Читать книгу Dirty Little Secret - Jon Stock - Страница 18

Fielding had been sleeping fitfully when the phone rang. It wasn’t his mobile, but the secure landline that linked his flat in Dolphin Square with COBRA, the home numbers of key colleagues of the Joint Intelligence Committee, and 10 Downing Street. The ring tone had an urgency that made him get out of bed and walk quickly across the living room to answer the phone.

‘Marcus, I need to know what’s going on with Salim Dhar.’

It was the Prime Minister.

‘I’m not quite sure what you mean by “going on”.’

‘This is not the time for bloody semantics. The Americans have intercepted a call from Dhar to Fort Monckton in Gosport.’

Fielding’s brain began to process the PM’s words, assessing the possibilities and implications. It wasn’t in his nature to panic – that was one of the reasons he had risen to become Chief – but the multiple scenarios that were spooling through his mind made him pass the receiver from one hand to the other.

‘Daniel Marchant is currently recovering at the Fort,’ he said calmly, starting with what he knew. But he couldn’t help wondering why he was hearing about the intercept from the PM, and not from GCHQ or another intelligence colleague. It had clearly been discussed already, and he had been excluded. This wasn’t an operational call, it was political. ‘Where was Dhar ringing from?’

‘According to the Americans, Vauxhall Cross. Your headquarters.’

Fielding let out a thin, dry laugh. He knew it was impossible for Dhar to be in Legoland. In the course of a life spent in espionage, he had witnessed far more cock-ups than conspiracies. But if that was what the Americans believed, he had a problem.

‘And how do they know this?’

‘The NSA’s traced the number, and it’s presenting as MI6’s main switchboard.’

‘With respect, if I were to ring you from this line and the NSA managed to intercept and trace it, which is unlikely, the number would show as MI6’s switchboard. And Dhar’s definitely not here.’

Fielding couldn’t resist a quick glance around his flat: Oleg, his Lucas terrier, asleep in his basket in the corner; a flute resting against a sheet of Handel on a music stand in front of the fireplace; a proof copy of the new biography of Lawrence of Arabia open on the Indian coffee table.

‘Marcus, the Americans are convinced we’re holding Dhar. The President is calling me in five minutes. I need to give him my word that we’re not.’

‘We’re not. Of course we’re bloody not.’

‘So why the hell’s he ringing Daniel Marchant from a secure MI6 landline?’

‘I have no idea. He might not have been. The last time the NSA supposedly intercepted a call from Dhar, it was a set-up and six US Marines died.’

‘They want access to Vauxhall Cross, to search the building floor by floor, room by room. And they want us to arrest Daniel Marchant.’

‘I would advise against that. Dhar may call him again, which would be more useful to us.’

Fielding might be too late to save Marchant, but the Americans would be allowed into Legoland over his dead body. Unfortunately, he suspected he was already dead. Denton would have his job by morning.

‘What are Fort Monckton’s orders?’

‘To keep Marchant on site. Don’t worry, he’s being closely guarded.’

‘I hope he is – for all our sakes.’

Fielding didn’t have time to feel threatened. ‘What did Dhar say to him?’

‘Marchant asked who was speaking, and Dhar said, “Your pilot.” That’s it. As if we needed to remind the Americans of MI6’s role in the Fairford attack. Marchant should have dealt with Dhar when he had a chance.’

In other words, Fielding thought, ignoring the PM, Dhar’s message wasn’t as important as the fact of the call itself. He was telling Marchant where he was. And it looked as if he was still in Britain, which meant that something must have gone catastrophically wrong with his escape plan.

There were numerous MI6 facilities across the country, all of which had secure landlines that were routed through the main switchboard. Fielding hadn’t been entirely straight with the PM: although the numbers would show up as MI6, each one had its own unique signature that could be identified by a private-key-encrypted handset. He could only assume that Marchant had seen at once where Dhar was calling from, and had hung up.

‘Tell the President that Marchant’s going nowhere, and we haven’t got Dhar.’

‘So where the hell is he?’

‘I don’t know.’ Only one person knew, and that was Daniel Marchant. Fielding would call him now, try to warn him, but he feared it was already too late. ‘It’s important we don’t jump to hasty conclusions, given Dhar’s history of phone calls,’ he continued. ‘You know it won’t look good, the Americans going into Legoland?’

‘The truth is, Marcus, I’m not sure I can stop them.’