Whatever it takes: The Tom Wilder Thriller Series, #2

By Jack Brandon

"Russia cripples the West" – An impossible newspaper headline?  Think again!

The USA and the UK have jointly developed a new high-tech weapon. But they won't use it themselves – too many innocent civilians would suffer if they did. But the Russian President has no such scruples – and he has plans to steal it.

If he succeeds, he'll black-out electricity supplies, shut down banks, do whatever he likes in both the US and the UK. And bring them to their knees? Maybe.

But not if Tom Wilder to Wilder can help it. He has the skills and the weapon to stop them. But he's up against Moscow's ruthless mercenaries. They're secretly backed by the might of the Russian State. Will they prove too much for Wilder and his team to handle? There's only one way to find out …

'Whatever it takes' is a fast-moving thriller that races around the world – New York, London, Moscow, the Crimea, the Philippines ... And if you enjoy the likes of Jack Reacher, you'll love Tom Wilder. So, if you want to know how he deals with these crises, treat yourself!  Get this first book in the exciting Tom Wilder Thriller Series right now.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jack Brandon
• Release date: Aug 3, 2017
• ISBN: 9781545541593

Book preview

Contents

WHATEVER IT TAKES

WHATEVER IT TAKES

BOOK 2

TOM WILDER

THRILLER SERIES

(Second Edition)

JACK BRANDON

Author’s Note

Since this book was first written, there have been considerable advances in technology. With a recent announcement that one of the world’s largest tech companies is about to launch its first quantum computer, the ‘real world’ is catching up with the technology portrayed in this book. My publishers and editors thought that, in view of this, I should update my book here and there. I have also added a new start to the book.

Occasionally I have other books also available for FREE or at greatly reduced prices. For more information, see at the end of this book.

1

The Towneley Bank, the City of London

Angus Macrae put the phone down slowly. Professor Hapsley’s telephone call had lasted just minutes. Yet it had shocked him to the core. He put a hand up to his forehead. It was damp – even in that time, tiny beads of sweat had covered it. He looked up from the throne-like office chair and cast his eyes around the room. Not long appointed managing director of London’s second oldest bank, the call had been the last thing he needed. The stern portraits of his Towneley ancestors hanging around the walls of the oak-panelled office seemed to be glaring back down at him, mocking him to get a grip of himself.

‘Dammit!’ he muttered under his breath. Then, his first reaction to the news it had brought him subsiding, he added, ‘Thank God Tom’s now aboard – he’ll know what to do.’

He leant across the desk and buzzed the intercom.

‘Can you get me Tom Wilder, please Jennie? If they say he’s in a meeting, get it interrupted. If he’s not in the IPI building, try his mobile phone. I need to speak to him just as soon as you can find him.’

‘Yes, Sir.’

While he waited for Jennie to find Wilder, he rose from his chair and went around the desk and began pacing back and forth. Then, inexplicably, he perched himself, half-sitting, on the edge of the desk. He felt distracted, now unsure even why he’d come around here. At that moment his gaze fell on the tall grandfather clock standing in the corner of the room.

Three minutes past eleven declared its intricately fashioned hands. This was quickly followed by an extraordinary thought – the pubs would be open now. Though only an occasional and modest drinker, he rose from the desk and crossed the room to the drinks-cabinet. This was hidden behind a row of fake books, their false spines stuck to its cabinet door. It had been there for years, a handy place to keep the wherewithal to celebrate a deal perhaps.

Pulling the door open roughly, three deep shelves holding a variety of bottles and a range of glasses were revealed. He chose a small balloon brandy glass and then a bottle of fine Hine’s brandy. Pulling out a retractable shelf beneath the others, he noticed that his hand was shaking as he put the brandy balloon glass down onto it. He poured himself a hefty measure of the golden liquid and quickly gulped some of it down. Then, crossing the room he eased himself down into one of a pair of winged chairs in front of the log fire. Since the days of the Clean Air Acts, this was a fake log fire of course, but the gas fuelled flames flickered brightly enough this winter morning and warmed him its flickering flames calming him. Sipping some more of the pleasantly fiery drink, its spirits seeping down his throat and warming abroad swathe of his midriff, he sighed, calmer but still troubled by the call.

‘Where the hell’s Tom Wilder?’

As though to answer his rhetorical question, the telephone rang – loud and shrill in the tense silence of the room. Leaping to his feet, he hurried across to it. Putting the brandy glass down on the desk, he snatched up the phone – nearly dropping it in his haste.

‘I was in a meeting,’ said Wilder, ‘but your secretary told mine that it was important I call you right back. What’s up?’

‘You obviously didn’t you get a call from the Professor then?’

‘No I didn’t,’ Wilder’s deep voice relaxed, soothing Macrae’s irritation. ‘Maybe he tried to reach me but wasn’t as persistent as your secretary. Anyway, what’s the problem? Gemini?’

‘Yes. But have you got a minute? What I have to tell you may take some explaining.’

‘Sure, on you go – I’m sitting comfortably in my own office and my time is yours.’

Macrae settled himself back into his chair and reflected for a couple of seconds. He wanted at least to sound as though he was in command the situation that had just arrived with the call – even though he was far from it.

‘The Professor got two telephone calls,’ he said at last. ‘One from US intelligence, the other their UK counterparts. Bearing in mind that it’s only six in the morning over there in Langley, and that the CIA called the Professor immediately, you can gather that what I’m about to tell you is both urgent and not good.’

‘Let’s have it then and we can decide what to do about this not good thing,’ said Wilder.

‘To cut to the chase as they say in Langley,’ continued Macrae, ‘it looks as though the Malpas Organisation has finally gone to war with the Kremlin and its Mafia allies. And, as we now know, they’re doing so over Gemini. The thought of Luther Malpas’s thugs coming here is… well it’s…’

‘Hold on, Angus,’ cut in Wilder. ‘What makes you think that anyone knows where Gemini is located? As far as we know, Gemini’s location is still a secret. Or are you now telling me that someone has found Gemini?’

‘No, no. I didn’t mean to imply that either Malpas or the Russians have yet discovered that Gemini’s here somewhere; I’m sorry for panicking. But the body count over Gemini has been rising by the day since more people have got to hear of its existence and have started looking for it. By yesterday, with two of Rodchenko’s people were killed outside the Kremlin the total headcount in what one might call this Gemini war had risen to four. And now Langley and GCHQ have just told the Professor that, in addition those four bodies, another two.’

‘Ah, two more.’

‘Yes. Two of Massimo’s New York Mafia people have also just disappeared – as in disappeared in the Hudson River or a building-site cement grave. So, that’s six bodies in total. And, as though that’s not bad enough, Malpas has sent an extraordinarily threatening email to the Massimo Organisation. So, as you may imagine, sitting here, feeling like a duck in a shooting gallery, with Gemini under my control and the world’s most evil arms dealer on his way over here looking for Gemini.’

‘Okay Angus, here’s what I want you to do,’ Wilder’s tone verging towards a school master’s. ‘Try to put this out of your mind for the half hour that it will take me to get to you from here. We can then have a proper discussion about this. After that, we can discuss it with the Professor and with both Langley and GCHQ. I can also call MI6 if necessary. As I say, it will only take me half an hour or so to get from Piccadilly to The City.’

‘It’s miserably wintry out there today, Tom, but I would really appreciate that.’

As Wilder left the International Private Investigator’s office building, he bent his six-foot-five frame into the biting wind sweeping down from the north. Despite his Cossack hat and his heavy Astrakhan coat’s deep collar turned up, the occasional blast of fine snow still got through to his face, stinging it as he walked up the Haymarket’s incline. He headed for Piccadilly Circus – usually a good place to catch a cab. This mini blizzard had only recently started, but it had been long forecast so there wasn’t the usual throng of people about and the tourist season was still some months away. The traffic was light, and as he got to the top of the Haymarket, he spotted a cab letting off its passenger; running across to it, he hailed it just as the cabbie turned on his ‘for hire’ sign.

As soon as he was in the taxi and had slammed the door against the winter outside, he called through to the cabbie, ‘Towneley Bank, Gresham Street, please.’

He quickly pulled his briefcase up onto his lap and opened it. He hoped this might deter the cabbie from getting into one of those rambling discussions about putting the world to rights the way so many of them do. He took out of it two pages lying on top of some files. These were copies of the emails that GCHQ and Langley had picked up and had got Macrae into a spin. As soon as Macrae was off the phone, he’d called the Professor. Calmer than Macrae, he’d sent Wilder these copies. In future he would need all such communications to come to him first; he could then decide how much to tell Macrae – keep panics such as this to a minimum.

Putting his briefcase on the seat beside him, he now read the emails carefully.

The first was from Pete Taylor, head of the Gemini Project surveillance team at GCHQ. He’d sent it to the Professor as a backup to his call. It was Taylor and his colleagues’ job to monitor everything on the internet that mentioned the word Gemini and to warn the Professor and his Gemini team of any chatter on matters that could be related to Gemini.

This first page was just a covering email to introduce the second all-important copy email – the one that had spooked Macrae. Below its letter heading – Government Communications Headquarters, known to most people as GCHQ – there was a small subheading, ‘Gemini Project Team’.

Hi Professor.

Here’s a copy of the email we intercepted. I’m glad it’s you rather than me trying to handle that snake in the grass Luther Malpas.

Best of luck with it.

Pete Taylor

Wilder then looked at the second page and read the Malpas email itself.

Giuseppe,

This is a formal note concerning Gemini. It is to advise you that we at Malpas International have decided to hunt down and acquire a copy of this new technology for ourselves and perhaps for some clients. In view of the mess that your organisation and your Mafia associates in Moscow have made recently while looking for Gemini, I wish you to stop all your searches for it with immediate effect. I will repeat that for emphasis and so there can be no doubt later or any ambiguity. You and your organisation are to have nothing more whatsoever to do with Gemini or its owners as from today.

Not only have your crass mistakes looking for it already muddied the waters for my organisation, they have also aroused the unwanted interest of the authorities in both the USA and the UK. I would be grateful if you will warn other Mafia organisations in New York, (such as the Balboni and Gallo outfits), that this embargo applies to them too as it does to your associate Mafia organisation run by Anton Novikov in Moscow.

Notwithstanding this halt to all your Gemini activities, my consiglieri Bernard Maneck will be contacting you shortly. He will require of you everything you have on the Gemini project. This will include the project itself and any information you have on related matters such as your confrontations with Tom Wilder of International Private Investigators. One of your people has told us that Wilder has recently been made responsible for Gemini’s security and that he has been a major factor in your organisation’s failure in its pursuit of Gemini. I will need, therefore, copies of every communication or confrontation you’ve had with Wilder. Although I have my own ways of finding out about people, I want to know everything that you have learned about him, his family and his strengths and his weaknesses.

In addition to my own team of enforcers, I have employed the services of Hector Slade to expedite progress. I hope I do not need to ask him to call on you.

My regards to Francesca and your two boys.

Looking forward to hearing from you immediately,

Luther Malpas.

The email could hardly be clearer. It also reminded Wilder how ruthless Malpas could be and of his outrageous arrogance. Only last year he’d proved that Malpas had stolen valuable intellectual property from one of IPI’s clients. Naturally, he and Luther had clashed. It had been a battle of wits and had turned violent. Once, when Wilder had been out of the IPI London offices, Malpas had sent some of his ‘enforcers’ round there. They’d said they were looking for Wilder. In his absence, they’d spread terror through the offices and staff – though they’d stopped short of actual physical damage to either persons or property.

Wilder’s remembered with a smile his immediate return visit to Malpas’s headquarters in Geneva. That had resulted in what could only be called mayhem. It had ended with an abject apology from Luther Malpas himself to both Mike Rogers, head of IPI Europe and to Bob Brady in New York, head of IPI worldwide. Understandably, it had also put Wilder and Malpas on hostile terms ever since.

But Wilder was particularly concerned about a certain passage in the email – Malpas wanting to know what Massimo knew of his family – this of course meant Lucy. It sent a chill through him. He had never cared much for his own safety as his outstanding bravery in Afghanistan and medals he’d been awarded proved. But his major weakness was Lucy – and, right now, like some unwanted video, the whole history between himself and his daughter flashed through his mind.

Lucy’s mother, his beautiful Liz, dying in the collapse of the Twin Towers on 9/11; his desertion of Lucy while he pursued his personal revenge for her death by going out to fight Al Qaeda in Afghanistan. He’d missed six years or more of her young life for nothing – except this bucketful of guilt of course. If Malpas came after Lucy, he would need to…These thoughts were interrupted as the cabbie sounding his horn several times in frustration at a traffic snarl-up. The cab had been stuck for a while; due to the snow-sludge on the roads, a van up ahead had slewed across the road and blocked it. Fortunately, shortly after the cabbie’s outburst, they were on the move again. Wilder looked at his watch. He quickly phoned through to Macrae’s secretary to warn Macrae that the traffic was bad – that he might be later than promised. In his poor friend’s present state of nervousness, such small reassurances were needed. Still, although he would never admit it to Macrae, there was good reason to be on edge – tangling with Malpas again was the last thing the Gemini project needed. The New York and Moscow Mafia had been incompetent in their searches for Gemini; whatever one might say of Malpas, no one could accuse him of incompetence.

2

A cab, on its way to the City of London.

As the cab moved on towards the City, progress was still slow. Wilder used the time to think through how he was to handle his secondment to Macrae’s Gemini Project. One bonus to this daunting task was that they’d known each other from school days. They’d enjoyed Cambridge University together. Macrae had known his beautiful Liz well; they were all in the same happy group together. And to cap all of that, he’d been best man at the grand Moscow wedding when Macrae married the beautiful Tatiana Rostov.

‘That’s the way I’ll need to play this,’ he muttered to himself. In the months leading up to the wedding, Wilder had taken control of Macrae. Though he’d played it ‘low key’, he’d taken on the servant turned master role – he’d taken control of much of Macrea’s life, most certainly the social side of it. He decided now that, for Macrea’s sake, he’d now take control of all matters connected to Gemini. In future he wouldn’t spell out the implications of the crises such as the present one. Although he would never lie to Macrae, he’d shield him as much as possible from what seemed likely to unfold now that Malpas had come onto the scene.

These thoughts took his mind went back to his recent trip to the Russian President’s fixer’s castle on the Crimean Peninsula. He’d seen the fixer, Igor Rodchenko, assassinate two of Malpas’s men by blowing up their helicopter with them in it. This had surely started this war between Malpas and the Kremlin. But he would need to keep his fears on this from Macrae – let him get on with the onerous job as managing director of the Towneley Bank, keep everything to do with Gemini away from Macrae – it would also give him greater leeway of action – especially regarding somewhat less than legal moves he might want to make on Malpas.

These thoughts led him onto the inescapable likelihood that this war over Gemini was likely to get progressively more difficult to contain. Worse, Malpas was thick as thieves with his Chinese clients – would that also bring deeply covert confrontation between Beijing and Moscow? Or bring Chinese gangs here looking for Gemini too?

By now the cab was approaching the City and he put the emails back into his briefcase. As he snapped it shut, his mobile phone rang.

It was Pete Taylor at GCHQ.

‘Hello Pete, I’m in a cab heading into the City of London. I’ve read the email you sent me earlier. What have you got for me now?’

‘I’m ringing you because there’s another email we just picked up on Gemini,’ said Taylor. ‘It’s Massimo’s reply to Malpas. It’s long so shall I just give you the gist of it over the phone now and send you a copy of it later?’

‘Please do.’

‘The first thing about this second email is its tone,’ said Taylor. ‘In all the time I’ve been investigating Massimo, I’ve never seen him so cowed. You’d hardly believe he was head of New York’s biggest Organised Crime outfit. His tone is almost as though he’s grovelling to Malpas. So, I guess that he will indeed be sending Malpas everything that he knows about Gemini.’

‘That’s a pity,’ said Wilder. ‘I’m told that Massimo took weeks delving around collecting information on Gemini, but then, luckily for us, making a mess of things after that. Trouble is, mess or no mess, whatever he passes on to Malpas will give that megalomaniac an unwelcome head start. Anyway, sorry to interrupt – on you go with Massimo’s reply to Malpas.’

‘I won’t read out all the Gemini technical information that Massimo has passed over to Malpas as you’ll know that stuff even better than me. The most important point he makes, is that it confirms for Malpas how staggeringly powerful Gemini is. He gives Malpas some examples of what Gemini could do if he or any of his clients deployed Gemini as a cyber-weapon.’

‘What examples?’

‘He explains that as Gemini can get through any computer defence system in existence, it can take control of anything its owner chooses to attack. He lists as potential takeover targets air traffic control systems, electrical power grids, food distribution and transport systems, commuter trains, ATM cash machines…’

‘So, does the email’s message come across clearly that Gemini could be used to bring a country to its knees?’ asked Wilder.

‘It does. Clear as a bell.’

‘Damn! What else?’

‘As I said, it looks as though he’s given Malpas everything he’s learned about Gemini, including the background and details of the New York law firm that runs the US end of Gemini. It also reminds Massimo that he’s taken on Hector Slade as one of their associates for this project.’

‘Yes, I saw that in the first email but I didn’t understand it,’ said Wilder. ‘Who is Slade?’

‘He’s arguably the US Eastern Seaboard’s most secretive but sought-after hitman.’

‘So, let me see if I’ve got this straight,’ said Wilder, ‘Giuseppe Massimo has been warned off looking for Gemini under the threat that if he’s caught still looking for it, he’ll get a visit from Slade? Surely ex-Mafia thugs like Massimo won’t be frightened of just one hitman – whoever this Slade might be?’

‘You obviously don’t know of Slade’s reputation,’ laughed Taylor. ‘But then you’re a Brit so why would you?’

‘Aren’t you a Brit too? I thought that your being at GCHQ would mean…’

‘No, I’m from Boston, Massachusetts; I’ve been on secondment here for three years now.’

‘Odd, I never picked up your accent Pete.’ Of course, Wilder had picked up Taylor’s accent. But hadn’t wanted to complicate relationships which, in Pete’s case, might be delicate. For example, why was a highly qualified US intelligence officer now working for UK intelligence?

‘Getting back to Massimo,’ said Wilder. ‘Are you telling me that these supposed tough Mafia guys will pay attention to the threat of a visit from Slade?’

‘You bet they will.’

‘Well, well,’ muttered Wilder. ‘Anyway, thanks for the information,’ he added out loud. ‘As this hunt for Gemini is such a dynamic business, keep up the good work and call me any time you have anything new of significance – night or day. And I’d prefer it if you treat me as your main point of contact on all Gemini matters – I’m keen to spare Angus Macrae day to day stuff.’

‘I’m on it. I promise I’ll impress that on my colleagues on the other shifts here at GCHQ and I’ll tell them to do the same at Langley. Though that promise comes at a price.’

‘What price is that?’

‘Don’t expect much sleep. And if that doesn’t bother you, I have another snippet for you from a connection of ours in the Kremlin’.

‘The Kremlin?’

‘There’s a strong rumour that Malpas is on his way over from his Crimean hideaway near Sevastopol to Rodchenko’s castle at Alupka.’

‘What? If true, that’s more useful information than you know. Thanks for that.’

3

The Towneley Bank, Gresham Street, The City of London

As soon as the cab had dropped Wilder outside the Towneley Bank and he’d paid, he ran into the bank out of the freezing wind. No sooner was he through the revolving doors, than a man in a bank-liveried uniform approached him.

‘Mr. Macrae is expecting you, Lord Falconbury. If you’d care to follow me?’ Although the usher was correct to call him by his title, it irritated Wilder. For many reasons, he no longer used his title. But he could hardly chastise an usher in the City of London’s second oldest bank, as he was indeed Lord Falconbury and the usher would know he had an account here in that titled name – though he’d need to mention this to Macrae.

The usher took him out of the main entrance hall, down a short corridor and into an anteroom. Here he asked Wilder to wait and went over to a large mahogany door, polished to a mirror finish. His discreet knock was answered by a female voice. The usher vanished around the half-open door only to return a few seconds later.

‘Would you care to come this way, Lord Falconbury?’

Wilder followed him across the next room which was obviously Macrae’s secretary’s room. The secretary herself, the epitome of her kind, gave Wilder a secretarial smile, part-welcoming, part-appraising.

On entering Macrae’s office, his old friend leapt to his feet, came around his large desk, and hurried over to him holding out both arms. Though only five-feet-ten or so to Wilder’s six-foot-five, he engulfed Wilder in a firm embrace. It was only then, as Macrae pulled back and his welcoming smile faded, Wilder could see the strain in Macrae’s face.

‘I am so I relieved to see you Tom,’ he said gesturing to a chair for Wilder to sit in. ‘I’m appalled that Luther Malpas has arrived on the Gemini scene. I’ve never met Malpas of course, but one hears that he’s embroiled in just about every war incident on the planet.’

‘Yes, he’s a nasty piece of work. But attempts to steal a copy of Gemini were always going to be on the increase as more people became aware of its existence. It was only ever going to be a question of time till Malpas’s arrived on the Gemini scene. But don’t worry; I’ve already got ideas on how to deal with the likes of him. But first, something urgent has just cropped up, I’d like to get that fixed first, do you mind?

‘Not at all, but I hope it’s not another Gemini crisis?’

‘No, more an opportunity. I recently had a lot of dealings with a good friend in Moscow, Boris Boreyev – head of one of the Federation’s largest security organisations, the one who handles all security matters for your father-in-law Mikhail Rostov’s bank.’

‘Yes, why do you bring him up – to do with this opportunity you were talking about?’

‘Exactly. Do you think he’d do us an urgent but really important job – and I do mean really important.’

Macrae looked at his watch.

‘They’re only three hours ahead of us, let’s give him a ring and find out.’

‘If you could get him on the line and then pass him over to me? ‘

Macrae’s call found Boreyev in his office and after some catching-up banter, he explained the urgency of the opportunity and passed the call to Wilder.

‘Hello, Boris. You’ll know of Luther Malpas perhaps?’

This was greeted with a loud, deep laugh. ‘Who in the security business hasn’t heard of Malpas? Is this what your opportunity is about?’

‘It is. Apparently Malpas is on his way from one of his bases near Sevastopol to the Russian president’s fixer’s castle near Alupka…’

‘What? Malpas going to see Igor Rodchenko?’

‘Yes, that’s right. I was wondering if you know of anyone who could go over there, sneak into the