Read Execution (A Harry Tate Thriller) for Free Online

considered by detractors to be a sign of the new tide of ‘talent’ being flushed through the Service as the reliance on the old Oxbridge source of recruiting was losing ground. She didn’t believe in making friends and was known to have her eye on one of the top jobs in the Service. Her uncompromising demeanour showed her intentions for all to see, and she didn’t care who knew it. ‘He had to be kept safe while he recovered. We took the decision to keep it strictly in-section only.’ She stared coolly at Ballatyne, daring him to challenge her.
    ‘Safe from what?’ Fitzgerald’s voice was calm, almost bored, but there was no mistaking the look in his eye; given the high-profile nature of the dead man and the potential repercussions, he too, wanted answers.
    Deane shifted in her seat. ‘Tobinskiy was caught up in a shooting in a Brighton nightclub a week ago. According to witnesses the shooter walked straight up to him and shouted something in an east-European language before opening fire. It wasn’t the first time there had been trouble with Lithuanians or Albanians in the local drugs trade, so it was written up by the police as another gang-related hit.’
    ‘What happened to the shooter?’
    ‘He got away. The injured man was taken to the Royal Sussex. He had no ID on him, but one of my officers heard about it and recognised him. We got him out of there immediately.’
    ‘And hid him among wounded military personnel?’ Fitzgerald looked puzzled, although whether it was at Tobinskiy’s final refuge or what an officer of MI6 was doing in the Royal Sussex Hospital at the time wasn’t clear. ‘Was that wise?’
    Deane flushed. ‘It seemed a good idea at the time and I stand by it.’
    ‘He wasn’t that well concealed, was he?’ commented a man with a bushy head of hair. His name was Andrews and headed up the internal security section. ‘Somebody found him. If you’d let us know, we could have looked after him properly.’
    ‘There wasn’t time. We had one extra man on duty. Placing too much security on that unit would have attracted media attention. They already keep a watch to see who goes in there, hoping for some Special Forces personnel to put under the microscope. The duty guard must have wandered off.’ She looked at Ballatyne. ‘In any case, there has already been a precedent for stowing non-military patients in that unit by members of this Service. Isn’t that right?’
    All eyes swivelled like spectators at a tennis match towards this new focus of attention, and Ballatyne silently cursed the woman to hell and back for her indiscretion. But it was too late now; in defending herself, she had effectively swung the spotlight his way.
    ‘You had better explain,’ said Fitzgerald with a sigh, flicking a finger towards the red light on the digital unit in the ceiling. ‘For the record.’
    Ballatyne did so with reluctance. Words uttered here without great care could sometimes prove fatal for a career, often long after the event. ‘It’s correct that another patient in the unit was a former Six officer named Clare Jardine. She was shot and wounded during an operation against the organisation known as the Protectory. The man responsible was a Bosnian named Milan Zubac, one of their enforcers. As you may recall, they were preying on deserters from the army, looking for information to sell to the highest bidder, before killing off the people concerned.’
    ‘Yes, we know who they were,’ said Deane aggressively. ‘But if memory serves me well, hadn’t Jardine already been dismissed from the Service after murdering one of our own officers?’ She frowned dramatically at the ceiling. ‘Let me see . . . Sir Anthony Bellingham, wasn’t it? Stabbed just along the embankment from here, if memory serves me right. How the hell she wasn’t locked up in a maximum security cell for a hundred years is beyond me.’
    The silence in the room told its own tale, and Ballatyne felt his gut sink. They all