Jack Reacher - The London Gambit

Part One - Paris

As the night drew in, the rain followed, dancing across the paving stones, forming mirrors of lights whenever the roads allowed. Through rain or shine the streets of Paris never failed to illuminate romance. Only romance was the last thing on Rory Claymores mind.
The PM had been perfectly clear, "no shootouts on the streets of Paris". Easier said than done, especially when it came to dealing with Moroccan arms dealers. They certainly didn't come with any Ministerial instructions of their own, the plethora of assault rifles slung casually over the shoulders of the half dozen bodyguards spoke loudly to that!
Parked at the back of the alley were two 12 tonne trucks, each with a driver and passenger similarly armed to the teeth. Their leader, a man known to Claymore as Fazeel, stepped out of the shadows and gestured for him to step forward.
Aside from the two men Claymore had with him, there was a six man assault team in the adjacent building and four snipers perfectly triangulating the alley they were stood in. If the shit did hit the fan, it was all over for these guys in a heartbeat. "I've never stepped into an alley I couldn't walk out of" he'd remembered reassuring the PM at the mission briefing earlier that morning. Not entirely true but in this case he was confident of security.
"I'm still wondering why a man of your standing would agree to meet a man of mine" said Fazeel with a sneer.
Claymore smiled. "Don't confuse the suits I wear in London with a civility long passed my friend".
As they met at the high point of the alley they embraced as brothers, old friends who hadn't seen each other in years.
"You old dog! Still looking young as ever! What's your secret?" Asked Fazeel.
"A trick I learned in Iraq. Lots of moisturiser" answered Claymore with a huge smile spreading across his face.
"So what's this news that was so important you'd come out of hiding in Paris to tell me?" Asked Claymore.
"Not here my friend, it's best we speak somewhere a little less exposed"
Fazeel seemed more nervous than Claymore could remember. He'd always been a cautious man, even back in the day. They first worked together to bring down an IRA splinter cell that had stolen a large cache of weapons from one of Fazeels convoys. After that, the security he kept with him was always extensive, often to the point of overkill.
This time there was a nervousness that surpassed caution, a heightened level of paranoia Claymore couldn't quite understand and liked even less.
"Ok my friend, let's get out of this rain and have some of that sludge you call coffee" Claymore gestured behind Fazeel and they turned towards the trucks. "Then you can tell me all about what's got you so spooked"
Without warning the alley suddenly exploded into a maelstrom of fire and steel. The cabins of both trucks exploded into a mass of blood & bone as the men inside were engulfed by overwhelming firepower. The six men guarding Fazeel fared no better as they were raked with high calibre gunfire from above, each being torn to pieces in under a second.
"With me!" Claymore shouted as he half grabbed, half pushed Fazeel towards a doorway on their right. They burst through, closely followed by the two men that had arrived with Claymore'
"What the fuck is going on? Report control" barked Claymore into the coms device on his shoulder. No answer.
"Rooftop units, assault team, report"
Still nothing.
"What the hell have you gotten me into this time old friend?
"Get me out of this alive and I'll tell you all you need to know and more" answered a clearly frantic Fazeel.
"Ok, let's go" barked Claymore, "Evac route B"
The group of four made their way through the building and into the cellar. Once there they found the hole into the sewers the advance team had prepared earlier that evening. As they dropped into the damp tunnel Claymore turned to Fazeel.
"Seriously Fazeel, who the fuck have you pissed off and what the fuck kind of weapons operating system does that to a group of men so quickly?"
"I don't know where the weaponry comes from or who controls it. All I know is it's propitiatory systems are like nothing ever seen and it's going to change the art of warfare forever. Whoever has developed it has been testing it in Afghanistan with similar results. The fire comes from way above, higher than anything even an AC-130 gunship can deliver. The precision is scary as shit and even scarier is that nobody has a fucking clue who's developed it!"
"Hey come on Fazeel, are you seriously telling me that the man with his finger on the pulse of every new weapons system for the last 30 years doesn't know who's behind this?"
"I swear to god Rory, this is why I came to you! It's time for this to come out, I figured you for the man to see. Speak to your Prime Minister, get your government behind the investigation and find out where's its coming from!"
"Ok, ok. Let's get back to London and we can regroup from there. Are you absolutely sure nobody else has any ideas on where this system may have come from, who's developed it?"
"Absolutely 100%. I chanced upon the information from an Afghani SF guy one of my men knew from back In the day. The only surviving member of a strike team hit by this weapon when investigating what appears to have been a test site. He died soon after from acute radiation poisoning. Seems a piece of shrapnel was embedded in his thigh during the attack and he'd left it in. Other than that the information highway is closed for business. If I don't know anymore, theres nothing more to know"
"Ok. I believe you. Let's head out." Claymore turned to his men, "You two stay here and take care of the body."
Fazeel stopped in his tracks and tilted his head sideways. "What body?" he asked?
Pfft. Pfft.
Two shots from a silenced Glock 19 entered the back of Fazeels head and he slumped to the ground, dead before he hit.
Claymore unscrewed the silencer and handed it to one of his men before holstering the weapon he'd just killed his friend of over 20 years with. He reached into his pocket for the secure mobile and pressed 'call' to the only number stored within its memory.
"It's done. As far as I can tell he's the only one left who knew anything about the system. I'll need to head back out to Afghanistan to make sure the test site is cleared up but I think we're in the clear. If anybody was going to know enough about the Zeus system to hurt us it would have been Fazeel"
"Well done my friend", whispered the PM, "I'm sure it couldn't have been easy resolving this loose end, given your connection."
"Fuck him," whispered Claymore back, "piece of shit arms dealer got what he deserved. Ive been waiting to do that for years. I'll call you from Afghanistan once I have the site secured. Claymore out."
The British Prime Minister turned to his safe and replaced the coded mobile, turning the biometric system back to lock as he closed the door.
"Everything ok sir?" Asked the valet as he placed the tray of coffee and cake on the desk.
"Absolutely Winston. Just catching up with an old friend."
He smiled and settled back into his chair, content that the last lose end was being tied up neatly by his old friend from their days in the SAS together. The UN couldn't find about this system they'd developed, nor the rest of the world. Not until he was ready to make his play and finally extract his revenge on the man who'd changed his life forever all those years ago. Putin was a dead man, he just didn't know it yet.