The Alex King Series A BATEMAN (summer reading list txt) 📖

said, some of my people dug a little, turns out they dug up a whole load of shit.”

Amherst leaned forwards conspiratorially. Villiers followed suit. “Say what’s on your mind, James. I’m not playing your fucking games.”

Villiers straightened, taken aback. “Fine,” he said indignantly. “I’ll cut to the chase, then. There were people connected to your main suspect in a terrorism case, and they all died. Astonishingly, our investigators unearthed some wholly unbelievable anecdotal evidence that the former president of Russia was somehow involved, too. Many years before he straightened himself out and became an upstanding politician.”

“Now there’s a contradiction in terms…”

“Indeed. But the Russian president had a wicked, insidious past, and it would seem it caught up with him.” Villiers sipped some more of his tea. “Biscuit, old boy?”

Amherst shook his head. He sipped some tea for the distraction. He could tell the old spy in front of him was weighing him up. Amherst had come through the civil service. Villiers had worked out of embassies all over the world as an asset. He had run native agents, bribed and cajoled, sanctioned the use of lethal force – even helped the people who got their hands dirty get in place. And out again. He was an old salt, and he made the career civil servant nervous.

“You see, I know there was some off the reservation affair, and believe me, I understand. You had a missing agent, and your team worked tirelessly to get her back, and take out the threat. I get that. But what I don’t get, is why you went after the head of state of the second most, or perhaps even the most powerful nation on the planet.”

“Who says we did?”

Villiers smiled. “I’m sure it was unofficial.”

“We sanctioned no such assassination. Official, or otherwise.”

“Coincidence, then?”

“Of course.”

Villiers nodded. “I have an issue, I was hoping you could help me resolve?”

“Go on.”

“The Russian government’s reaction to their president being murdered was to cast their aspersions upon MI6 and the CIA. Our diplomats are persona non grata and the embassies are now empty. We lost our eyes and ears. Our official agents are twiddling their thumbs at home, while we have nobody out there to watch the show.”

Amherst shrugged. “It will play down,” he said. “We expelled theirs after the Salisbury nerve agent affair. They subsequently were allowed back; the Prime Minister hasn’t gone tit-for-tat, yet. With the Russians still here, our expulsion should be short-lived. They’ll want your agents out there where they can keep an eye on them again.”

“Yes, that’s all well and good,” Villiers said curtly. “But the Russians are doing some digging of their own. They will find the same link my agents made between these dead Russian mafia bosses and their esteemed former leader. When your missing agent and her heroic fiancé and all ensemble involved come into the fray, well, MI5 had better have the right answers in place. You certainly won’t come out of it holding onto the Director General post. And Commons Select Committees are incredibly taxing. The pressure affects your home life, too.”

Amherst stiffened. Was there no end to what this old spy could know, or how he could spin it?

“You see,” Villiers went on. “Our man in Pretoria met your missing agent, formed a bit of a bond with her. He was there, or rather, we were there when she got in a spot and needed our help. That’s fine. Professional curtesy. An agent in need. But he also told my investigators that he knew your agent’s fiancé. Knew him from old…”

Amherst knew this wasn’t going to be a meeting he left the room in control of. He could feel his career unravelling.

“Some of my more tenacious investigators did a little more digging,” Villiers paused. “Actually, a lot of digging. Turns out your agent who was known by a man on a desk in South Africa was a ghost. No employment records, but he certainly worked for MI6 prior to MI5. The digging went deeper. I called ex-employees. A combination of stick and carrot. I got back some surprising anecdotes. Have you heard of the Reaper?”

“Sounds a little fantastical.”

“No doubt. But the man that your agent got herself engaged to, was a fully-fledged black ops specialist for MI6 for more than a dozen years. Now, he did some sort of deal with your deputy director’s predecessor, Charles Forrester. A good man. But I fear even he went a little rogue towards the end. He took on this chap, signed him up as an unofficial he had brought in from the cold. Got him all pensioned up and PAYE’d and working for the other side. Your side.”

Amherst leaned back in his chair. He had always had his doubts about King, but he had inherited him. But the man also got the job done and it had not taken Amherst long in the role to see that there would always be jobs that needed doing that few would ever be capable of. He picked up his cup again, but the tea was cold. He chanced it anyway, could feel his throat drying out.

“It gets better. A series of unfortunate accidents over a short period not only led to a regime change within the SIS, but sparked suspicion. It also led to the disappearance of the Reaper. The man named Alex King. How about that?”

“You aren’t seriously suggesting that Alex King had something to do with that, are you?”

Villiers steepled his fingers and stared at Amherst. He watched until the MI5 man glanced away. He smiled. “I have it on good authority that the top tier of MI6 was as rotten as anytime in history. More so. Forget Kim Philby. Forget Burgess and Maclean. There were men in charge at the River House that made a mockery of what it is we do. The heroes of both