Traitor - By Duncan Falconer Page 0,123

drawn. Seated around them were the bar’s only customers. Stratton recognised all four of the men.

Rowena moved to his side. ‘You see a lion’s den, you just walk right into it.’

Sumners was the first to see Stratton, his weasel-like, self-preserving and unsmiling eyes staring at him. The others caught on to their colleague’s distraction. Nevins, Jackson and Jervis all looked round to see who it was. Jackson appeared to be the only one surprised to see the two of them.

‘Ah. The adventurers return,’ Jervis said. ‘Come on in and join us. ’Ave a glass of claret. I think you’ve earned one.’ Jervis always lost control of his fake posh accent after a few drinks, his true South London mongrel quality shining through.

Stratton stood in front of the group.

Rowena eyed Nevins as he pulled on a cigarette. ‘Do you mind if I have of those? Russian cigarettes give me heartburn.’

‘Help yourself, my dear,’ Nevins said, offering her a packet as well as his lighter. ‘We’ve classified the bar as a private room for the evening.’

She lit one up and sat down at the next table.

‘I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon,’ Jervis said. ‘You must’ve just stepped off the plane.’ Jervis noted Stratton’s dark expression and the way he looked at him. ‘Something on your mind, old boy?’

Stratton wasn’t sure where to start, despite having thought it through while in the taxi. ‘A couple of things.’

‘Why don’t I tell you what they are, and you tell me if I’m right?’ Jervis offered.

Stratton was always wary of Jervis. He was one of those completely unapproachable individuals, habitually deceptive and secluded. It was the strategy of his rank and position but also embedded in his character. Stratton could not imagine him having a single close friend and wondered if he had a wife and children. There was no evidence to suggest that he could possibly get close to anyone. And Stratton could not see Jervis sharing a single idea with anyone unless he expected to get something in return.

Stratton nodded.

‘Why did I let Jason and his mob continue to the platform when I could have ordered the helicopter to land? That’s one, isn’t it?’

Stratton nodded again.

‘And why did I let ’im go to Russia with you when he was as bent as Binning?’

‘You knew?’ Stratton asked, unsure whether to believe him or not.

‘Not exactly,’ Jervis admitted. ‘That’s why we ’ad to flush ’im. To tell you the truth, I quite liked the idea of MI16 having an operational licence. You thick bastards are all right when it comes to breakin’ down walls with your ’eads. But those boys ’ad brains as well as muscle . . . Problem is, they also ’ad too much ambition.’

‘You risked the decoder.’

‘Everything we do’s a risk, laddie. You should know that much by now. It’s all about values and exchanges. The tile was not the complete item and I was confident we’d get Binning. It had to be the real thing or they would’ve rumbled the game. That’s where Jackson came in.’

Jackson forced a smile and gave Stratton a respectful nod.

‘He thought you’d rumbled ’im when you sussed him in the sub.’ Jervis paused to take a sip of wine. ‘Jackson did a little number on the device. It worked normally but it was obvious they’d want to strip it down and duplicate it so he put a clever little anti-tampering thingummy in it. When they put it back together it wouldn’t work. But you took care of all that, anyway. The tile is in the mine and no one’s going back into that place for a bloody millennium. They’ve sealed off the whole complex with a million tons of concrete . . . Does that about cover it?’

Stratton looked at the faces staring back at him: Nevins with a thin smile, Jackson apologetic, Sumners uninterested and Jervis like the cat that got the cream. ‘I suppose it does.’

Jervis moved his gaze to Rowena. ‘What are we going to do about you, young lady?’

Rowena took a long draw on the cigarette. She’d been wondering the same thing. By agreeing to go on the platform operation she had displayed a level of disloyalty to London. She expected to get kicked out and although she tried to be philosophical about it, looking forward to doing something new, deep down she was disappointed by the thought. She had never been completely comfortable working in MI16 but had never fully identified why. But then, she had never been comfortable anywhere. She suspected that was because she had always been under others. Perhaps the only answer was to find something she could do by herself. The question was what.

‘You fancy ’eading up Sixteen until I can find someone more intelligent?’

Rowena was quite taken aback by the offer but tried not to let it show. A feeling of relief flooded through her, quickly overtaken by an excitement and boost to her confidence. ‘Sure,’ she said, poker-faced.

‘Good. Stick around. We need to talk.You’ve got a bit of clearin’ up to do first.’ Jervis looked up at Stratton. ‘Well, if you’re not going to ’ave a glass, Stratton, sod off back to Poole and write your post-op report.’

Stratton was satisfied with Jervis’s explanation. And the last thing he wanted to do was have a beverage with that lot. He nodded a farewell and headed for the door.

As he stepped outside the hotel into the chilly air Rowena walked out behind him.

‘Stratton.’

He stopped to look back at her.

She took a final drag on her cigarette and dropped it to the ground as she approached him. All hostility and coldness had gone from her face. ‘I want to say thanks.’

‘We never thank each other afterwards. We all owe the same.’

She smiled softly and nodded her understanding. ‘You bothered Jason. Even before he met you. He couldn’t accept that you might be better than him. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the last thing he thought. You’d beaten him. That would have been even harder for him to accept than dying.’

Stratton didn’t particularly care what Jason had thought. ‘See you around,’ he said as he turned and walked away.

‘You are a lucky bastard, though!’ Rowena called out.

Stratton didn’t look back. He continued walking, a smile growing on his face.