Ultimate Weapon (5 page)

Laura was wearing a crisp white blouse, through which he could clearly see the outline of a black bra that held her small yet rounded breasts in place. Her tan leather skirt revealed a pair of legs that were perfectly toned, and the smell of the food mixed with her musty perfume to create a scent that was delicate, feminine yet strong all at the same time.

‘What’s a smart guy like you doing in the Regiment?’

‘Who says I’m smart?’

Laura took a sip of her wine. ‘I took a good look at your CV before choosing you for this mission,’ she said. ‘A degree from Cambridge. Not many Regiment guys have one of those.’

‘More than there used to be.’

Laura nodded. ‘The world is changing. The battles we’re fighting now are more about brains than brawn. The old Regiment guys don’t really understand that.’

Jed laughed. ‘I remember one of the old guys explaining their SOP to me.’

‘And …’

‘Standard operating procedure for this Regiment, boy: Bang, bang, then run like fuck.’

‘Maximum speed and maximum aggression, that was always the old motto,’ said Laura. ‘Now maximum intelligence has been added to the list. The only trouble is, some of the older hands haven’t quite caught up with what century we’re living in.’

‘And that’s why you wanted me to go into Iraq?’

Laura nodded. ‘We need people who can recognise what they’re looking at.’

Jed served himself another helping of the seafood pasta: the dish was a mixture of fresh prawns, squid and clams, drenched in oil, garlic and basil, and made a change from the sausages, chips and beans that made up a typical menu in the mess. He could eat his way through her whole larder right now. ‘I
didn’t
recognise it, though.’

‘You did enough.’

Jed shook his head. ‘I could feel it during that meeting. Everyone was pissed off with me for not getting closer to that lab.’

‘We’re under a lot of pressure,’ said Laura. ‘I’ve been at the Firm for thirteen years now, ever since I got out of university. I’ve never known anything like it. The place is buzzing, but it’s also getting a bit weird. We have
to come up with the goods on Iraq, no matter what. And it doesn’t matter how we get them.’

‘Or else that dickhead Muir bites your arse.’

Laura laughed. ‘You saw the bugger in a good mood. You should catch him on an off day.’

‘So what did I see in there?’ said Jed, looking straight into Laura’s eyes.

She glanced towards the window. ‘We’re still waiting for a full analysis –’

‘But you’ve got an idea,’ interrupted Jed.

‘There are theories all over the place about what’s happening in Iraq,’ said Laura. ‘It’s impossible to keep track of them all.’

‘Try,’ said Jed firmly. ‘If I get confused, we’ll draw a diagram.’

She leant closer to him, and he could feel her hand brushing against the inside of his jeans. ‘I like you, Jed,’ she whispered, moving on to his lap. Before he realised what was happening, he was kissing her. Her mouth was full, and her lips hard, like rubber. He could taste the pasta on her breath, and the seafood on her tongue. The kiss tasted salty and acid, yet supple and exciting all the same. For a brief moment, Jed hesitated, wondering if he was doing the right thing: he’d seen the kind of trouble some men had got into by sleeping with their colleagues, and although he and Sarah might be going through one of their breaks, she was still just about his girlfriend. But the doubts drained out of him as he could feel Laura’s hot breath against the skin of his chest, and feel her hands roaming down the muscles on his back. I’ve never been
able to think straight with a woman in my arms, he reminded himself.
No point trying to learn now
.

He wrapped his arms tight around her back squeezing her close to him. They were still sitting on the chair, but it was rocking backwards, and in seconds they had fallen down on to the carpet, both of them laughing. Jed was lying on top of her, his lips running down the side of her body. Her skin was smooth, with just a pale tan, and her muscles were toned and hard. He pushed her bra up over her neck, running his tongue around her nipples, then slipped his hand down between her legs. She groaned softly, a small, throaty noise somewhere between a cough and a sigh. ‘Keep going,’ she muttered. ‘Keep going.’

Jed didn’t need any encouragement; he guessed she was trying to avoid answering his question, but that could wait. Her hands were already reaching up for the buckle on his belt. Her legs parted, wrapping themselves up around his back, and she pushed herself upwards towards him. ‘Take me,’ she said. ‘Take me right now.’

Twenty minutes later, she lay sweaty and calm in his arms, her blonde hair draped across his chest, silent and exhausted. Jed could feel the carpet against the skin on his back. There was a graze down his left ribcage where she had scratched him while they were making love. Beats another evening in the mess, he thought to himself.
And it beats sending text messages to Sarah that she never replies to
.

‘I’d better go,’ said Jed, looking around for where she had tossed his clothes.

‘Stay,’ said Laura.

Jed paused. He hadn’t taken her for the romantic type. It was hard to imagine she wanted him cluttering up the bathroom in the morning. ‘It’s OK,’ he repeated. ‘I’ve got a place at the barracks. I can kip there.’

‘Stay,’ she repeated.

‘I’m not on leave.’

‘Stay,’ said Laura, a firmer tone to her voice this time. ‘I might want to fuck you again.’

He looked across at her and smiled. ‘So answer my question,’ he said. ‘What the hell was I taking pictures of in Baghdad?’

‘I already told you,’ said Laura, her tone suddenly hardening. ‘You’ll find out later.’

Laura looked straight through him as Jed stepped into the room. She was still wearing the same clothes he had seen her put on that morning – black skirt, white blouse, a string of pearls, two diamond earrings, and black lace underwear he could still feel the taste of in his mouth – but her expression had changed completely. From flirty and fun, she had become stern and businesslike: her face, he was starting to realise, was a mask she could change as easily as other women changed their perfume.

‘Not this bed-wetter again,’ snapped Muir. ‘Hasn’t the Regiment got any decent blokes in it? I thought they were meant to be tough.’

‘They are,’ said Wragg sharply.

‘Well, we haven’t got the shit to put in our next dossier, have we?’ snarled Muir. ‘And that’s because the
bloody pansy boys haven’t been able to go in and get it yet.’

Jed took a deep breath and composed himself. The call had come through on his mobile an hour ago from Laura. He was needed back at the Firm. When he’d asked what it was about, she’d clammed right up. Just get in a cab, she’d told him. Be here in an hour.

One of these days, mate, thought Jed, glancing fiercely at Muir,
I’ll show you some real violence to put in your dodgy dossiers
.

He looked around the room. Wragg was sitting next to Laura, with Mike Weston on his other side. Next to him sat the silent American, his mouth still shut, but with his Blackberry switched on. There was no sign of Miles Frith. At home with his mum, perhaps, wondered Jed. They were all looking straight towards him.

‘We’ve analysed the information you brought back from Iraq,’ said Weston. ‘And it was important. Very important.’ He paused, scratching a finger through his grey beard. ‘But we need more data to be sure of what exactly the Iraqis are doing in there.’

Wragg looked at Jed. ‘We need a small group of men to go inside and find out what’s happening in those labs.’

Jed shrugged. ‘That’s what the Regiment is there for,’ he said flatly. ‘Tell them what you want, and they’ll pick the men for the mission.’ He smiled thinly. ‘We’re all on the payroll.’

‘There’s a twist,’ said Laura.

‘It’s got to be off the fucking books,’ snapped Muir.

‘Off the books?’

‘That’s right, laddie,’ said Muir. ‘We’ve got a vote in Parliament on whether to go to war with Iraq in less than a month’s time. We need to know what’s in the lab before then. And we need to make sure that no one could possibly think the British government is taking a peek.’ A sour chuckle started in his throat. ‘After all, people might think we’d already decided to go to war with Iraq and were just looking around for an excuse.’

Jed could see Wragg casting a distasteful look at Muir. The golden rule of the Firm – that you never said what you really meant – had just been broken.
There would be payback for that one day
.

‘We need you to lead a group of four men to go into that lab,’ said Laura. ‘You’ll have full backup and support from the Regiment. But officially you’ll be on leave, freelancing. Anything goes wrong, and we won’t be able to help you.’

Jed looked at her closely. Maybe that’s why she fucked me last night.
Just so I’d know what it felt like when she did it again the next day
.

‘If I’m freelancing, then I guess I have some choice in the matter,’ said Jed. ‘I can decide whether I take the mission or not.’

‘Christ, we don’t need any of this barrack-room shop-steward bollocks,’ snapped Muir. ‘You’ll be showing us your union card soon.’

‘I thought you were a member of the Labour Party,’ said Jed. ‘Or are they not interested in the workers any more?’

Muir doodled another pair of breasts on his notepad, but remained silent.

‘Do you have a problem with the mission?’ said Wragg.

‘I’m a soldier,’ said Jed. ‘I signed up to fight for my country, and I don’t mind laying down my life for it, although I’d rather not if I can help it. But I’m not the Whips Office of the sodding Labour Party. If they’ve got problems justifying this war to their backbenchers, that’s their problem.’

A silence fell over the room. The air was cold with anger. Jed could feel the raw fury in the five pairs of eyes trained upon him. They were shocked but also contemptuous. Well, it’s your own fault, he thought. You wanted to recruit smarter guys into the Regiment.
No point in being surprised if they turn out to be able to think for themselves
.

‘Obviously it’s up to you whether you take the mission or not,’ said Wragg coldly. ‘Because it’s off the books, we can’t force you. Still, if you choose not to, I’ll have no choice but to recommend you be RTU’d.’

There was no need for him to spell out the acronym. Jed knew what it meant. RTU stood for ‘returned to unit’: it meant being sent back to the unit you’d left to join the SAS. Within the Regiment, there was no more punishing disgrace. It stripped you of every last shred of dignity and self-respect. The verdict it delivered on your abilities could be summed up in four brutal, unforgiving words.
You weren’t good enough
.

‘Maybe I couldn’t give a toss,’ snapped Jed.

Mike Weston looked at him. ‘I hear what you saying,’ he said softly. ‘But whatever you might think of the way this war is being presented, what’s going on in that lab is important.’

‘Then tell me what it is.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘You go in there, and tell
me
what it is.’

Jed slammed his fist on the table. ‘And how the hell can I look for it when you won’t even tell me what the fuck it is.’

‘You don’t need to know,’ said Muir, glaring straight at him. ‘That kind of information is above your pay grade.’

‘If you don’t trust the men on the ground, then the whole operation is fucked from day one,’ said Jed, glaring back.

‘There’s only one person who’s fucked in this room, laddie,’ said Muir. ‘And it’s the bloody pansy boy with the beard.’

Jed remained silent. They couldn’t make him go, he knew that. But they could humiliate him if he didn’t. Maybe Weston was right. Maybe there really was something important inside that lab.
But they wouldn’t know unless somebody went and took a look.

‘The mission will be ready to start in three days, Jed,’ said Laura. ‘I’ve already talked to Hereford, and your leave is extended until then. I’ll expect to see you there in sixty-four hours. If you’re not there, well, that’s your choice.’

Jed stood up, nodded at Wragg and walked towards the door. The meeting room was on the first floor, and
he walked quickly down the single flight of stairs. He stepped from the building and straight out into the south London scuzz of Vauxhall. It was a miserable morning. Rain was beating down on the streets, and a cold wind was blowing in off the Thames. Hell, I might as well be in Iraq, he reflected bitterly.
At least I could work on my tan
.

He looked at the headline screaming from the
Standard
billboards: labour rebels stand firm over Iraq. Jesus, muttered Jed. It’s tearing the country apart.
Maybe the sooner we get on with the shooting the better. Get it finished and move on
.

He walked over the bridge, then turned right and started heading along the Embankment. His mind was buzzing. He knew it had been dicey questioning whether he should take the mission. Still, it was his choice. Once you went off the books, the risks quadrupled. You couldn’t call on any backup. You couldn’t expect any help if you were in a jam.
And if anything went wrong you’d be thrown out like yesterday’s garbage
.

He fished out his Motorola V20 from his pocket, and pressed Sarah’s number.