and ultimately ruin you.
Alex nodded. He believed her.
'Mutually assured destruction,' he murmured.
'Quite so, Captain Temple. A highly effective deterrent in my experience. Do we have a deal?'
Alex met her unwavering gaze, saw in it an iron determination the equal of his own.
'We have a deal.'
They shook hands and there was a long silence. Fenwick stared down at the traffic.
'Are you in contact with Meehan?' she asked eventually. Alex shook his head.
'No.'
'Rest assured we will pursue him.'
'I'm sure.'
'And we will find him.'
The ghost of a smile touched Alex's features.
'If you say so.
Fenwick hesitated.
'Captain, would you like to know the real purpose of the Watchman operation?'
'Meehan worked that one out. He was a fall guy there to take the drop for some longer-established mole. If the shit ever hit the fan and your senior man was threatened, there had to be someone else who could be revealed as a British agent.
Meehan was that man.
Fenwick nodded.
'That's correct. And the longer he stayed in place, the more believable it would be that he was the only mole if he had to be exposed.'
Alex stood up, closed his eyes in frustrated disbelief and shook his head.
'But you sent..' how many is it now, must be at least a dozen soldiers and civilians to their deaths? To terrible deaths, mostly. And all for the sake of a single intelligence source? Do you honestly think that's a price worth paying?'
'Look, captain, given what we know about each other I think I can trust you with this. The point is that the man the Watchman was dummying for was not just a mole, he was the mole. The ultimate intelligence source. Have you heard of an agent code-named Steak Knife?'
