Boxer left Mercy in the car. As he headed for Fox’s front door, Mercy’s phone rang. The voice.
‘What are you up to, Mercy?’
She gave him a recap of the night so far.
‘That’s good. Just what we want. The important thing now is that you tell Ryder Forsyth all of this first. He’s going to appreciate it. He’ll let you in to his deeper thinking, and that’s what we want.’
Boxer turned as he got to Fox’s door, saw Mercy on her phone. He was hoping there’d be a more open discussion with Fox without her presence, although nothing was guaranteed where Martin Fox was concerned. He called him, knew that Fox always slept with his mobile close to his heart, closer than his wife.
‘Jesus Christ, Charlie, it’s two o’clock in the bloody morning,’ said Fox, whispering hoarsely.
‘I’m outside your door. We need to talk.’
‘I’ll be down,’ said Fox, suddenly awake.
Fox let him in wearing a paisley dressing gown, striped pyjamas and slippers with a gold crest on the toes. Boxer followed him into the kitchen, where Fox made builder’s tea in mugs.
‘I’m going to say one word that I hope will stimulate an open and frank discussion about what the hell’s going on here,’ said Boxer.
‘Go on.’
‘Hoplon.’
The mug stopped on the way to Fox’s mouth. He shook his head in dismay.
‘Well that’s a start,’ said Boxer. ‘We’ve had it confirmed that Conrad Jensen’s company Ferguson Consulting Ltd in Bermuda made a payment to your Hoplon company. Do you want to tell me what services you were supplying?’
‘How the hell did that get out?’
‘I think Conrad Jensen keeps the people around him in the dark, so nobody knows what’s important and what should be kept secret. Jensen paid three companies, one of which was Hoplon. I found out that Hoplon was a type of ancient shield, and after our chat a few days ago, I naturally thought of Pavis.’
‘And the other two?’
‘You might be able to help me on that,’ said Boxer. ‘Xiphos, owned by a guy called Julius Klank …’
‘I know him. He does what I do, but in America.’
‘I’m assuming you mean he supplies personnel for work that might not be entirely legal.’
‘He’s an ex-Gulf War vet from 1991. He was one of the poor bastards who didn’t react well to being vaccinated against chemical weapons. He runs a sideline to his main security business employing disgruntled vets from various US military campaigns who are prepared to act in, how shall I put it, unconventional ways.’
‘We’re still trying to get more information on the third participant who received money from Jensen. His company is called Kaluptein …’
‘Strange name.’
‘It’s the root of the word “apocalypse” and it means “to cover”. And Xiphos is a double-edged sword,’ said Boxer. ‘Who came up with these names?’
‘Conrad Jensen.’
‘Kaluptein is owned by a guy called Boris Bortnik. Know him?’
‘Heard of him but don’t know him,’ said Fox. ‘He’s ex-SVR and has teamed up with a mafia outfit in Moscow called Dolgoprudninskaya.’
‘Any idea why Jensen would contact him for this series of kidnaps?’
‘Series?’
‘There’ve been five kidnaps and six victims, all billionaires’ kids. One of them is a Russian guy called Sergei Yermilov.’
‘Yermilov!’ said Fox, startled, scared even. ‘Why’s he tangling with Yermilov and co.? They’re lethal, those guys. The connections they have go deep inside the Russian military and intelligence establishment. But yes, I can see why they might want advice from Bortnik on that. Yermilov is with Solntsevskaya, and there’s no love lost between them and Dolgoprudninskaya. The SVR are going to be crawling all over this.’
‘Let’s get back to what you were supplying to Conrad Jensen, and for what purpose.’
‘Well, going back to our earlier conversation,’ said Fox, ‘Jensen wasn’t interested in anyone who’d kill people, and certainly not children, even the entitled, privileged children of the massively rich.’
‘What about killing people who were protecting the entitled children of the massively rich?’
‘Is that what happened?’
‘The Yermilov boy was under armed guard. The kidnappers were disguised as police. They stopped traffic in both directions and killed the driver and bodyguard.’
‘Were they the only casualties?’
‘As far as I know,’ said Boxer. ‘Now tell me what Conrad was interested in from you.’
‘He wanted two people. The first was a very specifically described driver who could speak some German. He had to be a certain height and build with a defined head shape and preferably blonde hair cut in a certain way. He also had to be someone prepared to work with a team of people he wouldn’t know and not averse to committing or witnessing violence. The second was someone fairly young who could supply high quality drugs.’
‘And you knew people who could do this?’
‘The first one, yes.’
‘You got a name?’
‘I’m not sure how much use it would be to you. He operates under so many aliases …’
‘How do you pay him?’
‘Cash.’
‘How do you make contact with him?’
‘We have a dead drop.’
‘OK, we’ll need to make use of that.’
‘It won’t work.’
‘Why?’
‘He never does consecutive jobs. He will only work for me with at least six months in between. He completely keeps his distance, wouldn’t even answer a dead drop from me now.’
‘OK, what about the other guy? The drug dealer type.’
‘I couldn’t access him direct. I had to source him through someone else.’
‘Would that be through Jennifer – Jeff – Cook?’
Martin Fox nodded.
‘Tell me about her.’
‘She’s an active officer in British Military Intelligence in Afghanistan. She’s left wing and hates the way the American military operates.’
‘Have you used her before?’
‘No. I know her sister. She’s given me useful information.’
‘So why did you approach her?’
‘The last time she was back here we were talking about how soldiers coped under the pressure of being in Helmand Province, and drug use came up. She talked about a marine she knew who could supply, who’d now left the army. I made a mental note, and when this approach came from Jensen I told him about it.’
‘So how did it work?’
‘I don’t know, because Jensen said he would only deal with Jeff direct,’ said Fox. ‘She refused a fee and I arranged a payment for the ex-marine in cash.’
‘How can I get in touch with Jeff Cook?’
‘Probably have to go to Afghanistan,’ said Fox.
‘So when did you set all this up?’
‘Over Jeff Cook’s Christmas leave.’
‘Do you think she met Jensen?’
‘She must have done.’
‘When did you meet Jensen?’
‘Last November, in Dubai.’
‘Did Jensen mention kidnapping?’
‘No. He said he just wanted to recruit people for an experimental project.’
‘How did he describe it?’
‘Not as kidnapping. Something along the lines of finding a way to make people look at the same world differently. In fact he said it was more of an artistic enterprise rather than having any criminal intention.’
‘So what did you think when I started talking to you about Conrad Jensen’s disappearance back there in Green Park?’ asked Boxer. ‘And more to the point, what about Jensen’s daughter Siobhan? How did she know about my special service, and why?’
‘I thought Jensen had disappeared to start his weird project.’
‘Why would he send his daughter to find me?’
‘Go
od question.’
‘They used Siobhan to get close to Amy and now they’ve kidnapped her as well.’
‘With what intention?’
‘Difficult to say, except they know I’ll come after her.’
‘So they want you too … I don’t get it.’
‘Nor do I.’
‘As for your special service, I’ve no idea how they knew about that, but it wasn’t from me,’ said Fox. ‘Jensen is mixing at all levels of social strata. He speaks lots of different languages, some human and some technological, and he operates in a highly connected world. He could have found out from any of the people you’ve done that sort of work for.’
‘There’ve not been that many.’
‘Maybe it was the Russian, Marat Zarubin, whose boy you rescued from the Ukrainian gang. Jensen seems well connected in Russia. Speaks the language.’
‘Text me Zarubin’s number,’ said Boxer. ‘Where did you see Jeff Cook when she was here?’
‘She has a flat in Hackney.’
‘Text me her mobile number as well.’
‘I’m pretty sure she’s in Afghanistan.’
‘This is just me at the moment. No police involved. If you and any of your people want it to stay like that, then you’d better be co-operative,’ said Boxer. ‘At the moment, your standing with Simon Deacon is safe, but don’t push me, Martin. It’s galling to hear him speak so highly of you and your spotless reputation.’
‘You know as well as I do, Charlie, that there are two worlds. The one we all see and the one that’s carefully hidden from us. All I can tell you is that the one that’s hidden is a lot bigger than the one we see and the rules are not the same. I have to operate in both to make a living.’
By 01.55 three short films of the punishments given to Siena Casey, Rakesh Sarkar and Wú Gao were finished. After each film the hostage was taken back to their cell and given a sedative.
At 01.59, a specially insulated forty-foot container arrived at the warehouse in south London and was backed into an old loading bay. Two men opened the doors to the container and three layers deep of flat-screen TVs were removed to reveal a wall with a door in it.
Beyond the door was a narrow corridor, which opened out into a space with a table and chairs. On each side were three sleeping pods with glass windows, which could be locked and seen into but were opaque from the inside.
The two men opened up the six pods and switched on the ventilation system. In the corner were a couple of emergency oxygen cylinders. There was also a drawer of medical supplies and a fridge holding IV saline drips and blood products. The men prepared the sleeping pods by laying down clean sheets, duvets and pillows.
Meanwhile a doctor went into the cells containing the hostages, who were already asleep from the drugs administered earlier, and gave them a quick medical check. As each one was passed for travel, the two men came in and removed the hostage to a sleeping pod. Within half an hour all the hostages were comfortable and the two men, who were trained nurses, locked themselves into the room inside the container. The TV units were reloaded and the doors shut.
At 02.34, the container left the loading bay and started its journey down to Portsmouth to catch the ferry to northern Spain.
At 02.36, the comatose forms of Amy Boxer and Marcus Alleyne were loaded into a white transit van, which also left the premises. The remaining team went through the warehouse and bleach-cleaned the cells where the hostages had been held. By 03.14, the premises were empty of any human trace.
At 03.10, Boxer was sitting in the car trying to call Jeff Cook. There was no response from her mobile.
‘Martin said she was in Afghanistan.’
‘There’s one way of checking,’ said Mercy. ‘It’s not as if we don’t have the means.’
‘I know, but it will take things away from us.’
‘There’s nothing we can do about her on our own if she’s out there.’
‘Are you going to call Hines?’
‘I’m not sure. I was thinking of telling Ryder Forsyth directly.’
‘Any reason?’
‘The people holding Marcus told me to make Ryder love me.’
Mercy sent Forsyth a text to ask if she could talk to him and got an immediate reply. They drove to Wilton Place.
‘By the way, I asked Ryder if he knew you and he denied it. I could see he was lying but he didn’t care.’
‘That’s crazy. We were on missions together into southern Iraq. We argued a lot, drank a lot…we even had a fight once, which I lost,’ said Boxer. ‘We had grudging respect for each other. I thought he was impossibly arrogant, but at least he was right most of the time.’
‘So why the denial?’
‘Just the way some people are,’ said Boxer.
‘Bullshit.’
‘All right, if you have to know, I stole his woman. Or rather, she left him to be with me.’
‘Was that another one of those really long relationships you had back in the day?’
And with no warning, Boxer found himself turning to the window and crying at his half-reflection.
‘Oh Christ, Charlie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.’
‘Not your fault,’ said Boxer. ‘Just came from nowhere.’
They drove in silence. Boxer recovered almost as quickly as he’d gone into it. They arrived at Wilton Place. Boxer stayed in the car. Forsyth answered the door himself and led Mercy up the stairs to the living room, where she told him about Reef and Leo and the connection to Jennifer Cook and where she was serving.
‘You told anyone else about this? Like DCS Hines?’
‘Not so far. I thought you should be the first to know.’
‘Do you mind if we keep it like that for a few hours?’
‘Any reason?’
‘We’d like to be the first to talk to Jennifer Cook,’ said Forsyth. ‘It’s always better to interview people when they’re unprepared. Just give me a minute.’
Forsyth left the room. He was gone for ten minutes. There was no sound in the house and he startled her when he returned.
‘How did you get to Reef and then Cook?’ he asked, sitting down again.
‘By pursuing the Conrad Jensen lead.’
‘I tip my hat to you, Mercy. Sorry I doubted your instinct. That means Jensen is involved in this.’
‘Yes, but in what capacity I’m not sure. I know that he and his daughter are in it,’ said Mercy. ‘The lead I got was from a contact phone number left in the flat his daughter was renting. I had that traced and it led to Reef. What I’d like from you is to find Walden Garfinkle, as he was one of the last people to see Conrad Jensen when he was at the Savoy.’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Do you know a man called Julius Klank?’
Forsyth nodded.
‘He received a payment from Conrad Jensen into an account under the name Xiphos in Belize.’
‘For what?’
‘That I don’t know,’ said Mercy. ‘But I imagine it’s for supplying men or services to this project.’
‘Project?’
‘The other name who received money from Jensen, into an account called Kaluptein in the British Virgin Islands, was Boris Bortnik.’
‘Don’t know him,’ said Forsyth, making notes now.
‘He works for a mafia outfit in Moscow called Dolgoprudninskaya.’
‘Maybe Sergei Yermilov can help with that.’
‘Anything happened here? How’s Emma taking it?’
‘I made sure she didn’t see what they did to her daughter,’ said Forsyth.
‘Which was?’
‘Part of a brutal demonstration by the kidnappers to establish a single line of contact for all the hostages,’ said Forsyth. ‘They waterboarded her.’
‘My God.’
‘Electric shocks to the German girl and they put the Russian boy in a gas mask and cut off his air supply,’ said Forsyth. ‘And it happened absolutely when they said it would, within minutes of the deadline.’
r /> ‘What about the demand for expenses?’ asked Mercy. ‘Anything happened with that?’
‘We’ve been given all the delivery details for the money except time and place.’
‘And is that going ahead?’
‘None of the victims’ parents have raised any protest so far.’
‘Do you know Conrad Jensen, by the way?’ asked Mercy.
‘No,’ said Forsyth. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘It’s interesting that they wanted you to be the lead negotiator. Normally they’d want to maintain the connection with the parents, where they would get the maximum emotional leverage. And most gangs prefer to talk to civilians even if they know there are professionals in the background. But to cut them out and make you totally responsible seems odd. They’re also saying that the expenses demand is the last they’ll make. What’s that all about? This isn’t a ransom, but we don’t want any more money.’
‘I’ve got to say, it’s very confusing,’ said Forsyth. ‘But the other thing the victims’ families have access to is power. And that worries me, having seen the lengths the kidnappers were prepared to go to establish a single line of communication. What will happen if they start asking for really complex political or financial manoeuvres that demand agreement from others? I wouldn’t like to be the one to test their ruthlessness.’
‘And the money. Have you ever known such a quantity of money to be delivered in this fashion in a kidnap?’
‘Never. I’m not sure how they’re going to be able to get away with nearly four tons of loosely packed money in plastic wrapping,’ said Forsyth. ‘That’s quite apart from how they’ll have to expose themselves in order to pick it up and where they will have to take it. I can’t see how it’s going to work.’
At 05.44, Captain Jennifer Cook was on her way to Camp Bastion. She was in a convoy of just two Foxhound vehicles, as the road from Forward Operating Base Sterga 2 to the south-west of Lashkar Gah had been very well secured and constantly checked for IEDs. They were aiming to get to Camp Bastion at sunrise, just after seven o’clock.
She had just completed a circuit observing the dismantling process of Main Operating Base Price, north-east of Lashkar Gah, followed by a training mission by the Afghan special forces units in Lashkar Gah itself, and finishing with a briefing of British troops at what would be, in a few months’ time, the last remaining forward operating base at Sterga 2. She’d also filmed a survey of opium poppy growing in these two areas and was dismayed to find a 50 per cent increase in land under cultivation for opium over the last year. None of their initiatives had worked. She still cared about it, but it was now beyond British control and the power brokers in Afghan politics would have their way.