‘Nathan, I had to go to Saunders. He had the contacts, and access to the records. They’ve kept track of you. He got me Bush too.’
‘So why didn’t you come to me directly?’
‘I thought you might think of it as charity. You know, after the way SCU10 was treated when the programme was ended.’
‘There was no need to worry about that, sir. I would never have thought that, and I’ve never blamed you. Anyway, that’s ancient history now. But I thought I’d better warn you. Someone’s coming for you.’
‘What are you talking about?’
A confused voice at the other end of the line.
‘MI5? Military Police? Who knows? Could be a bloke dressed as a phone engineer for all I know. But someone’s coming, trust me on that.
He hung up and smiled, enjoying the mind games.
‘Come.’
Jamie Jenkins entered the office of the brigadier. Two assault rifle wielding Military Policemen flanking him.
‘Wh… What’s the meaning of this Jenkins?’
Saunders looked in turn at the military policemen, both of whom he knew. ‘Saltmarsh, Markwick.’ He nodded at both of them in turn and received a ‘Sir.’
‘Sir, I’m terribly sorry sir, and this is extremely awkward, but I’ve just had word from Five that you may be involved in the London bombings’.
‘Poppycock!’ Replied Saunders. Anger instantly visible on his face. Jenkins noticed a bead of sweat form on the brigadier’s brow.
‘I’ve never heard anything so preposterous in my life.’
Jenkins was looking slightly nervous.
‘Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to come with us. We need to ask you some questions regarding Nathan Raynor and Andrew Bush.’
The brigadier shuddered at the mention of the names, but he stood his ground.
‘And on whose authority are you making this request Lance Corporal?’
He emphasised the last two words as he puffed out his chest and stood ramrod straight. Emphasising his own authority.
‘Um. The Secretary of Defence sir.’ replied Jenkins.
‘Pfft. Now there’s a snollygoster if ever I’ve known one.’
He turned to his window, picked up his plant food sprayer and tended to his orchids.
‘Sir, would you come with us please?’ Jenkins asked.
Saunders ignored the request. Instead, he sprayed his plants, humming to himself. Land of Hope and Glory.
‘Sir, I must insist…’
‘Oh you insist do you?’ Saunders spun around to face his subordinate. Spray bottle poised like a pistol.
‘You insist. So tell me Jenkins. Lance Corporal Jenkins.’ His vitriolic tone was putting Jenkins on edge.
‘What exactly have you ever done for this country? How have you made Britain Great?’
Jenkins shuffled anxiously. He really didn’t want to be doing this. The legendary Saunders rage that he’d heard so many rumours allude to over the years was about to be unleashed. He could sense it. Markwick and Saltmarsh could sense it too, index fingers slipping into the trigger guard, the tiniest amount of pressure being applied. Arm muscles tensing, ready to lift. The brigadier continued. A vein on his forehead started to pulse. Sweat was building on his brow.
‘Hmmm? Come on Jenkins, I’m waiting. What’s wrong? Cat your tongue? Waiting for an order? No? Well I’ll tell you what you’ve done.’
‘Sir, please.’ Jenkins implored. The brigadier continued as if the other men weren’t even there. Like rehearsing for a performance.
‘Nothing, Jenkins. That’s precisely what you’ve done for this country. Nothing. I’ve served. I’ve been to war. I’ve been thrown into situations that you’d be unable to comprehend. Alongside gallant men who have given their lives so that this nation can remain great.’
‘If you could just come with us please, Brigadier.’
Jenkins tried again. He was certain the brigadier was about to blow like Vesuvius. He didn’t. He let out a sigh, sat down and put his face in his hands, elbows resting on his desk.
The MP’s relaxed a little. So did Jenkins, who then started to move toward the desk. Suddenly the brigadier sat upright. He looked feral, like a mad dog, ready to strike. Jenkins jumped and took a step back.
‘Look at this country now, Jenkins. Borders constantly being attacked. Foreigners everywhere you turn. Militants, fanatics, religious zealots.’
He stopped. Thinking. Jenkins took the opportunity to try and intervene. To calm him.
‘But that’s what makes this country Great, sir. That’s what you’ve contributed to. Britain is great because she is tolerant. Inclusive. Understanding.’
Jenkins sat in the chair across the desk from the brigadier. The fight was draining from the old war horse. Jenkins tried to take advantage once more.
‘Just come with us now sir.’ He pleaded.
Saunders appeared not to have heard him, his confession kept pouring from his mouth like water from a broken tap.
‘So, yes, I know of these men, Bush and Raynor. Fine men indeed. Would do anything for this country. And then this country showed it had no time for them when they were of no more use.’
‘I understand sir.’ Said Jenkins, ‘but you’re not involved with them now, are you?’
The brigadier smiled the tiniest of smiles. Barely a twitch at the corner of his mouth.
‘I got them the work, Jenkins. I got them the work. They never knew it was me, obviously, but I knew how to get hold of them. They’d been operating as mercenaries for years. I’d actually used them before without their knowledge.
‘Raynor, showed so much promise. Intelligent beyond compare. Just not too stable. Then Bush. A master of stealth. Could creep up on a fly and never be seen coming. The best assassin in the world.
‘Sir, I think you should be telling this to the investigating officer.’
But the brigadier ignored Jenkins, continuing unabated.
‘When Bill called, wanting a mercenary, I instantly recommended Raynor. Bill knew him, of course, from his SAS recruiter days. Bill told me about an arms company that wanted to stir things up a bit. Said it would be in the country’s interest.’
He stopped. Looked at Jenkins, a look of remorse painted onto his face.
‘When Bill said it was to assist rearming this country I jumped at the chance. I had no idea the target would be London.
‘You see, Jenkins, the military has suffered greatly since the end of the Cold War. Defence Spending cuts. Year after year. We’d be lucky to defend ourselves against a boatload of Lemurs. What if Russia decides it’s time for the Great Bear to rise once more?’
Jenkins just shrugged, thinking it best to let the man continue. Let him run out of steam, and then take him in for questioning.
‘We wouldn’t stand a chance, Jenkins. Not a chance. Us or the rest of Europe. It wouldn’t just be migrants trying to get through the tunnel. It would be the whole of the bloody continent. God knows, the Russians do enough sabre rattling; it’s only a matter of time before the wall goes back up.
‘Then there’s China. All they have to do is call in their debt. That’s America ruined.’
He signed. Pondering where his ramblings would lead.
‘Once the first bomb had gone off, I knew I was into something bad. I was trying to control Raynor on the ground, but then Bill’s employer, I don’t know who that is, by the way. Well, he tried to pull out of the deal. That simply pissed-off Raynor.’
Markwick and Saltmarsh were getting a bit agitated, but remained where they stood. If anything, they could be called upon as witnesses if Saunders changed his story.
Jenkins tried to keep a neutral expression on his face, but he was shocked. This man, whom he greatly respected, was partly responsible for one of the worst acts of terrorism to be carried out on these shores. But his intrigue now got the better of him.