The Marine Bk. 02 Ch. 04

I kissed her cheek. "Thanks. I wasn't doubting, but the fact I returned here and just thought 'Job done, what next?'"

"What is next?"

"Wolverhampton tomorrow then further north afterwards. I won't be back until the job is done."

"We've got surveillance on all of them. I'll let you know if anything changes."

She stayed the night with me, and for one of the very few times when she did, we didn't have sex. After we showered together, we got into bed and she cuddled with me. It felt nice. Again, that word I'd thought of that morning. Domestic.

I would need to drive north, though I wouldn't use my own car. After parting with Jennifer the next morning, I travelled by bus towards a lock up in south London, taking a ten-year-old VW Golf. On the outside, it was a piece of shit. But it had been overhauled and there were a few modifications inside. As I drove towards Birmingham, and then across to Wolverhampton, Jennifer kept me up to date with the situation while I checked his phone from time to time. The targets were trying to contact Faisal. They were not overly concerned, most of them joking about him finding a girl to shag over the weekend. Suited me just fine that they were not taking it seriously yet.

I called Ibrahim as I was on the outskirts of Wolverhampton. He was another young idiot, just like Faisal. I would have felt nothing if I was going to shoot him, but I'd handle him like Faisal. "Hey, Mo. What's up?"

"Mate, things are fucked up. We've got to meet."

"What's wrong, brother?"

"I think Faisal is in trouble. Have you heard from him today?"

"No."

"We need to talk. Something isn't right, brother. I've got a bad feeling..."

"Shit... Shit... Where are you?"

"Wolverhampton. Before you ask, no, I haven't been followed. Trust me, I'll know if the pigs are on my tail. But I need somewhere to lay low a while. If they've got Faisal..."

"I'll need to call him."

"They're probably listening into him, Ibra. If Faisal is picked up, maybe they... Maybe they know?"

"Shit... If they've got Faisal, they must be watching... Shit... Okay, come to my place, brother. We'll figure out what to do from there."

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

As I said, idiots. Barely had to convince him. He should have been telling me to piss off and lay low elsewhere. What was in my favour is that all these young men either lived alone, or lived with like-minded individuals. Ibrahim did live with others, so I'd have to handle this carefully. I knew his roommate wasn't involved in the plot.

So I pulled a fast one. I called him again half an hour later. "Ibra, fuck, they're definitely watching your house. I can't stop and head inside."

"What? You sure?"

"Definitely, brother. They were obvious. You've seen movies, right?"

"Yeah, yeah. Right, brother. So what should we do?"

"They're only watching the front. Slip out the back and meet me where I've parked. We'll think of what to do next."

Ten minutes later, I was driving us out of Wolverhampton, Ibrahim looking incredibly nervous next to me. Driving us north, I kept off the main routes, letting him believe I knew what I was doing. I led us into the countryside, driving down narrow lanes with next to no traffic. Once I was confident there was no-one around for miles, I pulled the car over by a wooded area, suggesting that I needed to pee. As nervous as he was, I wasn't surprised he got out and led the way.

I let him get around ten paces in front of me. I'd never shoot someone in the back. I still had some code of honour, despite what I was now doing. "Ibrahim," I stated flatly. He turned around to see the barrel of my weapon pointed at his chest.

He knew immediately. I didn't talk to him like I did with Faisal. I just put a dart into his chest, watching him slump to the ground. No second guessing about what I was doing this time, wondering if I should kill them or not. Faisal and Ibraham were nobodies in the grand scheme of things, those who would simply be strapped with vests and told where to go. They were pretty much dumb kids, influenced by others, made promises that wouldn't come true. The others were the organisers, those who would deserve nothing but the bullet I was more than willing to put in them.

I called Jennifer, let her know the location, the information I'd left nearby that implicated him in the crime, got in my car and found the nearest main road heading north. I knew with two now disappeared, the others would grow ever more concerned.

The target in Leeds lived alone. By the time I got to his place, he was already asleep. Breaking in was child's play, ensuring he didn't hear me climb the stairs to his bed. No point in using my firearm, simply smothering him with a pillow. It was my first kill as an agent, and I felt nothing for him. He was the bombmaker, the one who would have been responsible for killing hundreds of people if the operation worked perfectly as they'd planned. Imagine a vest going off at a busy London train or underground station at 8am in the morning, the carnage it would bring.

It would take days for his body to be found. That's if we didn't put through an anonymous call to the authorities once the one in charge was handled. Information was again left informing the authorities of what we'd discovered.

The target in Bradford, the man who put together the plans for the atrocity, lived with a couple of friends. I had to wait until the next morning when he left his house to go for a jog. Following him to a park, putting a bullet in him was easy. Sig Sauer in hand with suppressor attached. Double tap to the chest, walking towards him to see he was still alive as I met his eyes. He seemed to figure out who I was, ready to shout something at me. I put a bullet in his head to keep him quiet. It was making sure no-one witnessed it, and then hiding the body until cleaners could come deal with it that was the problem.

I called Jennifer immediately. "Anyone close?"

"Half an hour away at the earliest." I gave her the address and the situation. "I'll get onto them straight away."

"I'll do what I can. I'll need to return to London immediately. I can only hope it's reported as a possible hate crime or gangland shooting. What's the situation there?"

"He's definitely getting nervous. Three of them have gone quiet. If he can't get in touch with who you've just eliminated, he might run."

"Keep eyes on him. I'll take care of him tonight. He'll talk before I deal with him."

During my drive back south, Jennifer let me know the cleaners dealt with the issue without a problem, so that was a relief. I was tempted to call the leader but, with the other four now out of the way, I knew that would just look suspicious. The fact he hadn't called me suggested he was perhaps putting two and two together. He was the only one with brains in the operation. He'd deliberately chosen the four young men I'd eliminated for a reason. All had been willing to die for his cause without question.

Leaving the car in a side street, I returned home and changed. Jennifer arrived as I was lacing up my boots. She had a key and could come and go as she pleased, but she was usually polite enough to knock if I was home. It was a different situation this evening.

"You going to take him in for questioning first?"

"Depends on how cooperative he proves to be. Might have to make some threats to make him comply. He's a husband and a father. I'll make sure cooperates." I took her hand and squeezed it. "But I won't hurt anyone else but him. I promise."

"But he needs to be taken out," she said, "So do whatever is necessary to ensure that."

I waited until nightfall before I departed, kissing her softly on the lips before walking out the door. Back in the same car, I drove towards north London, passing by Finsbury Park and eventually stopping in Wood Green. Taking a chance, I called his phone, letting it ring out before going to the message service. I tried calling him twice more before I gave up.

Parking up in the street where his terraced house was located, I got out of the car and walked past his house. The lights were on and I assumed the family was home, at least. Returning to my car, I opened the window and watched for any sign of him. I tried his phone once more, surprised that he actually answered.

"What is it, Mo?" he hissed.

"You heard from Faisal?"

"Faisal is dead."

"What? How?"

"He's disappeared. No-one has heard nor seen him since Friday night. I went to his apartment today. There was no sign of him at all. The apartment was empty. Where have you been, Mo?"

"Hiding. I thought something was wrong when I couldn't get in contact with him. Then I tried Ibra and... Nothing... I've felt eyes watching me at times. I'm not sure if I'm paranoid or not." I made sure fear dripped from my voice. I wanted him to think I was terrified.

I heard him sigh. "I have heard no word from any of them. The authorities must have learned of our plans. I will need to recruit new holy warriors for the cause. They must learn what it is like to live in constant fear like our brothers and sisters in the homeland."

That's what I wanted to hear. The fact he was going to try again. In my mind, it justified what I had been doing, and what I was going to do next. "Are you at the mosque? I need guidance."

"No. I am at home with my wife and children. I will see you at prayers tomorrow, Mo. But it is best we keep our distance for the time being. Are you still willing to strike a blow against them?"

"Of course. If we cannot strike at the United States, then the people of the United Kingdom must pay a price for their continued presence in Iraq, Afghanistan and anywhere their presence must simply no longer be tolerated."

"Good. I will contact you at a later time."

"As-salaam alaikum."

"Wa-alaikum as-salaam."

I hung up. I watched and waited, my eyes never leaving the house. I could wait as long as was necessary. I moved when the lights went out, checking my pistol was in its holster, and that my balaclava was pulled tight over my head, only my dark eyes appearing through the slits. The door was easy to break, checking the rooms downstairs to see they were empty. The children were asleep. Entering his bedroom, he was fast asleep next to his wife.

Covering his mouth, he woke up immediately and started to struggle. I put a finger to my lips, gestured to his wife and made a gesture across my throat. He nodded in understanding. Showing him the pistol in my other hand, I indicated I'd shoot her then him if he made any noise. He nodded again silently. Removing my hand, he remained silent as I gestured for him to stand up.

He moved with the barrel in the back of his head. Down the stairs and out of the house, the street was deserted as I led him to the car. Opening the boot, I placed tape over his mouth then tied his hands behind his back before putting him in the boot. He only started to struggle once I'd shut it.

Driving across London with someone in your boot isn't the best of ideas, but I had a location where I could work on him. He wasn't the only one. He'd know others who discussed, who planned, who were capable of committing acts that would leave a country or a continent in shock. Pulling up outside a garage situated underneath a rail line, I backed the car in before closing the door, turning on the light.

Grabbing him out of the boot, I sat him down on a chair, tying him to it before I removed the tape across his mouth. He looked around, fear in his eyes. Grabbing another chair, I sat down in front of him as I removed the balaclava. His eyes widened for a moment before he sighed.

"We can do this the easy way, Habib, or we can do this the hard and painful way. What you must understand though, Habib, is that I will find out the information you have, even if I have to break your body, your spirit, your very soul. If you're willing to test how far I'm willing to go, that will be on you only. Do you wish to see an example of what I'm willing to do? The fact all your little soldiers have gone silent should prove to you what I'm capable of."

He swallowed and shook his head. "No," he whispered, "I believe you."

"Very good. However, we're all more than aware that those being tortured will tell the interrogator whatever they want to hear. We obviously don't want that." Moving towards a fridge, I took out a vial and grabbed a syringe from nearby. Placing it on the small tray next to his seat, I sat down in front of him. "Ever heard of truth serum?" He nodded, causing me to smile. "Most of its bullshit, of course. What you see in movies isn't true at all. But the organisation I work for has refined it over the years. When I inject you with this, it's not a case of you telling me the unfiltered truth, it's more a case of you can't lie. In fact, you will find yourself very agreeable if I ask you the right questions in the right manner. No matter what you think, you will eventually tell me what I want to know. Far better than hooking your balls to a car battery, right?"

"You won't stop all of us, Mo. Do whatever you want otherwise."

I tapped his cheek and smiled at him. I thought I saw him shudder as it would not have been a pleasant smile. "Ah, a little fight, Habib. Good. Very good. I like an enemy with backbone. Shall we begin?"

I have a feeling he thought that he'd survive, if he told me what I needed to know, in contact with Jennifer as I provided her with names and places, dates and meetings, hearing her confirm if I was being told the truth or not. He probably thought that I'd let him go if he cooperated. No doubt he knew his life in London and the UK was over, but he perhaps thought I'd hand him over to the authorities so he could live out the rest of his days in prison. Or, at worst, he'd end up somewhere like Guantanamo. Not sure if that was better or worse than death.

But, in the end, it was all about self-preservation. He was willing to sell out everyone if he thought it would save his neck. So I let him talk and talk and talk. With the drugs flowing through his system, and ending up in his brain, he was rather talkative and incredibly honest, answering any questions I had for him. He gave away so much information, the Director was going to be very pleased, and once we'd passed it to MI5 and Scotland Yard, Interpol, hell, even providing some of it to the Russians via certain back channels, they were going to be making arrests across the UK and Europe itself. Most of who he named were small fry, virtual nobodies, but there were one or two names that would definitely gain attention of the intelligence services across the globe. That was the whole point of the assignment. Stop the attack we knew was being planned, but also sweep up numerous other cells known to be operating.

He talked for a couple of hours before he'd exhausted his knowledge. I felt a knot of fear in my gut of just how connected this guy was. I honestly thought he'd led an isolated cell, perhaps in contact with a few other like-minded individuals around the UK. Jennifer was busy confirming everything. It was... It was fucking scary. A European wide wave of attacks was being planned. No country would have been spared. What we'd seen in Madrid, London, Paris, would have seemed small fry compared to the atrocities they were planning on.

I left him sitting there as I walked towards the garage door and the front of my car. "Fucking hell," I muttered, "Jen... What we've just uncovered... If any of this is true, it's the start of a front that could kill hundreds of thousands if we don't stop them."

"Forwarding everything through encrypted channels right now, Nick. UK, Americans, Interpol, French, Germans. Even the Russians."

"Okay. You know where I am?"

"Yes."

"Cleaners are ready?"

"They'll dispose of him. Set up to look like a gangland hit."

"Good. Five minutes."

By the time I returned to him, he'd figured out he wasn't walking out of the garage alive, busy whispering a prayer to himself. I let him finish as I attached the suppressor. Once he was done, he met my eyes and there was that defiance I had expected to see. I could give him a brief nod of respect before putting a bullet into his head.

Leaving the car behind, I put my jacket on, pistol back in its holster, suppressor in the small case alongside the extra clip I carried and the tools I needed for the job. I was already in an Uber by the time the cleaners would have appeared. Jennifer was waiting for me when I walked through my front door, greeting me with a soft kiss.

I made my report immediately before I had a shower, Jennifer joining me. I'd killed in battle before but what I'd done over the past few days felt significantly different. She didn't ask what I was thinking or feeling. To be honest, I didn't feel much at all. Not about those I'd taken down, and the information I'd taken from Habib... Well, quite frankly, the ends justified the means. We all knew other agencies were up to all sorts of shit. Guantanamo. Black sites. Rendition. And that was the tip of the iceberg. Neither side was operating with clean hands any longer. The gloves were off, and it was probably a good idea that most people had no idea just how dirty the war was getting. I knew my hands were only going to get dirtier the longer I operated. Would I end up selling my soul to ensure that everyone I loved remained safe?

It might almost be worth the price. Another reason why that it was better they thought I was dead. No way I could meet their eyes, aware of what I was doing.

Returning to the office the next morning, I kept an eye on the news. For the next week, the major news channels were reporting of mass arrests, not only across the UK, but across continental Europe. As I'd figured out, Habib was far more connected than I'd thought possible. I knew a lot of them would probably not see the inside of a jail cell, while a few would simply disappear, but at least we'd gained the information required.

At the end of the week, Jennifer arrived at my townhouse, insisting that she take me out. Honestly, that sounded like a fantastic idea, throwing on a casual shirt and trousers before heading out into the city. She did chuckle as I could barely relax as we ended up in Covent Garden, surrounding ourselves with tourists and locals, buying an overpriced burger before ending up in a Canadian themed sports bar, enjoying a couple of beers while watching ice hockey. Not a sport I'd watched before in my life. The violence was appealing though...

Walking along hand in hand later in the evening, it felt like our first real date since we'd arrived in the UK. In fact, our first real date ever. The weekend in Seattle had been a mostly physical thing, a lot of sex with some quiet moments in between. This night was different. Felt different.

Catching one of the last Underground trains back to Kensington, there was absolutely no chance Jennifer was going anywhere except back to my place that evening. "Nightcap?" I wondered as I kicked off my shoes.

"I'd love one. Whiskey?"

"Woman after my own heart."

With a glass in hand, we settled back on the couch, music playing in the background again, she snuggled into me. Wrapping an arm around her, she moved so I could at least kiss her. "You know, this should feel weird. Last Friday and weekend, I was off around the UK doing my job. Tonight, I'm cuddling you at home and I have no idea what I'm doing this weekend. I think that's what is going to take time to adjust to."

"I'm here if you need to talk, Nate. The one thing the Director is aware of is the psychological strains of this job at times. It's another part of my job."