Exit wound

M stands for ‘modification’ in Russian. We know that M3C has developed this missile, but very little information has been released about the improvements. We need to know if the malfunction rumours carry any weight. Get whatever you can; nothing is wasted. And good luck.

I started laughing to myself and Julian opened his eyes. ‘What?’

‘Kettle’s given me some homework.’ I handed him the note. If it was going to self-destruct in five seconds I didn’t want to be the one holding it.

‘Not such a bad idea. Having something to do – something legitimate, I mean – will help you blend in.’

He wasn’t wrong. The more I looked like I belonged, the better.

The Galaxy pulled up outside Terminal 3. It was less than a week since I’d been here with Red Ken and Dex. At least this time I wasn’t in golfing pink. It was back to Timberlands, jeans and shirt. I’d left all my cover golfing clothes and the cheap and cheerful Tesco’s funeral outfit – to down-gear me in the doing-well stakes – in a bin liner outside my local Oxfam.

I pulled my holdall from the boot, and the day-sack containing my Nikon, laptop and briefing notes.

Julian held out his hand.

It was the first time I’d ever shaken any of my bosses by the hand and meant it. They normally coerced me into this shit. But this time? I wanted to go.

‘Will you recognize him again?’

‘With my mates’ blood still wet on his shoes? He could have body doubles, plastic surgery or spent the last few days shoving Mars bars down his neck to become a fat fuck, but nothing will disguise his eyes, Jules. That’s what’ll tell me I’ve got him.’

I didn’t tell him that for me this wasn’t just about taking Altun’s picture and sharpening up his CV. But I didn’t think he’d be particularly surprised. I headed into the terminal.

I’d put on the jokey fucking-about act for Julian’s benefit because I didn’t want him to stand me down from the job. I wanted him to use me. I wanted him to think that I was being practical about the situation.

Truth was, there was a bit more to this than revenge. I needed to square away my guilt. I couldn’t help feeling that I should have done more for Red Ken and Dex. Maybe I could have tried harder to talk them out of it. Maybe I could have been closer to them on the airstrip. That way, I might have reacted quicker. I knew the two of them would have called me a dickhead for thinking it, but they would also have understood.

They would also have expected me to get payback, and I wouldn’t let them down.

The terminal was its normal over-packed nightmare. I dodged the trolleys and manic wheelie-case runners as late passengers ran for their gates.

I wasn’t going to stitch up Julian. Why would I do that to the only friend I now had? I allowed myself a rueful smile. I must be going soft. Friendship was an accolade I didn’t hand out easily. Especially when I’d only known someone a few weeks.

I’d do what he wanted because there was stuff there that he needed to know. But after that I’d kill as many of the fuckers as I could get my hands on. I knew that wasn’t going to save the world but it would make me – and, if they were still keeping an eye on things, Red Ken and Dex – feel a whole lot better.

45

We hit some turbulence as we crossed the Persian Gulf, some rough stuff that toppled the Iranian businessman in the seat next to me headlong into my lap and prompted the lads in the row behind us to grab their Korans and start asking the all-merciful one to give the pilot a helping hand.

I manhandled the Iranian back into his all-too-narrow economy-class seat and got busy with Kettle’s crib-sheets – as you do when you’re off to work not knowing anything about the subject.

I knew all too well that if the Revolutionary Guards really wanted to grill me on what I ought to know after five years as a defence journalist, I’d be seriously in the shit – unless they were prepared to let me ask the audience or, better still, phone a friend.

The Iranian nuclear issue had demonstrated just how keen they were to stand on their own two feet and trade punches with the big boys. The list of countries suspected of helping Tehran with its reactors, enrichment sites and isotope separation plants was a long one. There wasn’t much point in building a nuclear bomb if you didn’t have the means to deliver it and the mullahs had been hard at work on that front too.