The Redaction Chronicles Collection

Chapter 17

“So, the agents, what do we do next?” asked Barton.

“There"s only one thing you can do!” The voice when it came caused them to startle. Seated at the far end of the table was Masterman, who so far, hadn"t been a contributor to the discussion. His voice was deep and filled with a military style authority. It was a voice that resolved disputes.

The four intelligence bureaucrats turned to their colleague, but it was only the Chief who spoke. “Go on Stephen, you have a suggestion.”

Masterman looked at them. “Thank you, Sir Richard. It seems to me that obviously we can"t go cap-in-hand to the Americans and make it known that we have stumbled, albeit inadvertently, onto one of their operations. It would compromise our successful double agent network. Correct?”

“Absolutely,” said Barton.

“We can"t pull them out of the game because that would send a warning signal to Russian counter-intelligence, I mean all those agents mysteriously disappearing at the same time. The same for putting a security cordon around them at close quarters. It"s too invasive, too easy for the Russians to spot even the most discreet of bodyguards and far too risky. Besides, these extra agents could be a blessing in disguise.”

“In what way?” asked the Chief.

“Because it would make it easier for a good tracker to pick up the scent. These killers have to come out of hiding at some point, who knows, maybe we"ll get lucky and they"ll make a mistake whilst they are planning to hit one of the genuine KGB agents.”

“Ah… and if the killers target the legitimate agents…” said Harper.

Masterman nodded. “Exactly, no matter how distasteful it is I"m sure we"d rather have proper iron-toothed Russian agents being eliminated than our own network. We alert them or give them security of any kind, the chances are they"re blown. We move them – they are definitely blown, which leaves us with only one feasible outcome.”

“Which is?” enquired Harper.

“We keep them in place and tell them nothing,” said Masterman.

It was Harper this time who expressed shock, while Porter sat with his hands clasped tightly together, his brow furrowed in concentration in case he misunderstood what was being proposed.

“You can"t mean it. Leave them to this pack of wolf killers?,” replied Barton.

“Yes, I"m afraid I do, especially if you want the network to remain intact and the deception operation to continue. If our counter-terror operation is successful, maybe we can get in there and turn these legitimate Russian agents, or at least have them rolled up and arrested,” said Masterman.

Once again Barton was at his bullish best. “Well, you"re the Head of Redaction, Masterman, this is your bailiwick… what do you have in mind?”

Masterman knew exactly what he wanted. “A small team to track, identify, and eliminate these mercenaries. We hit them before they hit our agents. Hopefully,” he suggested.

“You"re talking about a counter-terrorist operation, to eliminate these killers? Lure them in and kill them. Bit risky for our agents, isn"t it?” said Harper.

“The agents are the bait, yes. And we prefer the term "Redaction" for what we do,” replied Masterman.

“Hmm… I bet you do,” said Harper. Everyone knew that Redaction had a reputation for the heavy work and for carrying out the rough stuff. It wasn"t known as the "Thug Squad" for nothing. “Do you have someone in mind?”

Masterman nodded. “I do actually. He"s a good man, very capable, very experienced. He"d fit the bill for this operation.”

The Chief looked around the table. “What do you think?”

There were nods of agreement. In reality it was the only option. Choice was a luxury they didn"t have.

“If you think your man can do it,” challenged Barton.

“Oh, he can do it alright. He"ll cut out these contractors like a surgeon removing a cancer. He"ll leave you with a network still intact and operational, and the Americans won"t even know we"ve been players in this game.”

“You, of course, understand the protocols, Masterman,” said Barton brusquely.

Masterman nodded. He understood them alright, had been made aware of them numerous times over the past four years as Head of the Redaction Unit. If it blows up in your face, you"re on your own. If your people are lost, they better damn well shut up or put a bullet through their own heads. There would be nothing written down, no verbal command authorization; nothing that could be traced back to the Chief, and aside from the five men in this room there would no other witnesses.

Everything would stop at and come from Barton, the Vice-Chief, who in real terms would be the cut out between "operational tasks" and the Chief"s executive level. For the sake of proprietary, the mission would be run under the cover of a "training exercise". It was to be plausible yet deniable, as their American Cousins would, ironically, phrase it.

“So do I have the green light?” asked Masterman, looking around the room and making eye contact with each man.

And with an imperceptible nod from the Chief, really nothing more than a slight inclination of his head in the general direction of the far side of the table, Operation: MACE, as it was to become known within the history of the Secret Service, was born.