Retribution - Michael Bates (the mitten read aloud .TXT) 📗

Prologue

Standing in the operations room of the SIS building staring at the large screen on the back wall, Rebecca is watching a live video feed coming from a satellite orbiting 200 miles above the earth. Although deep in thought, she can feel all eyes are on her as the operations team waits for her instructions.
As if in a daze, she hears a voice in the background. “Ma’am, we’re waiting,”
This is her first operation since being newly promoted to head of the Secret Intelligence Service, and, as she is the first woman to head the department, everyone is watching her very closely, waiting for her to make the biggest cock up ever.
Rebecca quickly comes to her senses, and looks around to see a mixture of faces looking at her in anticipation. “Sorry, someone bring me up to speed. What are we looking at here? she says.
A short bald headed man sitting in front of her swivels around in his chair. “Well, we have an agent on the ground who is about to meet with the suspects and attempt to make a purchase.”
“And you are?” she says.
“Em, I’m Baker Ma’am.”
“Okay, Baker, what are we purchasing? And, exactly where in Iran is this feed coming from?”
“We’re asking for a shipment of 500 AK 47’s, and the feed is coming from a ship yard in Bandar-e- Abbas, in the Strait of Hormuz.
“Yes, I know where Bandar-e-Abbas is thank you Baker.”
“Of course, sorry Ma’am.”
“What cover is our agent using?”
“He’s acting as a go between for the Taliban in Afghanistan.”
“Okay, I take it we only have this satellite feed for a short time?”
“About another twenty minutes Ma’am.”
“Right, get a hold of the CIA office over there; I want a predator spy drone in the air. Once this meeting is over, I want the suspects tailed; I want to know where these people are working from. Once we know, get our agent to start surveillance on the location. I want pictures of everyone going in and out of that location, any questions?”
“No Ma’am.”
“Good, I want constant updates on my desk. Okay people we have an agent out there who is relying on us, so let’s stay sharp.”
She turns and heads for the door, the light in the corridor hurts her eyes as they start to adjust from the relative darkness of the operations room. She was just about to enter the lift when she hears a voice from behind.
“Rebecca, hold up.”
She holds the door open, “Michael what are you doing here?”
“I need to have a word if I may.”
“Sure, I’m just going up to my office now.”
“Congratulations on your promotion b y the way” As the doors close, he looks her up and down. “My! You certainly look the part Rebecca, in that nice black suit, what is it, Armani?”
“Actually it’s Versace, and thanks. But I’m sure the head of the Security Service isn’t here to compliment me on my dress sense.”
Then the doors to the lift open and they head into her office.
“Please take a seat. Would you like a drink?”
He is looking out of the window. “Yes, I’ll have a neat scotch please. Well, you definitely have a better view than I have.”
“So what can I do for you?” she asks.
He sits down and crosses his legs as Rebecca places the glass on the desk in front of him. “Well, more of a social call really. As you are new to the job, I thought I would help you get off to a good start, beginning with the unique partnership our two services have always had in the past.”
She leans back in her chair. “Oh, really, and what partnership would that be?”
He uncrosses his legs and leans forward to pick up his drink. “Well it’s quite simple really, you scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours.” He leans back in his chair and takes a sip from his glass.
Smug bastard, she thinks. “Oh, I see.” She says with a smirk on her face. “So exactly how would I do that?”
“Well, if say for instance you happen to have an operation running nationally, all I ask is you keep me in the loop, and give me regular updates. That sort of thing, you know how it works.”
She leans forward onto her desk and begins fiddling with a pencil. “Well Michael to be quite honest we are not called the Secret Intelligence Service for nothing. I mean, what part of Secret don’t you understand?”
He drops his smug look, leans forward, and places his glass on the desk. “Now look Rebecca, this job is hard enough, the fact that you’re a woman is going to make that even harder. So, if I was you I wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
Rebecca stands up and walks over to the window. “Now you listen to me, don’t let the fact I’m a woman concern you, or the fact I am new to the job.” She turns and faces him. “Michael, it’s no secret you were expecting to get this job, but someone higher up than you and I obviously thought I was more qualified. I, like you, worked my way up through the ranks, so please don’t come into my office spouting about how you think things should run between our two services okay.”
He stands up and begins buttoning his jacket. “Fine Rebecca, if that’s how you want to play it. But don’t come running to me when you fuck up and the ministers up top want your head on a platter.”
“Don’t worry Michael I won’t, and please, try not to slam the door on your way out.”
He straitens his jacket, turns and storms out of the room.
Just then, the phone rings. “Hello.” said Rebecca.
“Hello Ma’am, this is security at the front desk. I'm sorry to disturb you, but I have a Mr Jack Spader here, he doesn't have an appointment, but says he has some information you will be really interested in.”
“Then you better put him on the phone.”
"Hello Ma’am, you don't know me, but I have some important information with reference to your up and coming press conference."

"In what way?" she asks .
"Well, let me just say, it could be life threatening."
“In my business it usually is Mr Spader.”
“Yes I know, but in this case the life I’m talking about is yours.”
"In that case you better come up.”


CHAPTER ONE
Week One

The service entrance at the rear of the hospital was quiet; I began searching through some laundry bags left in a trolley near the loading bay. After going through a couple of bags, I found what I was looking for. A white coat, that at least looked as if it was clean. I stuffed my Glock 9mm pistol down the back of my trousers, put on the coat and headed for the service lift, once inside I pushed the button for the fourth floor. Having visited two days earlier and acting as the marks relative, I'd asked at the desk for his location. Luckily for me, he was in a private room, however, he did have one guard sat outside the door. The lift stopped and the door slid open, for a moment the bright light coming from the busy ward in front blinded me

Once out of the lift I stood still for a moment allowing my eyes to adjust and got a big wiff of what I believed to be antiseptic rushing through my nostrils. Then I began looking around in search of a room with a guard sat outside. Moving slowly through the ward I tried not to look suspicious, although, it was so busy that no one was interested in who I was, or what I was doing. Finally, I turned a corner and through the glass of a swinging door, I could see the guard. He wasn't in uniform, but it didn't take much to realise what he was and what he was doing. I was in luck he had a paper cup that he was still drinking from, I stepped through the swinging door, at the same time removing a syringe from my trouser pocket containing a tasteless fast acting laxative. As I neared the guard, he immediately placed his cup on the table next to his chair and stood up with his hand tucked inside his jacket. Wearing a dark blue suit and sporting a dark black goatee beard, he gave me a thousand yard stare. I just looked at him thinking, everyone seems to have a goatee nowadays, it must be in fashion; maybe I should try it.

"Excuse me doctor, who are you? This is not your patient, so you can’t enter this room."

I moved closer placing myself between him and the cup, I pretended to bump into the table and while steadying the cup I began slipping the laxative in. "Oh, sorry I'm just a locum and this is my first day. I'm trying to acquaint myself with the ward." Leaning forward I whispered into his ear. "This is a big chance for me; I don't want to screw it up by getting lost on my first call, if you know what I mean?"

He took his hand out from under his jacket and smiled. "I understand, but I'm afraid you can't hang around here."

"No problem, I won't bother you again, I promise."

I carried on down the corridor pass the guard and through another set of swinging doors. I noticed there was a toilet on the other side of the doors, and figured if I made my way back round to the first set of doors I would be able to watch the guard going to the toilet once the laxative set in. This would give me just enough time to enter the room, do the job, and get out.

It would only take around thirty seconds for the laxative to begin to take effect, so I didn't waste any time making my way back round to the first set of doors. Peaking around the corner, it wasn't long before I saw the guard lean forward in his chair holding his stomach, by the grimace on his face I could see he was in pain. He stood up and still clutching his stomach, dashed for the swinging doors, once I saw him enter the toilet I made my move.

Opening the door to the room, I could see the unconscious body of a man in his seventies laid on the bed with tubes coming from his arms and nose. I stood for a moment staring at the wrinkled faced, grey haired man thinking. He looks no more harmful than my own grandfather. However, this old man was about to turn Queens evidence and send a lot of people down. I quickly snapped out of it and took out another syringe containing potassium chloride, being a severe muscle relaxant it would quickly begin to shut down his vital organs, until he had heart failure. After removing the green cap from the intravenous drip, I placed the end of syringe into the