The Action Pack Box Set, page 99
Alexei Severov stepped forward keenly, his eyes bright with the anticipation of inflicting pain. Megan kept her gaze fixed on Wilkins, her voice clear and steady as she spoke.
‘I really, truly would rather die than tell you.’
Sir Wilkins regarded Megan for a moment.
‘You will be ready to die within a few minutes, after Alexei here as finished with you. Last chance, Megan. Tell us now, please.’
Megan squeezed her thighs together to try to still the sickening fear swelling in her bowels. She looked away from Wilkins and studied a spot on the floor as though it were the most important thing in the universe.
Sir Wilkins silently stepped back and Alexei Severov moved forward, standing in front of Megan and smiling with pathological delight.
Megan saw the police commander take a full overarm swing and smash his clenched fist into her face, felt her nose break as white pain gripped her head. The commander stepped back.
‘Think on it, Megan,’ Sir Wilkins said. ‘One person cannot ever change the world. We will return shortly, and I do sincerely hope that by then you will have come to your senses.’
***
58
Martin Sigby, flanked by four secret–police soldiers, walked down a long corridor and was led out of Government House onto a large parade ground. Sigby saw the looming bulk of a Russian Mil Mi–24 helicopter dominating the area, a large troop transporter, and the dog–pens in the far corner. Ranks of hand–cuffed, hooded people were filing into the helicopter, prisoners of war for the exchange. He could see one of them lying on a stretcher being hefted aboard.
As they walked the helicopter’s engines began to whine into life, the huge drooping rotors turning lethargically in the cold air and scything through the snow flurries falling from the dull and featureless overcast above.
The four police troops manhandled Sigby aboard a nearby troop transporter, sliding the heavy side–door shut and blocking out the already deafening noise of the helicopter engines. Sigby sat himself on a hard seat as the vehicle drove out of the parade ground and past the edifice of Government House. He ignored the slab–faced guards watching him with sullen eyes and instead looked down as they passed through Pevestraka Square, filled still with people but also now with American military transports and sentries.
So close, Sigby thought to himself, looking at the Americans swarming into Thessalia. Sigby sat back in his seat and closed his eyes, finally resigned to the terrible fate that had been chosen for him. His cause was finally lost, and salvation had escaped him.
The transporter approached a US Marine check–point, and as the vehicle slowed one of the guards sitting opposite Sigby leaned forward with a stern expression.
‘Silence, Meester Seegby, no?’
The man demonstratively waved the serrated edge of a combat knife close to Martin Sigby’s throat as the vehicle came to a stop and the correspondent heard American voices outside.
Sigby sat in silence, watching and waiting, when suddenly the rear doors of the vehicle were yanked open and a dozen heavily armed United States Marines poked their M–16 rifles into the cabin. The secret–police guards all raised their hands, their own weapons forgotten along with their courage.
Sigby sat like a deer caught in the headlights of a speeding car until one of the marines pointed at him.
‘Martin Sigby?’
The correspondent nodded meekly.
‘You’re an important American military asset and you’re coming with us.’
Sigby unbelted himself from his seat, and was about to stand when the commanding officer of the secret–police escort stood and blocked his way.
‘We have our orders to escort this man to…,’
The marine officer raised his rifle at the Mordanian.
‘And I have my orders to bring him with me. If you and your men would like to step out of the vehicle, sir, we can all argue about it right here, right now.’
The Mordanian looked at the marines, at their angry expressions and elite weapons, and he ducked back inside the vehicle without another word as Sigby leapt out. The marine officer led him by the arm toward the waiting marine vehicles.
‘You need to stop that convoy!’ Sigby said urgently. ‘The government is holding people and if they find out I’ve left they’ll be executed!’
‘Don’t tell us,’ the marine officer replied. ‘Tell him!’
Sigby turned, to see Callum McGregor sitting in a seat and smiling above the pain in his wounded arm. Beside him sat Robert, Sigby’s cameraman. Sigby sat down next to Robert in disbelief before looking at the Scotsman.
‘What the hell is going on?’ he asked.
‘You have work to do and not much time to do it,’ Callum said.
‘Sophie D’Aoust, she is being held by Severov right now!’
‘Then only way to get her out is to do what I tell you.’
‘Severov is expecting me to report in his favour, on the threat of what he’ll do to Sophie should I choose not to!’
‘Then trust me and she’ll be safe.’
Martin Sigby closed his eyes and let out a long breath.
‘Fine, but afterward you have to send me to Talyn,’ Sigby said.
Callum stared at Sigby with a stunned expression. ‘What?’
‘There’s no time to explain,’ Sigby said earnestly. ‘I have to go to Talyn, no matter what, do you understand? I absolutely have to go.’
Callum regarded Sigby for a very long time before he nodded slowly. Then he grabbed Robert’s arm and pulled him close, so that he could talk to them above the clattering noise of the vehicle’s engine.
‘Now both of you listen to me, very carefully.’
*
‘Sir Wilkins.’
‘President Akim. What can I do for you, sir?’
The president glanced out of his window across the city.
‘What news of the advance?’ he asked.
‘General Rameron’s troops have extended their line from Talyn down towards Thessalia. We estimate that they will come within artillery range in less than an hour. The American build–up here continues, and I have it on good authority that a fleet of C–17 and C–130 aircraft with a further thousand troops will arrive at Khobal Airport within twenty minutes.’ He paused. ‘We are as prepared as we can be.’
President Akim looked out over the city.
‘The people are confused. They do not understand what is happening. They cannot be sure who is the enemy, nor who is their saviour. Or even if there is one.’ He turned to look at Sir Wilkins. ‘Nor can I.’
Wilkins frowned and chuckled lightly.
‘What ever do you mean, sir?’
President Akim smiled faintly.
‘I recently offered a large sum of money to Martin Sigby, in return for which I requested that he report favourably toward my cause, that he accord this office the highest respect in his reports. Although he accepted the offer, he later returned the money and refused to be bought in such a way.’
‘A noble stand,’ Wilkins noted guardedly.
‘But when my assistant logged the return of the monies to government accounts,’ Akim went on without missing a beat, ‘it gave her cause to recount the funds within. She noticed significant anomalies in the UN financial support moving through the accounts since your tenure began.’
‘Anomalies?’
‘Yes. You see Sir Wilkins, there was too much money passing through the coffers.’
‘Too much?’ Sir Wilkins laughed heartily. ‘Well then, surely that’s a good thing?’
‘It would be,’ Akim agreed, ‘were the excess monies not filtered through accounts other than those of the UN, and vanishing afterward. I asked my assistant to investigate, and learned that the monies were being paid by Kruger Petrochemicals in America, and that they were being filtered out again to an account in London.’
Sir Wilkin’s smile slipped slightly. ‘I don’t understand, sir.’
‘No,’ Mukhari Akim agreed, ‘nor do I. Tell me, Sir Wilkins, about your accounts in London. Do you think that these mysterious sums of money would match any found in your own?’
Sir Wilkins stood in rigid silence for a long moment before trembling with indignation.
‘Mister President, sir, any agreements I may have made in private with business associates are confidential and have no bearing either in this office or my own at the United Nations.’
The president did not speak, letting the silence draw out. Sir Wilkins flustered slightly, raising his hands palm outward as he spoke.
‘I don’t really know what it is that you’re trying to say. That I have pilfered money from the accounts here? I have not, sir.’
‘I did not accuse you of any such thing,’ the president said quietly. ‘Only that you are receiving more than one salary whilst you are here, and I would very much like to know why?’
Wilkins straightened his stance, raising his chin.
‘We will discuss this at another time, sir. Right now, I believe I am needed urgently elsewhere.’
Wilkins turned and strode for the chamber door. President Akim’s voice rumbled through the office behind him.
‘If I discover that you have abused your position, I shall petition Brussels to have you removed from your role and immediately investigated. I have had copies made of the evidence.’
Wilkins left the chamber and closed the door without looking back. He walked quickly to the end of the long corridor outside, to where Alexei Severov stood smoking a cigarette as he watched the attache approach.
‘He knows,’ Wilkins said.
‘Knows what?’
‘About the payments.’
Severov smiled thinly. ‘He knows about your payments, not mine.’
‘Oh, my dear Alexei,’ Wilkins chuckled, ‘I can assure you that if you abandon me, he shall know about yours too.’
Wilkins felt something sharp plunge into his testicles. He shot up onto the tips of his toes as tears welled in the corners of his eyes. He looked down to see a combat knife in Severov’s hand, the tip pressed against the most intimate part of his anatomy.
‘Then we have mutually assured destruction, Sir Wilkins,’ Severov whispered softly. ‘Although I can assure you that yours shall be significantly more painful than mine.’
‘We must work together,’ Wilkins said quickly in a high–pitched voice, ‘if we are to ensure our survival!’
‘Yes, indeed,’ Severov murmured. ‘Martin Sigby is preparing to deliver a report, knowing that failure to describe Mikhail Rameron in anything but a terrible light will see the French girl die a horrible death.’
‘Where is she?’ Wilkins gasped as Severov jabbed the knife a little harder.
‘In a very, very unsafe place,’ the Mordanian replied.
Severov removed the knife and Wilkins almost collapsed in relief. The commander slipped the blade back into its sheath and took a last draw on his cigarette before grinding it out on his calloused palm.
‘Meet me in my operations bunker, when Sigby’s report is due to be broadcast. We shall invite our friend Megan Mitchell to watch with us, before she dies. It will be entertaining to observe her downfall.’
‘What about the president?’ Wilkins gasped. ‘He cannot be allowed to remain in power, knowing what he does.’
Severov thought for a moment.
‘He must remain for the time being, but once the war is over and the elections called he will have to suffer an unfortunate accident I’m afraid, most probably at the hands of Chechen seperatist terrorists. As you would say, a terrible business.’
Severov, apparently pleased with his decision, turned and strode calmly away down the corridor, leaving Sir Wilkins standing alone holding his crotch with one hand and wiping tears from his eyes with the other.
*
GNN (UK) Ltd, London
‘The conference lines are connected, Mister Cain.’
Seth Cain sat in Harrison Forbes’s former office and smiled coldly as the diminutive British woman backed out of the office and closed the door. He turned to a plasma screen that had been set up in front of the world map on one wall, displaying feeds from GNN offices in New York, Chicago, San Diego and Miami. Each held the uncompromising features of the GNN Board of Directors, the men who controlled the strings of one of the largest television networks on the planet.
‘Good morning, gentlemen,’ Cain said to the four elderly faces staring back at him from the screen. ‘My apologies for calling you at this early hour.’
‘What news?’ one of the men asked. ‘Bad news would be good news for us, you understand.?’
‘Then I have terrible news,’ Cain grinned. ‘In a few moments you will witness the destruction of a terrorist movement in Mordania, the glorious victory of a democratic government supported by our very own troops, and all of it through the eyes of a GNN crew in Thessalia.’
There were a series of approving nods and murmurs.
‘Live, I take it?’ another of the greying heads hazarded.
‘Absolutely,’ Cain replied. ‘Every moment of it in glorious real–time. Every news network in the world will be begging for the right to broadcast this footage. The entire world is waiting to see what will happen in Thessalia. We, gentlemen, have the world’s attention.’
The oldest man on the plasma screen leaned forward, his penetrating gaze cast from thousands of miles away losing none of its potency through distance.
‘I trust, Seth, that neither they, nor us, will be disappointed.’
Again, the lupine grin.
‘Nobody will be left disappointed, I can guarantee you that.’
***
59
‘I hope to hell that you know what you’re doing?’
Lieutenant Cole watched as Callum McGregor patiently fiddled with a computer program in Martin Sigby’s room in the Thessalia Hilton.
‘Trust me,’ Callum said. ‘I was a very clever young man, once. Have you enough men to secure the building?’
‘Only the section that you require. The rest of government house is too well guarded.’
‘Fine, we will need only minutes for this.’
Callum made a last few adjustments as Martin Sigby and his cameraman appeared in the doorway.
‘It’s done?’ Callum asked.
‘Everything,’ Sigby said.
‘Good. Then we must go, immediately. There isn’t much time.’
Sigby was about to leave when his satellite phone warbled its ringtone. He picked it up and answered.
‘Martin! It’s Harrison Forbes!’
‘Harry? Listen, I’m sorry for the confusion and the…,’
‘Shut up man and listen. I’ve been fired and so I’m firing you.’
‘What? What are you talking about?! You can’t just…,’
‘I said shut up and listen, there’s very little time! You know a man named Frank Amonte, correct?’
‘Yes, I know of him – he was helping Mitchell in her investigation.’
‘He is in possession of documents that could change everything. I have been fired because I refused to bow down before Seth Cain and GNN corporate pressure. Listen to me Martin, whatever you broadcast they will block. They will prevent anything you say that affects their agenda from reaching the news channels. You have to do your work a different way!’
‘But we’re about to go live!’ Martin screeched frantically.
‘Then listen, do it freelance. Call anyone you like, offer them your footage, anyone but GNN do you understand?!’
Sigby stood dumbfounded for a moment.
‘You’re giving up the rights to the broadcasts, to the story?’
‘Exactly, all of them. This is more important than the rights, Martin, do you understand? Get that story out, sell it to whomever you please, just make sure it gets out and soon!’
Sigby nodded as he heard Forbes ring–off the other end.
Callum stood and was about to gather up the equipment and leave the room when Martin Sigby stopped him.
‘I have to go to Talyn,’ the correspondent reminded him. Callum made to pass Sigby, but the reporter stopped the big man with a hand on his chest. Callum stared at Sigby again, surprised at the force in the little man’s expression. ‘The moment this is done,’ Sigby pressed.
‘Why?’ Callum demanded.
‘Because..,’ Sigby swallowed and then straightened a little. ‘Because people are depending on me to do what I must.’
‘You’ll be shot on sight the moment you encounter the rebel lines. They’ll..,’
‘No they won’t. They know my face now, just like everyone else. They’ll take me to Rameron because that’s what he wants, and it’s what Severov wants to avoid. I want to show the other side of this conflict while there still is one. My broadcast won’t go out on GNN – look for it elsewhere, okay?’
Callum shook his head.
‘You people will die chasing your damned stories.’
Sigby smiled.
‘Like you and Megan nearly died chasing Amy O’Hara? Besides, the risk I take is worth it. I have much to make ammends for.’
Callum sighed heavily. To his surprise, he felt a profound sense of melancholy to see the stumpy man before him filled with such determination.
‘I liked you better when you were a selfish little sod.’
‘So did I: life was easier.’
Callum glanced across at Robert, who was standing silently behind holding Sigby’s camera. Sigby turned to him and shook his head.
‘Not this time Robert, it’s only my face that is safe amongst those people. Besides, the Great Highland Ape here will need your technical help with his crazy plan.’
Robert looked briefly at Callum, and then silently and obediently he slipped the camera straps from his shoulders and handed the heavy device to Sigby. Callum watched as the two men looked at each other for a long moment and then briefly embraced, and he wondered what dangers they might have shared in their time working together, just as Megan and he had done. Sigby turned to Callum and tapped his watch.
