Aktobe Province, Kazakhstan
Many years ago, Logan had vowed revenge against Captain Fleming. Logan’s desire to get his own back on the man who’d left him for dead with a broken leg in the wilds of Scotland had never been fulfilled.
Fleming had dodged a bullet, there was no doubt about that.
For months after the incident in the Highlands, Logan’s hatred for Fleming had remained sharp and front of mind. On an almost daily basis, he cringed as he recounted the many times that Fleming had got the better of him, and he filled his head with thoughts of how he would punish Fleming when he came face to face with him again.
That day had never come. Ultimately, Mackie had been right. The JIA had trained Logan to ignore his emotions. To live, work and fight with a clear head. They had turned him into a robot, a machine, something that on the outside resembled a human being but on the inside was a vast nothingness. Living like that had seen Logan through many years of gruelling and deadly missions for the JIA. And it had eradicated the thirst for vengeance that had clouded his formative years.
In fact, his vengeful streak had only truly been resurrected following his fateful assignment to capture Youssef Selim almost two years ago.
Although Logan had never sought his revenge on Fleming, he’d certainly not forgotten about the army captain. Logan had kept abreast of Fleming’s every move since that day in Scotland. At first, Logan had been plotting, planning his moment of retribution. But he had never gone through with it. The need to exact his revenge on Fleming had dwindled along with every other emotion. Over the years, checking up on Fleming had merely become a habit, one last remnant of his previous life – a feat of curiosity as much as anything else, rather than part of a master plan to track down and punish the ex-soldier.
Right now, though, as odd as it seemed to Logan, Fleming was the only man he could think to turn to. Did he trust Fleming? No. Logan didn’t truly trust anyone anymore. He’d learned to live like that a long time ago and recent events had only further cemented that belief. Could Fleming help him? Yes, he could. The only question was whether he would.
‘I’m assuming you’re not here to assassinate me?’ Fleming said, sitting back down in his armchair.
‘Why? Have you done something that would warrant it?’
Fleming shot Logan a look of disdain. Clearly whatever had happened to Fleming in the years since Logan had last met him, he still had the same air of superiority. He didn’t like to be challenged and he didn’t like people answering back. Once an army captain, always an army captain.
‘That’s your job, isn’t it?’ Fleming said. ‘The super spy. The deadly assassin. The boy wonder.’
‘If you say so.’ Logan shook his head and went and sat down on one of the two brown leather sofas. Grainger timidly followed and sat next to him. ‘I’m not sure I’m exactly in a job right now,’ Logan added.
Fleming took a big puff on his cigar and smiled as he exhaled, tilting his head back so that the cloud of smoke billowed up into the air.
‘Ah, I get it. So that’s why you’re here. They booted you out. What, did you start to enjoy it just that little bit too much? Enjoyed the adrenaline rush of seeing our fellow humans suffer at your hands?’
‘Not even close,’ Logan said.
‘No? But you’re here because you need my help, aren’t you?’ Fleming quizzed.
‘Yeah. I do need your help,’ Logan said, looking down at his feet and then up at Grainger. ‘We both do.’
Grainger simply nodded. She was gazing over at Fleming, her face betraying no emotion.
‘Well, this really is a turn-up for the books,’ Fleming said. ‘The boy wonder needs my help. Again.’
‘I didn’t need your help back then. And I certainly didn’t get it.’
Fleming smirked. ‘You’re saying I didn’t make you stronger?’
‘You didn’t.’
‘Ah, well, it depends exactly how you look at these things. But you need my help now. You know I’m not in the army anymore?’
‘I heard.’
‘So you’ve been keeping tabs on me?’
‘I keep tabs on a lot of people.’
‘Of course you do. You’re a proper James Bond, aren’t you?’
Logan didn’t respond.
‘I’m surprised you just can’t see that I helped you back then,’ Fleming said. ‘I helped that agency of yours mould you into exactly what they wanted you to become.’
‘Maybe the end product was what they wanted, but I’m sure I’ve nothing to thank you for.’
‘No, you’re just bitter because you thought you could beat me.’
‘I’m sure I could have.’
‘Ha, just because I’m a bit older and a bit rounder now, don’t think for a second I’m not just as capable as I was back then.’
‘I’m not here to compare dick sizes.’
‘Then what are you here for?’
Something caught Fleming’s attention over by the doorway. Logan glanced over and saw a man entering. The man did a quick double-take and stopped just a few feet into the room, staring coldly at Logan.
‘What the fuck?’ the man said. ‘I don’t believe it.’
‘Butler, you remember Carl Logan?’ Fleming said.
‘Of course I do.’
Butler walked over to the empty sofa, one eye on Logan the whole time, and then sat down. Logan wasn’t at all surprised by his presence. What he had said to Grainger had been true – he hadn’t checked up on Fleming in almost three years – but he knew all about these men.
Fleming had left the army five years ago. A dishonourable discharge was the official line, though Logan knew there was a lot more to the story than that. Since then, Fleming had set up shop as a security consultant in Kazakhstan. Butler, who’d long left the army for capability reasons, something about his weak left arm, had tagged along.
Fleming operated as a freelancer, working for the many foreign companies – Chinese and Western – investing in the region to exploit the money-making potential of the country’s vast energy reserves. From the look of his residence, armed guards and all, Logan could only guess that Fleming’s business enterprise was earning him a not-insignificant amount of money.
Butler too had noticeably aged since Logan had last seen him, but the years hadn’t been as kind to him as they had to Fleming, even though he was younger than the captain. He had a defeated look in his eyes, like many ex-military do. Usually it comes from a combination of the troubles seen in battle and the difficulty in assimilating back into a normal life. For Butler, though, Logan guessed it was the fact his military career – his lifeblood – had been cut short so abruptly. Butler’s facial features had softened and become puffy and his body had also filled out some. Judging by the changes in Butler’s face, the additional weight appeared to be mostly fat, though with the thick clothes Butler had on, Logan couldn’t tell for sure.
‘What’s he doing here?’ Butler said, looking from Logan over to Fleming. Butler’s acidic tone didn’t surprise Logan at all. He was certain that Butler was holding a grudge for his untimely exit from the SAS.
‘We were just getting on to that,’ Fleming said, still exuding calm and arrogance, in stark contrast to Butler’s anger and suspicion. ‘Perhaps you could start, Logan, with who your friend is. It’s a tad rude that you haven’t introduced us yet.’
‘I know who she is,’ Butler said, eyeing Grainger up and down.
‘You do?’ Fleming queried.
‘Angela Grainger. Pretty much the FBI’s most wanted.’
Logan glanced over at Grainger and noticed her cheeks redden. She looked down, as though embarrassed by her notoriety.
‘Then I guess you’ll know why we’re here,’ Logan said to Butler.
‘He might, but I certainly don’t,’ Fleming interrupted.
‘They’re on the run,’ Butler said. ‘They’re on the run from the CIA – the FBI too. And the boy wonder thought maybe you could help him.’
‘Is that so?’
‘You ask me,’ Butler continued, ‘we should feed them to the wolves. We don’t owe this guy anything.’
‘But I didn’t ask you,’ Fleming said to Butler, before directing his attention back to Logan. ‘So is it true? You’re on the run from your friends at the CIA?’
‘I don’t have any friends,’ Logan said. ‘I never had.’
‘What did you do?’ Fleming said, his tone suspicious but his look one of intrigue.
‘It’s a long story.’
‘And it’s a long winter. There’s not much to do in Aktobe when the temperature’s minus twenty and there’s fifteen feet of snow. I’ve got plenty of time. So try me.’
‘Let’s just say Butler is right. I need your help.’
‘You’ve got some balls coming to me for help.’
‘The way I figure it, you owe me.’
‘You broke my arm, you piece of shit!’ Butler shouted. ‘I never made it back into the field because of you. You ruined my life. I should kick the living shit out of you. I’m not going to help you.’
Logan glared over at Butler but said nothing.
‘It’s true,’ Fleming said. ‘I’m not sure why you think you’re welcome here.’
‘I think you’ll find I suffered more than either of you.’
‘Perhaps we’ll have to agree to disagree on that,’ Fleming said. ‘What exactly do you need from me? Tell me that and then let’s see.’
‘We need somewhere to stay. Just for a few days. This place is secluded and off the grid.’
‘And yet you managed to find it.’
‘I’m good at that sort of thing.’
‘So that’s it? You need a place to stay?’
‘And I thought you might know some people who can help us get to our next destination.’
‘And where’s that?’
‘China.’
Fleming humphed. ‘China? I can’t stand that fucking place or its squinty-eyed people. They might be pumping money into Kazakhstan but they pay peanuts and expect the world.’
‘I wasn’t inviting you to come with us. We just need help getting there.’
‘And why the hell do you think I’ll help you?’
‘Because you do owe me. And because the people who are after me, who screwed me over – they screwed you over too.’