Upex and Barford nodded in agreement.
‘Good thinking.’ Said Barford.
‘Hello Sam, good to hear from you.’ Said Jenkins.
‘Hi Jamie, wish I was calling under better circumstances. I’ll be straight up with you mate, I need some help.’
Sam was using Virani’s office to make the call. Virani was still updating Bray on the events thus far, Bray himself eager to get some good news up the chain of command. Maybe even give a press conference to reassure the public. Unfortunately, most of the news was bad. Especially where Sam was concerned.
Sam was casually leaning back in Virani’s huge leather office chair, he propped one foot on his other knee and tapped a pen on the desk with his free hand.
‘Always pleased to help, Sam. I’m guessing it’s to do with the bombings? Have you got a lead?’
Sam spent a few minutes briefing Jenkins on the identification of Raynor and the discovery of SCU8.
‘Bloody hell Sam.’ Was Jenkins’ first reaction. ‘A covert, cold war, unit.’ A pause. Jenkins was trying to process this information. He continued.
‘There were probably plenty of those, mate. Cold war saw all sorts of covert and clandestine activity across the globe. But I’ll go and see the brigadier, he would have been in active service during some of that time, so he might know something about it. If not, his clearance will be much higher than mine, we’ll see what we can find.’
‘Thanks JJ.’ Said Sam.
‘No problem. We’ll have to go for a pint, once this has all blown over.’
‘Now that sounds like a good idea. Thanks again Jamie.’
‘Don’t mention it, mate. Good luck.’
Sam ended the call and replaced the receiver as Virani walked in.
‘Comfortable?’ she enquired.
Sam, having not seen Virani enter, jumped out of her chair and stood next to her desk.
‘It’s okay, it doesn’t bother me.’ She said. ‘Anyone can use this office when they like, if I’m not in it.’
She sat in her chair and placed her hands on the desk, fingertips together in a steeple. Sam took a seat on the opposite side of the desk and waited. Her body language told him she had something to ask.
‘How are you getting on Samuel, anything to tell me?’
Sam spent five minutes updating Virani on the discoveries of the day.
‘Good work Sam. I think you should pop along to Tidworth tomorrow, have a word with Saunders. Put a bit of pressure on him. It’s harder to squirm out of answering questions if your interrogator is stood in front of you.’
Sam nodded in agreement.
‘Well that’s it from me Sam, you’re doing well. I know it’s easy for me to say, but try not to worry too much about the burn notice.’
‘You’re right, Jay. It is easy for you to say.’
‘Call it a day for today. Go to Tidworth tomorrow. I’ve got a feeling we’re getting close.’
Chapter Twenty-One
‘I’m afraid my company is going to have to cancel its subscription.’
Raynor sat bolt-upright at that comment. He’d been relaxing in his bedsit, pondering his next target, feeling quite pleased with himself for his ingenuity thus far. The security services were baffled. They had no idea why these bombings were happening. More importantly, they had no idea who was behind them. When his phone rang, he was expecting congratulations, not this. He calmed himself before replying.
‘I’m sorry sir, I’m unable to cancel the subscription. When your company signed up it agreed to receive between one and ten issues, the number to be decided by us, but a maximum of ten issues. You’ve only received two of those issues so far, but you’ve been selected for all ten.’
‘I don’t think you understand, issue one wasn’t what my company was expecting. It caused a great deal of pain within my organisation. One of the items in the issue was about somebody known, and very close to us, so you’ll understand my reluctance to proceed.’
‘With respect, sir, I don’t think you understand the situation. Your organisation has subscribed to a service which will deliver up-to ten issues. It has been selected for all ten issues, and will pay for each issue as agreed in the terms of service within the contract.’
A pause, followed by a sigh at the other end of the connection.
‘Now listen up you little scrote. You have no idea who you’re dealing with here. My client has expressed a wish to terminate his subscription. I suggest you do as he’s asked. We know all about you. Your past. That’s why we chose you for the job. So don’t bite the hand that feeds, because it might wrap its fingers around your scrawny little neck and squeeze the life out of you.’
Raynor was starting to get agitated.
‘I’m sorry sir, but I’m not sure I understand what you’re trying to say. And I find your tone rather offensive. According to company policy, I’m afraid I’m going to have to end this call, but before doing so I need to inform you that you are currently still subscribed to our offer, and payment will be expected as usual. Failure to pay will result in action against your company. Goodbye.’
‘Don’t you fucking hang…’
Raynor ended the call.
‘Fuck!’ he shouted. Every muscle starting to tense up in anger. The veins in his temple pulsating. He took a deep breath.
Think Nate, think. Relax. Don’t let it get to you. He knows about my past. ‘That’s why we chose you.’ That’s what he said. His client’s a bloke, ‘I suggest you do as he’s asked’. I need to find out who this fucker is. Teach him a lesson.
Raynor paced, thinking of who may know of his past. There were very few. His Brothers in Arms, but they were just that, brothers, the bond between them would never be broken. Not one of them would ever give him up, and he wouldn’t give up anyone he’d ever fought alongside.
Then there’s the Ministry of Defence, but only a select few, and they’d probably be retired. That just left the politicians who set up his unit, long before he was in the army. But why would politicians, even ex-politicians or members of the military sanction attacks on home soil? No, he was missing something. A link between the MOD, government and another faction. The paymaster. Somebody knew somebody, who knew about him. But who would give up his past? It would be too risky. The things he’d done, the places he’d been. To keep the peace, or sometimes keep conflict raging, by any clandestine means possible. For his country. What am I missing?
He replayed the telephone conversation in his head. He could tell the man was fairly well-spoken, even through the voice distortion device that was being used.
‘One of the items in the issue was about somebody known to and very close to us.’ What did that mean?
I'm sure I put the alarm on before I left the house this morning.
Sam gently closed the front door. He took off his suit jacket and hung it on one of the hooks on the wall in the hallway. He headed down the hall to his kitchen, took a glass from the kitchen cabinet and filled it with water.
He was trying to act cool, but all his senses were on high alert. He looked in the fridge for something to eat.
Good old Jules, always looking after me. A microwavable meal of monosodium glutamate. Shit in a tray. But they taste so good. The bad stuff always does.
He removed the cardboard sleeve and read the cooking instructions before grabbing a knife and putting several holes in the cellophane lid, shrieking like the violins in the famous shower scene from Hitchcock’s Psycho. His spirits were high, all things considered.