Defender(56)

"All these crazy fundamentalist bastards want to get their hands on anything they can. And like I said, there are plenty of people only too happy to help them. Me? I simply facilitate the exchange."

Alex Morgan slumped against the]eep, scarcely able to support himself.

Lundt kept talking, moving closer and closer.

"Here, in this shithole, it's all about rocks. Titanium. Diamonds. The chance to take control of billions of pounds a year from a struggling country with no leadership is a serious motivator. Some people will do anything to get their hands on money like that: corporations, governments."

"There are people out there, women and children, getting slaughtered by weapons you've supplied," Morgan hissed. "They're getting butchered just so poor old Victor Lundt can line his pockets because he's got a chip on his shoulder about his service pension. Get out there and take a look at your legacy!"

"Don't waste the 'Officer and a Gentleman' lecture on me, sonny. I've heard it before." Lundt was close now, just a couple of feet away. Circling. "People die anyway. If it wasn't me getting the guns, someone else would. So why shouldn't I get myself a nest egg? But you wouldn't see it that way."

"You're finished," Morgan said, fighting to stay alert. He was in real pain, but still lucid enough not to blow his cover. "I should have known better. I didn't believe that a man with your background would serve a colleague up to these bastards, the way that you delivered Collins to them. How wrong I was." He paused to catch his breath. "But it's over."

Lundt made his move, sidestepping swiftly past Morgan, snatching the moneybag with the diamonds, and the AKM from the hood of the jeep. Morgan made a grab for him but stumbled awkwardly back against the vehicle.

"You should thank me, Morgan," said Lundt. "I was the one who got these savage bastards to put your mate out of his bloody misery. Watched 'em cut his throat and feed him to the dogs. But you won't be around long enough to tell anybody."

With that, Lundt exploded: holding the AKM by the barrel, he swung it like a baseball bat in a vicious lateral strike straight for Morgan's flank. The heavy wooden butt smashed into Morgan, battering his ribs.

At that moment, the deafening roar of an explosion crashed upon them. The front wall of the building vapourised and they were enveloped in a cloud of thick, grey dust. With the support structure ripped away, bricks, beams and plaster fell upon them both. Morgan bore the brunt of the collapse and was smothered by debris. Lundt kicked his way out, crawling over Morgan and clambering through the mess, up into the Jeep.

"Lie there and die like a good boy, Morgan," Lundt coughed, as the Jeep sprang to life. "Pray that you do before the rebels find you. I hear they're on the lookout for some fresh white meat to celebrate tonight."

Lundt wrenched at the gearshift and reversed fast out into the alleyway, well clear of the fighting.

Alex Morgan pulled himself from the wreckage just in time to see the vehicle disappear from view.

Then he slipped headlong into infinite blackness.





PART THREE





TOO MANY LOSE ENDS





CHAPTER 34





Gabarone, Botswana Seven days after the Coup





From: Sagittarius To: Capricorn

"What a bloody fiasco!" the instant message began on the screen.

Victor Lundt, 'Capricorn', could almost see the man at the other end of their exchange, 'Sagittarius', frothing at the mouth while hammering the keys. Pompous git, Lundt thought. He's in London abusing me, while I'm buried like a tick out here in the arsehole of the world.

"How could this have fallen apart so, so... categorically?" Sagittarius continued. "You've had every means at your disposal. Millions of pounds wasted and we're no closer to securing the mining concessions than we were twelve months ago. Then there's your London operation - another debacle.'"

My operation? Now Lundt was angry. How typical of the man to deflect responsibility.

"Need I remind you," Lundt typed, "that you didn't get the information to me until very late in the game, indeed."

"It was supposed to be a surgical strike, not a bloodbath, and despite all your chaos, the man survived!"

Victor Lundt's hands were stretching and clenching, forming fists above the filthy keyboard as he collected his thoughts. There was no appeasing his frustration. He was enraged by the mess he knew he would have to clean up if he wanted to stay in the big game. He hated to admit it, especially to himself, but he needed Sagittarius; needed his connections and money. But that didn't mean that he had to lick the bastard's boots. Clumsily, and with two fingers, Lundt thumped out his response.

"All the time and effort that's been spent distancing you from me would have been better spent just dealing direct like this and accepting the risk. Those two pancakes you supposedly hand-picked as your go-betweens were less than fucking useless right from the start. I risked exposure a hundred fucking times to sort out the things that they should've had sorted before it got anywhere near me. And when I'm exposed, you're exposed. Remember that."