He handed the photo back, but Joanne Archer shook her head. ‘Keep it. I’ve got spares.’
Marshall fought to keep his voice level. He felt sick; the kind of sickness that makes a man wonder how he’d ever got into this vile business. ‘How did you. . get this?’
‘I took it on an Olympus digital camera.’ Her voice was in briefing mode, flat and unemotional. ‘I was less than thirty feet away — I could have drilled you both if I’d been working for the opposition. Where you were sitting was called Cafe Osman and it’s located in the western suburbs of Baghdad, in the Jihad district between the centre and Baghdad International Airport. The quickest way out there from the city centre is on Highway 10 and down Ishmail Street — unless you’re lucky and get to drop in by chopper. It’s a mainly Sunni area but there are Shi’a as well. Most of the time they get on, but earlier that day the Mehdi Army had made a strike in retaliation for some Shi’ite killings a few days before. The US marines were there in force to back up the Iraqi police, which is how you and Gordon Humphries got to enjoy coffee and a chat. Actually, you were only there for a few minutes because Humphries and I had a meeting not long after in a safe house nearby.’
‘I know, but-’ Marshall tried to stem the flow of words, to say something that, however useless, would show he wasn’t uncaring. But the young woman was not to be denied her debriefing. Especially, it seemed, this part of it.
‘A couple of days later, Humphries was dead.’ She waited while this sank in. When she saw Marshall wasn’t going to speak again, she continued. ‘He was dead and I was adrift. I’m only guessing, Major, but I believe that before he died, he got wind of something big happening and got me out of the compound by calling a briefing at the safe house.’
Marshall blinked, his throat dry. ‘Go on.’
‘Unfortunately, he never made it to the meet, so I bailed out, then found the compound had taken a hit. Suddenly, I had no principal, no handler and I was alone in hostile territory. Is that enough for you?’ Her eyes sparked with anger. ‘I can describe the training camp here in the UK and give you facials on each of the instructors if you like. The adjutant in particular was a sneaky bastard. He used to report anyone who made so much as a single complaint.’ She sat back and waited, the briefing over.
Marshall shook his head. ‘I don’t know what to say.’ He felt drained. It all rang too true to be a hoax, and this young woman had the distinct sound of the genuine article. Worse — she
‘I can only apologize,’ he said finally, ‘for everything that has happened to you, Miss Archer. You may accept that or dismiss it as you wish — I can’t say I blame you if you take the latter course. I wasn’t aware you’d survived the bombing. All our information led us to believe that you had died along with everyone else. And when you didn’t report in. .’ He shrugged and rubbed his face with a large hand. ‘I visited your flat once. Pointless, of course, but it seemed the right thing to do. Your landlord said you were away. It’s no excuse, I know, but we were forced to believe the worst. Gordon Humphries’ death didn’t help in that regard, I’m afraid. What do you want from me?’
‘Protection.’ This came from Harry, in the front seat. ‘And rehabilitation for Miss Archer. She’s been left high and dry by your lot for too long.’
‘Of course, that goes without saying. But protection from what?’
‘From whom, actually,’ the younger man, Rik, put in. ‘We’ve got a psychopath on our tail. We think he’s one of yours.’
‘I doubt that.’ Marshall’s instinct was for outright denial. God knows, he wasn’t privy to every backwater operation being conducted by his colleagues, nor the people they employed. Yet something about these three was turning all that he knew upside down. Why not this as well?
Harry pointed at the photo Marshall was holding, his finger on one of the two armed security men in the background. ‘This man has already killed at least three people — possibly four — and had a go at Joanne. We believe he’s got orders to take out Rafa’i. He missed this time, but we think he’ll be back for another try.’ He looked hard at Marshall. ‘Like I said — he’s one of yours. Well trained.’
‘I need more details,’ said Marshall. He was playing for time but it was all he could do. He listened while the two men gave him a concise briefing of everything that had happened so far. It stretched from Norfolk to the capital and nothing they said sounded too far-fetched — which worried him even more. He made notes on a small pad, then studied the photo again, although he really didn’t need to. When he’d first seen the face of the security guard, he had experienced an instant jolt of recognition. It wasn’t good news.
‘I remember this man,’ he told them at last. There was nothing to be gained by denying it. ‘But only because he was attached to my security detail.’
‘Go on,’ Harry prompted him.
‘He stood out. The other men treated him with obvious caution, and a fair bit of respect. It tends to make one take notice. So I checked his record. His name’s Gary Pellew. He’s former Special Forces and goes by the name of Dog. He did valuable work for us over many years in appalling circumstances. It did things to him.’ Marshall dropped the photo and shook his head. ‘Unfortunately, nobody noticed until it was too late.’
‘You mean he’s a head case,’ said Rik.
‘Damaged, certainly,’ Marshall agreed levelly. ‘Not that he would ever acknowledge such a description. He’s fiercely proud of the fact that he’s never failed to carry out an order. If anything, it’s something of a character flaw.’
‘You mean he’s a robot.’
‘I mean he won’t stop until he’s accomplished whatever job he’s on.’
‘Cheers, Major,’ said Rik dryly. ‘Just what we wanted to hear: a government-trained psychopath with a work ethic. Can’t you get him stopped?’
‘I doubt it. He no longer works for us. Not long after this picture was taken, he dropped out of sight. His colleagues said he’d been behaving irrationally — he allegedly tried to kill one of the other guards. He’d also taken to slipping out and doing some freelance night-sniping of insurgents.’ He gave a thin smile. ‘They may have been troublesome, but that definitely wasn’t part of his brief.’
‘He wasn’t all bad, then?’ Joanne’s voice was laden with sarcasm.
‘Sadly, he had a problem differentiating between insurgents and civilians. It’s believed he shot dead at least five innocent locals over a period of several nights. Before they could stop him, he’d gone.’ He looked at them each in turn. ‘It’s believed he may have been headhunted by Jennings as long as a year ago. Now we know why.’ He let a few moments go by, then added. ‘Where is Rafa’i?’
‘Safe,’ said Harry. ‘For the time being.’
‘Let’s hope he stays that way. He’s an important man. It would be useful if nothing happened to him while he’s on British soil. I take it there’s no chance of bringing him in for a chat?’ He looked at Joanne Archer; she was clearly the one who knew the Iraqi best.
‘You’re right,’ she replied shortly. ‘No chance.’
‘I see. And what do you plan doing with him?’
‘Get him out of harm’s way,’ she replied. ‘Back to Iraq if that’s what he wants.’
Marshall’s tried to keep a blank face. ‘Ah.’
‘Is that a problem?’ Harry queried.
Marshall had already said too much. It was time to back off and get the machinery working on clearing up this whole sorry mess, starting with the psychopathic Dog. He could leave these three to take care of Rafa’i — for the time being, at least.
‘No. No problem. I wish you luck — it won’t be easy.’ He extracted a card from the back of the notebook and scribbled a number on it. ‘That’s a direct number if you need to reach me. My deputy is Richard Ballatyne. I’ll brief him as soon as I can and we’ll be in touch on your mobile later today.’ He looked at Joanne. ‘I really am sorry, Miss Archer. I wish there was more I could do to rectify things.’
Rik leaned across him and opened his door. It was Marshall’s cue to leave.
FORTY-SEVEN
