Tested by Fire by David Costa (the little red hen read aloud TXT) 📗

he was sure Sir Hugh had picked up on it too when he smiled and winked at him.

‘I do think we’re close. We have them moving out of the Hilton in a hurry and obviously spooked. They exposed themselves and we can now confirm that the Real IRA and Islamic Jihad are working together. Most likely, led by Costello and Lyndsey. From the CCTV we have a full description of the driver of the BMW and its registration details. Thanks to the PSNI we’ve confirmation of Costello phoning Ireland, the conversation recorded, and the number of the burner phone he’s using. CCHQ are monitoring it with the hope of pinning down his location.’

‘Is there anything else you need?’ asked Brookfield.

‘Not now, Prime Minister. Can I ask, have you briefed your own protection detail or changed any of your plans?’

‘Yes and no. We have increased my Personal Protection by two and my plans for the Conference remain the same, on schedule.’

‘The Prime Minister will be attending some Party events in the city tonight then back here to work on his speech and more meetings with ministers. We don’t want the Press alerted by drastic changes to his security or itinerary,’ said Bryant.

‘Thank you, Martin,’ said Hugh Fraser, ‘I think we can let Jim get on with the job in hand. We must remember his team aren’t policemen but a specialist unit with a specialist task as set out by the Prime Minister and the Intelligence Committee. Their job is to find the terrorists and deal with them.’

‘Yes, thank you, Jim, for all that you and your team are doing, please keep me updated,’ said the Prime Minister.

‘Come and let me buy you a cup of coffee, Jim,’ said Sir Hugh putting his arm around Jim’s shoulder and guiding him to the door.

‘Yes, good night, Mr Broad, and thank you,’ said Bryant.

‘Good night, sir,’ said Broad before he left.

There it was again, the politician’s language of formality. You’re not one of us, you’re on your own. At least Broad knew who his real friends were and who he could trust the kind of friend who would follow him through the door of danger. The politicians he’d come into contact with always looked for a scapegoat if things went wrong.

When they got to the hotel lobby, they found a seat in the corner of the crowded room still full of delegates talking in full flow.

Instead of the coffee he’d suggested, Sir Hugh ordered two large malt whiskies and a jug of water. Now, as he looked over his glass at Broad, he smiled again.

‘I needed this, Jim. Any longer in that room with that jumped up one-trick pony, Bryant, and I would have shot him myself.’

Broad laughed. He knew Hugh Fraser hated the grey suit mob, as they called ministers and their lackeys, as much as he did. Bryant, because he had the Prime Minister’s ear, could be a tough-talking mandarin one of the boys when he wanted to, but talk was cheap – action on the ground sorts the real men from the boys. Bryant was the kind of civil servant who had perfected the art of smiling to your face while stabbing you in the back. He would have been comfortable in the company of the gang that surrounded Julius Caesar on the steps of the Senate all those years ago. The locations might be different, but the tactics were the same.

‘But, Jim, I want you know that no matter what we think of Bryant, he’s smart and because he has the ear of the PM, we need to think like a politician. We work in the background of life not in the full glare of the British and world news cycle. The first people know about us is when something has happened, usually when people are dead.’

More people were filling the spaces in the bar. The Conference and its fringe events were closing down for the day. The sound of voices filled the air and the two men found they could speak without being overheard.

‘I know what you mean, Hugh. But the politicians might change but as far as we’re concerned, their politics doesn’t. Look at what they’re now doing in Northern Ireland pandering to the Republicans and then getting the PSNI to hound old soldiers in their seventies trying to prosecute them for killings they were involved in during the Troubles when serving Queen and Country. The politicians did the same after Iraq; allowing ambulance chasing lawyers to lead spurious, made-up investigations on the behalf of the terrorists we were fighting. That’s what I fear now for SG9. Our people put their head on the block at the behest of these same politicians who are only too pleased to point the finger of blame when the shit hits the fan.’

Hugh took a long sip of his malt then leaned a little closer towards Jim.

‘I know, and I agree with what you’re saying. All our lives we’ve had to deal with these pen pushers. I’ve always stood by my people. I would never ask them to do something I wouldn’t do myself. I don’t want you and the team to have any worries. If push comes to shove, I have enough information on the skeletons in their cupboards to bring down the lot of them. In the meantime, let’s get on with the job. I know your team have been briefed and trained to take these bastards out. But, if there is a chance to take Lyndsey alive, the information she has on the Islamic network would be more useful without a bullet in it.’

Broad understood what his boss was saying. It would give him the ace up his sleeve he needed to continue playing his game with the politicians.

‘We will do our best. Now, can we get out of here and get some food, I’m starving, somewhere