Chapter 37
One week later . . .
London, just like the entire country, was still reeling from the terrorist attacks that claimed the lives of over two hundred people and left more injured. A memorial service had been held that morning with almost all of London turning out to the streets to honour the victims and show any fanatics that may be watching that they would survive anything they threw at them.
Witnessing that type of solidarity reminded McAndrew of a phrase used during the Blitz; London could take it. And she could. Seeing her strength and the way the communities came together after the attacks warmed her chest with pride, but it also worried her. This was her city and she would defend it.
There may still be more yet unidentified bodies as the missing persons list grew by the day but despite this a clean-up operation was already underway across the capital as the top brass believed that all the immediate threats had been eliminated. Tech analysts had managed to crack through all the puzzles that Langdale and his team found in the field and were able to locate further targets and direct responders immediately. Those that didn't blow themselves up first were found en-route to their targets and eliminated before they could do any further damage, but Samantha was sure that half a dozen arrests were already being conducted abroad as the masterminds behind the attacks were unearthed with greater ferocity and determination.
The head of the snake however was confirmed dead, for real this time. Although Muhammad Abbas's date of death would not be changed on the agency's file as the entire episode in the Middle East was swept under the rug. It was an easy thing to do amongst the current chaos; it was nothing more than a single piece of a jigsaw puzzle that no one was going to put back together anytime soon.
Samantha wasn't sure how to feel about it as she thought about the people that could have been killed, including herself. Would they have been swept her under the carpet as well? Would they have told her parents and friends that she died in a car accident or just say that she was 'serving her country'? As she thought this the elevator door pinged open and she stared down the grey painted corridor towards the Director of MI5's office door. Clutching the file in her hand she stepped out of the elevator and down the corridor, her heels sinking in the soft carpet as she did so.
There was still one thing about this entire case that didn't sit right with Samantha, warranting her to pay Patricia Wallace a visit. If Ridgeway's special task force was scrapped when Evan and Jackson died then why had Ridgeway been in the field with, in her opinion, a brand new squad? She was one hundred percent certain that his project wasn't over and, in fact, was just getting started. Maybe Reynolds and the others were the tester group.
There weren't a lot of people who had the security level clearance needed for Samantha to talk to them about it so she decided to go straight to the one person she knew would have the right clearance and the answers she wanted – Patricia Wallace.
The end of the corridor opened into a wide waiting area in front of Patricia's glass office which was set in the north-east corner of the building. Samantha stopped in front of the director's PA, holding the folder behind her back.
"Is she free?" Samantha asked the brunette PA. A few grey fabric chairs were placed along the far wall with a small black table resting between each piece of furniture. When Samantha looked there now she saw a man in a military uniform sitting with a black leather briefcase resting on his lap and he appeared to have been waiting a while the way he looked at her apprehensively. He was worried he would have to wait longer than he already had.
He appeared important with the decorations on his front jacket and his stiff jaw but he obviously wasn't important enough yet or else he wouldn't be sat outside waiting as if he was in a dentist's waiting room and not the intelligence agency.
"She's busy I'm afraid," the receptionist replied, barely looking up as she continued typing into her keyboard. She had obviously been given instructions to turn most people away.
"It's important," Samantha turned back to her, catching the woman's gaze and keeping it as Samantha added, "It pertains to last week's attacks." She could see the receptionist falter and look over her shoulder at her boss's office, wondering whether to disturb her or not.
The receptionist slowly rose to her feet as she decided to take the risk after another look at Samantha's unwavering face. She was clearly annoyed that Samantha had refused to do as she said. "I shall just check for you." She smiled tightly and Samantha got the idea that as soon as she turned her back her eyes were rolling in her head.
Samantha thanked her and waited to be called in, thinking about what she was going to say and how she was going to get the director to tell her everything she wanted to know. She knew it wasn't going to be easy but she needed answers. She had the suspicion that either she or MI5 as a whole were being used but she didn't know how, or if by her being here she was playing into their game, but she did know that she wanted it to end.
A few moments later the receptionist returned, followed by a man with glasses and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was holding a thick file under his arm and kept his head down as he hurried past her.
"You can go in now," The receptionist smiled tightly at Samantha before she turned and explained to the gentleman waiting that the director would be with him momentarily.
Stepping into her office Samantha saw Wallace stood looking out the window with her back to her. "Director-" Samantha started to apologise for the intrusion when Wallace interrupted her.
"Shut the door behind you," Wallace said and Samantha obeyed, clicking the door shut behind them, as Wallace turned away from the window and faced her. The lights on her office ceiling were reflecting in her black-rimmed glasses, hiding her expression but Samantha got the sense that she did not appreciate a lowly agent such as herself demanding an audience with her, especially at a time like this, "What can I do for you?" She asked as she walked behind her desk.
Samantha took a few steps forward until she was deeper in her office and stood a few feet in front of her desk. She was holding the file on Ridgeway's task force in front of her. "I have some questions about a task I was assigned-"
"-Isn't this a job for your case worker?" Wallace asked as she sat down behind her desk and inhaled deeply, not understanding why this was of any concern to her, "I do not see why-"
"-The task involved General Ridgeway, ma'am," Samantha placed the folder on the desk in front of Wallace who paused what she was doing and looked up at her from behind her glasses. Samantha knew she had her attention and so she continued to outline her objective, "I was to track down the remaining members of, what he called, his "special task force" but from what I can tell, and what I've seen recently, it appears to be more of a "hit squad" than a military section."
Wallace turned the folder over and glanced through the pages, "And what is your question?"
Samantha's eyes narrowed a little at Wallace's lack of reaction to her comment about a hit squad but she already guessed that the director knew about it. "My question is why. Why was this folder left on my desk at the precisely the same time the General was in the UK visiting with the head of this country's intelligence? Why was I assigned to check up on a debunked black-ops group, unless . . ."
"Unless?" Wallace arched an eyebrow carefully as she looked back up at Samantha, her body language hesitant.
Samantha found herself smiling a little as she realised that she was right and leaned forward, resting her hands on the edge of the desk, "Unless it's not debunked any longer. Ridgeway is setting up a new task force, isn't he? And I think I met them."
Wallace breathed in through her teeth sharply as she sat up straight and shut the folder, removing her glasses and resting them on top of the closed folder, "Yes, well, when you are handed a task sometimes you will not uncover everything and that is just something you shall have to get used to."
"So you're telling me that it's a coincidence that the same time this folder shows up on my desk, which isn't the usual way I get my tasks by the way, General Ridgeway just so happens to be in the same building and has a team standing by when Britain is facing one of her biggest terrorist threats?"
"Be careful." Wallace reprimanded her as her eyes turned hard, "Before you go accusing a General of something you know nothing about make sure you have solid, rather than circumstantial, evidence."
"I'm not going to accuse him of anything," Samantha wasn't stupid enough to think that she would actually get anywhere with that, "I just don't want this intelligence service to be manipulated. Is Ridgeway setting up another task force? Why was he here that day?"
Wallace pressed her lips together as she regarded Samantha closely. She could tell that she was deciding whether to tell her or not.
"I promise that everything you say won't be repeated-"
"-You're damn right it won't be repeated because if it does you'll most probably be thrown into an American-British black site for treason but not before I'm through with you, do you understand?"
Samantha's throat went dry so she quickly nodded to let her know that she understood.
Wallace looked to the ceiling as if she couldn't believe that she was about to say this, "Turn out your pockets and give me your mobile." Samantha did as she was instructed and handed her mobile to the director who checked that it was turned off. "You are right about Ridgeway's last task force, from the meagre paper trail that was left I could tell they were involved in some pretty shady operations. Probably only a handful of them were actually sanctioned by the proper authorities."
"Off book?" Samantha gasped to herself.
"Exactly," Wallace nodded, "It is unclear how many operations they were involved in and I doubt even Ridgeway kept track."
"But how did British veterans Reynolds and Ramirez get to be a part of it and how did Ridgeway get away with it?"
"Ridgeway sold the ides as a joint American-British team acting against terrorism and all other threats to our country without the delay that red-tape causes. It was to cement our friendship with the Americans, but the training they proposed to put the participants under was, at the very least, controversial so we had to call for volunteers rather than assign certain personnel. Fifteen soldiers passed the psychological profile to be entered into the program but Reynolds and Ramirez were the only two to complete it," Wallace paused for effect, letting her words sink in, "They were getting good results but after two of the task members died in . . . suspicious circumstances, let's say, Ridgeway packed it in to avoid a formal hearing and the possible stripping of his rank."
Samantha didn't speak as she thought about what Wallace was saying, "But what about now?"
"Now," Wallace rose to her feet and crossed the room, "With the world tensions the way they are, Ridgeway has seen the opportunity to raise his "special task force" from the ashes. He's like Doctor Frankenstein and the task force is his monster, he won't rest until it sees life."
"We have to stop him," Samantha rushed forward, "He's using our government, and the American government, as a cover for hired assassins."
"There is nothing we can do," Wallace told her, "The Prime Minister and MPs were undecided until this situation in the middle-east arose and Muhammad Abbas was discovered alive. They have lost faith in our services and they are all now firmly in favour of having a new team out there to deal with these threats directly. They want to stop all future attacks against the United Kingdom and her allies and they see this as one of those ways."
"But-"
"-There is not 'but' McAndrew," Wallace planted her hands on her hips, "People higher on the food chain than you have decided this is going to happen and we must see it through. There is nothing you can do."
Samantha could not believe this, "Ridgeway is using them as puppets!"
"I agree," Wallace nodded, "And I wish it wasn't the case but it is and we must get used to it. My advice to you would be to get as far out of the firing line as possible."
"What do you mean?" MacAndrew frowned.
"I mean that at the moment no one is paying too much attention to anything other than our handling of the terrorist incident," Wallace walked back to her desk and scooped up the folder, "They don't know anything about the middle east or Ridgeway, but that won't last forever and sooner or later his new task force will implode just like the last one did and when it does there are going to be questions and inquisitions." Wallace opened the drawer on her desk and led the folder inside.
Samantha took a step forward to stop her but she knew there was nothing she could do.
"If you don't want to be linked to this in the future then you would do well to forget everything you saw and heard. Good day, MacAndrew." Wallace walked over to the door and held it open for her.
Shocked, Samantha turned and walked out of the room with not so much as a word of protest. She had to think carefully about what she was going to do next.
At the same time across London . . .
Julia, Twitch and Carlos had been camped out in Marc's room for the last week, refusing to move. The doctors and nurses at The Royal London Infirmary had stopped suggesting they go home to rest after it became clear that none of them were going to be leaving any time soon. On the third day the hospital had moved Marc into a much larger, private room which included an en-suite and extra room for three cots to be set up for them to sleep in but Julia could care less about a cot. She would sleep on the floor next to Marc's bed until he opened his eyes and she knew for certain that he was going to be okay.
She felt like she was permanently stood upon a cliff's edge and at any time a large gush of wind could come out of nowhere and push her over the edge. Her muscles were in a constant state of tension and her mind was running haywire with dozens of possibilities of what could happen next. She was exhausted as she sat in the light blue armchair next to Marc's bed, her arm in a matching blue sling from the gunshot wound to her shoulder. It had been a straight through and through so she had been patched up at the army hospital in Afghanistan before they were flown back to London. It ached a little but she had been told that nothing had been broken, nicked or chipped inside for her to worry about so she was given stitched up and given some painkillers before her journey back to Britain. Those painkillers had run out now though. Resting her elbow on her knee with her chin in her hand Jules stared at Marc's face. There was a large bandage around his neck from his second surgery and a ventilator tube was coming out of his mouth, taped down at the sides helping him to breathe. Twitch had tried explained at length to her and Carlos how the various medical equipment he was currently hooked up to was helping him and how it showed that he was going to be okay in the end but Jules didn't listen. She knew that it helped Twitch to methodically list everything that was helping Marc so she let him continue. He was now stood in the back corner of the room resting all his weight on his left leg as the other was taped up in a tough plastic cast with Velcro tape holding it together after surgery from where he had been shot in the leg. It had been touch and go the doctors had informed her and Carlos at one point due to there being trauma near to his femoral artery but he had survived the surgery. The last few days had been nothing but an emotional roller coaster for all of them and she wasn't sure if she could take much more of it. Carlos was laid back quietly on the cot behind her. None of them spoke, they were all just waiting. Waiting for the roller coaster ride to climb them higher and higher before the great fall the other side.
Nothing could ease her thoughts right then though except for Marc to open his eyes and tell her that he was going to be okay, and even then she didn't know if she would believe him.
Marc had been rushed into surgery when they had touched down at the base a little over a week ago – a week! Jules lowered her face into the palms of her hand. It felt like a lifetime since she was last speaking to him or feeling his arm around her. So much had changed in the split second and her worst fear had almost happened. Pure terror was running through her veins every second that Marc remained comatose and she couldn't handle it. She would take getting shot at over this any day.
It had been a toss-up whether to transport him back to the UK or not. He needed urgent specialist treatment to help repair the artery or vessels that been severed but the journey back could make him worse still. Julia hadn't been listening properly but she understood the gist; either Marc died out there or she could risk the journey and he might live or he could die in London instead. Julia hadn't known that it was possible to hold your breath for hours before until that plane ride and it still felt like she was holding her breath.
The machine would make a different noise or Carlos would suddenly move behind her and Jules would look straight to Marc, hoping that it had come from him only to find out that it hadn't and fall back into blind hope.
Marc had undergone a second surgery when they reached London and it had been a success, or so the doctor told them, and now they just had to wait but they didn't know how long for and there was a risk that Marc might not be the same as before if he did wake up because they didn't know how long his brain had been starved of oxygen from the lack of blood so they couldn't tell her if he would regain all of his previous capabilities but Jules did not care about that right then. And that was when she realised that this was how he must have felt when she had been comatose. The gut wrenching feeling that churned her stomach all day was the same thing that he must have felt when she lying unconscious in a hospital bed except that it would have continued because when she came around she didn't know who he was.
Running her fingers into over her forehead and into her hair Julia just wanted to rip it out as a tidal wave of guilt and grief crashed into her. Exploding to her feet, Jules let out an aggravated shout of annoyance and frustration as she turned away and paced to the other side of the room. Her shoulder sent out a flare of pain in protest which annoyed her further so she reached out and ripped the straps off before pulling the sling over the top of her head and throwing it to the ground. It wasn't doing anything anyway. Twitch raised his head and Carlos watched her around the room but neither of them said anything. She wanted to yell at Marc and tell him to wake up but she knew that it wouldn't do any good; she had already tried it a few times before.
"You know," Carlos said suddenly, making Twitch and Jules look at him, "If Marc was awake he'd be telling us to-" But he did not get to finish his sentence when there was a knock at the door. Jules spun around sharply whilst Carlos sat up, his legs swinging over the side of the bed, and Twitch stood up from where he had been leaning against the wall.
"Perhaps it's the doctor," Twitch muttered as he took a hobbled step towards the door but Jules just narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"No," Julia shook her head, "It's not." If it was the doctor then he would have just walked straight in after knocking but this person hadn't and it was too early for the doctor anyway, his rounds started at two thirty but it was only one o'clock.
"Marc's parents?" Twitch asked, not understanding her concern.
Jules shook her head again as she stepped around Twitch and towards the door, "They're not due back till tonight." The single rectangular window in the door was distorted so she couldn't see who was stood outside except for their generic silhouette.
"No matter who it is," Carlos said as he rose to his feet, causing Jules to look over her shoulder at him, "We have to open the door. This is London, not Afghanistan. Remember?"
Conceding, Jules walked across the room and opened the door wide for everyone to see who it was and when she did she wanted to slam it shut in his face.
"Finally," Ridgeway muttered as he obviously ignored the anger on her face and manoeuvred himself around her and into the room, "Carlos. Twit." He nodded his head to each of them in turn as he glanced around the room to make sure they were alone.
"It's Twitch," Twitch clarified angrily as Ridgeway's slip of the tongue was obviously not a mistake.
"What the fuck do you want?" Carlos snapped as he stepped forward and placed himself between Ridgeway and Marc when he grew too close to his bed.
"Just dropping by to offer my well wishes," Ridgeway frowned at Carlos's protective behaviour.
"Then send a fucking get well soon card," Carlos clenched his jaw, his nostrils flaring, and knowing full well that he was swearing too much but he didn't care, "What do you really want?"
Deep anger flashed behind Ridgeway's eyes, "You know what Carlos, you were a good operative under my command but you were always the wild card. I didn't know how you would turn out but now I do and I'm glad you quit my task force."
Carlos snorted and arched an eyebrow at Ridgeway's attempt to dig into him but it was futile, "Me too, now sling your hook." He nodded in the direction of the door.
Ridgeway's cheeks wobbled slightly as he bristled, his shoulders jutting back as he pushed his chest out in anger, "I was your commanding officer and you will speak to me as such," Ridgeway barked. The corners of Carlos's eyes creased as he narrowed them at Ridgeway.
"But you weren't mine," Twitch stepped forward and stood beside Carlos, smiling broadly at Ridgeway as he turned to face him.
"Enough," Julia sighed, "I'm not doing this over Marc's hospital bed." Carlos and Twitch said nothing but remained steadfast in front of Marc. She didn't know why though, it wasn't like Ridgeway could hurt him further but she appreciated the sentiment. These two men were like her brothers and it was at times like these that she appreciated being fortunate enough to find them.
"Thank you Sergea-"
"-Cut the crap," Jules looked at Ridgeway, "I'm not in the mood for pleasantries either so just tell me what you really came here to tell me then we can get this over with. I think we'd both appreciate that."
"Okay," Ridgeway looked out of the corner of his eye to Twitch and Carlos, "I suppose you want them to stay as well."
Jules just stared at him and blinked, waiting for him to get to the point. They had been through this dance far too many times for her to care anymore. She was finally willing to put everything that she could remember that had happened between them behind her for Marc's sake.
"I hope you're enjoying the room," Ridgeway looked around as he said it, "I managed to pull a few strings and get Marc placed in here."
Again, Jules said nothing and just arched her eyebrows, crossing her arms over her chest as her patience grew thin. She wasn't entirely surprised by his claim because it was exactly the thing he would do. She was also certain that one of those strings he had pulled was in fact a 'who' and they were keeping him up to date with Marc's condition which was why he was showing up now and not a few days ago. He was waiting for Marc to stabilise until he made his move which Jules was fairly certain she already knew what it was. She hadn't forgotten the promise she had made him.
"You know, when we were being airlifted out of that compound Marc had lost too much blood to make it back to base," Ridgeway pressed his lips together and looked at the floor momentarily as if he had to compose himself before he could continue which Julia just rolled her eyes at his dramatics, "Twitch here," Ridgeway emphasised his name correctly, "informed me that Marc and I were the same blood type and I offered my blood for a transfusion."
Julia darted her eyes at Twitch who gave her a small nod and closed his eyes in regret, confirming Ridgway's story, "It's true. Ridgeway gave Marc his blood."
"Ergh, poor Marc," Carlos scrunched up his nose in mock disgust but Ridgeway did not rise to the bait.
"And as it was my phone call that led the aircraft to us at the compound-"
"-The phone call you placed before me and Marc went out to confront Abbas, is that the phone call you mean?" Julia narrowed her eyes.
"We needed to buy some time," Ridgeway told her, "Nevertheless, my aircraft and my blood saved Marc's life. Now, do you remember what you said you would do if I saved Marc?" Both Twitch and Carlos now turned on the spot to look at her.
"I said-" Julia looked to the ceiling and sighed, "I said I would owe you a favour."
"You promised him a fav-" Carlos exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air in dismay when she shot him a look and he just turned away.
"Yes you did," Ridgeway smiled, "I just wanted to make sure that we were on the same page. Oh don't worry," He added when he saw the apprehension in her eyes, "I won't be calling it in just yet a while . . . but one day I will." Julia could almost feel herself sliding into his pocket where she would remain until he called on it.
A deal was a deal and though she might have regretted saying it now it had been exactly what was needed at the time. As her mother used to say, she had made her bed and now she had to lie in it.
"Okay," Jules replied before she walked back to the door and opened it, "Now, get out."
"Very well," Ridgeway pulled at the bottom of his suit jacket, "I said what I came here to say. I shall see you in the future Sergeant Reynolds. Carlos, Twitch." Ridgeway inclined his head a little as he spoke their names but neither of them returned the gesture as he walked out of the door with a smirk on his lips. Jules let the door swing shut behind him and she wished she could say that it was the last time she would see him but she couldn't.