Michael turned his attention back to Zak. ‘I want you to be our Trojan Horse,’ he said.

  Zak glanced back towards the image on the whiteboard. Calaca gazed back at him.

  ‘Are you saying you want me to kill Martinez?’ he asked.

  Michael shook his head. ‘No. You’re not an assassin, Zak. And in any case, we want Martinez alive. Nobody in the world knows more about the cartels waiting in the wings to take over if and when he dies or gets brought to justice. If we’re to stop someone just as bad from replacing him, we need that information. And we need it now. The British government want Martinez brought to book and they’re prepared to risk a war with the Mexicans to do it. They’re already making their preparations. If we can get our hands on him first, we can stop that.’

  ‘This should be the Americans’ job,’ Gabs interrupted. ‘Mexico’s on their doorstep.’

  ‘The Americans aren’t willing to risk it,’ Michael said. ‘A major diplomatic incident on their southern border is the last thing they need, and in any case they know how clever Martinez is. Evidence of his activities is impossible to find. He’s a skilled operator who keeps himself totally separate from anything that would incriminate him. No, the only thing that can bring Martinez down is us. And the only way we can get close to him is if we have somebody on the inside. We plan to insert an agent into his compound in the hope that they can get proof of his activities. Once they’ve done that, they’ll need to direct a special forces team into the compound to abduct him. If we have Martinez in custody and evidence of his drug trafficking, the Mexican authorities will hardly be in a position to complain. Do you understand everything I’ve said so far?’

  Zak nodded. He didn’t quite trust himself to speak and not sound terrified.

  ‘Martinez is a very careful man. We’ve known for some time that he employs body doubles, much like Saddam Hussein used to in Iraq. Martinez’s body doubles are better than Saddam’s ever were. Our intelligence suggests that there are five of them, and they’ve all undergone extensive plastic surgery to make them indistinguishable from their master. Plus, they’ve studied his gait and his mannerisms. Our understanding is that it’s extremely difficult to tell which is the real Martinez, but we’re hoping that if somebody gets close enough, they’ll be able to do it.’

  Zak frowned. ‘But . . . you can’t expect me to break in to Martinez’s compound without anybody knowing—’

  ‘Zak,’ Michael interrupted, ‘you haven’t been listening. Think of the Trojan Horse. The Greeks didn’t have to send it into the city covertly – the Trojans brought it in themselves.’ He pressed his keypad yet again and Calaca disappeared. A new face replaced him. It was a boy, about Zak’s age, maybe a little older. With his black hair and dark eyes he looked very like Martinez himself. But there were differences. While Martinez’s face had been emotionless, this one was more expressive. There was something sad about him. Something wary.

  ‘This,’ Michael said, ‘is Cruz, Martinez’s son. Look at his picture closely, Zak, because Cruz Martinez is about to become your new best friend.’

  11

  DECISION TIME

  Zak stared at the picture.

  ‘When I say that Cruz is to become your best friend,’ Michael continued, ‘what I mean is that he’s to become Harry Gold’s best friend. It’s very important – and I can’t stress this enough – that the moment we take you away from this island, you leave Zak Darke behind. You’re fully familiar with Harry Gold’s past, so you must be aware of his great-uncle Frank?’

  It was like flicking a switch as Zak started to spout everything he knew. ‘Frank Gold,’ he said. ‘Born 1931 in Blackburn, brother of Harry’s paternal grandfather John. Never married, no children. Worked as a structural engineer until emigrating to Mexico in 1995.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Mexico . . .’ he repeated

  Michael was nodding in satisfaction. It clearly pleased him that Zak could remember this information so well. He brought up a new picture on the whiteboard: a thin, elderly man with a lined face, a bald head and sharp eyes. ‘Meet your great-uncle,’ he said. ‘You look confused. What’s wrong?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Zak shrugged. ‘I guess I kind of thought all these relatives of Harry’s were as made-up as him.’

  ‘Some are,’ Michael said, ‘and some aren’t. That’s the art of deception. The best lies are the ones that have an element of truth in them. Remember that. Of course, it’s probably crossed your mind that Frank Gold might not be everything he seems. He is, in fact, a long-serving MI6 field operative.’

  ‘What’s his real name?’

  Michael sighed. ‘This obsession with real names, Zak. You really must let go of it. If you think things through, you’ll realize how important it is that you don’t know Frank’s “real” name any more than he should know yours. After all, there’s no way you can give up information you don’t have, is there?’

  ‘No,’ Zak replied. ‘I guess not.’

  ‘As you’re aware, Frank Gold has been living in Mexico City for the best part of fifteen years. His cover is good and he’s melted into the local community. He’s part of the scenery, really. And as luck would have it, he’s just extended an invitation to Harry to come and stay with him for a year. Frank was very upset by the death of Harry’s parents, you see, and would like to do what he can for the lad – especially as Harry’s Spanish is excellent and he’s shown a real interest in Mexican culture.’ He looked over at Gabs. ‘Harry’s Spanish is excellent, isn’t it?’

  Gabs nodded mutely and Michael winked at Zak, looking rather pleased with his deception; but the mention of dead parents had been like a knife in Zak’s guts, and he just looked down.

  Michael continued talking. He didn’t appear to notice Zak’s pain. ‘Of course, as Harry’s guardian, Frank needs to make sure that his great-nephew continues his schooling, so he has enrolled Harry into the Colegio de Mexico, one of the finest educational establishments in the capital. This also happens to be the school that Cruz Martinez attends.’

  ‘How convenient,’ Zak murmured.

  ‘Isn’t it though? Harry needs to make friends with him, Zak. Good friends. Hopefully that will give you a reason for being in Martinez’s compound, but after that it’s up to you. Remember, your primary objective is to locate hard evidence regarding Martinez’s involvement in drug trafficking. I can’t tell you what that evidence will be. You just have to use your intuition. Once you’ve gathered enough evidence, you’ll need to guide a special forces assault team into the compound, locate Martinez – not one of his body doubles – and help them abduct him.’

  ‘Michael,’ Gabs said. ‘This is too much for his first assignment. It’s too difficult, too dangerous . . .’

  Michael ignored her. ‘You’ll need this,’ he said, and he handed something to Zak. It was an iPhone, slightly scuffed around the edges as though someone had already been using it. ‘It’s been modified,’ Michael explained. ‘You need to keep it on you all the time. It contains a highly advanced GPS tracking chip that we’ve attached to the SIM card cradle.’

  ‘All phones have GPS chips these days,’ Zak said.

  ‘Not like this. It has its own built-in power source and can transmit much more powerful signals than most GPS devices. Special forces use these in the jungle where ordinary GPS chips get blocked by the canopy overhead.’

  Zak glanced over at Raf. ‘I thought I wasn’t supposed to rely on GPS for navigation anyway.’

  ‘You’re not. This isn’t for navigating, Zak. It’s for us to know exactly where you are at any given moment. We have spy satellite technology – a dedicated satellite, just to follow you. This means that at a control centre in London we can have constant, real-time satellite images of where you are at all times. These images are very detailed – at least, they are during the daytime. It’s like having your very own security camera pointing right at you. There will be a special forces team inserted in-country close to Martinez’s compound. If you raise the alarm, they’ll be there to pick you up in minutes.’

  ‘How does he raise the alarm?’ Gabs asked. She looked as nervous as Zak felt.

  ‘By dialling one of two four-digit numbers. Six-four-eight-two means you’re compromised and need to be extracted. Five-eight-six-nine means you’re ready to guide in the SF team to abduct Martinez – but you can’t do that until you have evidence of his criminal activities. The phone also comes with a high-resolution camera and scanning mechanism, as well as all the standard audio and video recording capabilities. There will be a constant data connection wherever you are in the world, which will allow you to upload any evidence to a secure server then delete it from the phone. You’ll need to spend some time getting used to that device, Zak. It’s your lifeline.’

  Zak turned the phone over in his hand. It was cool and everything, but as lifelines went, it didn’t seem like much. ‘I don’t suppose it makes phone calls as well, does it?’ he asked.

  Michael smiled. ‘As a matter of fact, it does. But once you’re inside the Martinez compound, you can’t make any.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘The data connection is secure, but voice messages are easy to intercept. In any case, Martinez’s compound is more than likely to be bugged to high heaven. You need to rely on the fact that we will know where you are at all times, and not contact us unless you’re dialling the distress code.’

  He handed something else to Zak. It was a credit card, platinum in colour, with the words Coutts & Co written on it in copperplate. ‘Coutts are a private bank in London. When Harry’s parents died, they left him a lot of money. An account has been set up in his name with a large sum deposited for you to draw on.’

  ‘How much?’ Zak asked, intrigued.

  ‘A large sum. Should it start to dwindle, we’ll replenish it. It’s important for your safety that you should be able to get hold of money if you need it, but it would look suspicious if you went for weeks without spending anything and then suddenly let it be seen that you were wealthy. So you need to start spending from day one. Act like a rich kid. Buy whatever you want.’

  ‘Anything?’ Nobody had ever said this to him before – growing up, money had always been tight.

  ‘Anything. Clothes, gadgets – if you see something you like, buy it. Even if you don’t like it, buy it. It’s an important part of your cover, and your cover is everything. You can’t give anyone any reason to be suspicious of you. When Frank meets you at the airport, you greet him like a long-lost friend. You don’t talk to him about your real reason for being in Mexico City unless you are absolutely sure nobody can overhear you or even watch your lips moving. Even when you’re alone you’d be wise to keep quiet about it. The best way to make other people believe you really are Harry Gold is to act like you believe it yourself at all times.’

  A silence descended on the room. It had all been a lot to take in and Zak felt confused. He was also alarmed by Gabs’s reaction. She was no coward, so for her to be worried about the dangers of infiltrating Martinez’s compound was unnerving.

  ‘There’s something else you need to know,’ Michael said. He looked at Raf and Gabs. ‘All three of you. The special forces unit will consist of six commandos, and will have an armed helicopter at its disposal with a special forces flight crew. Raphael, Gabriella, you’re to join them. You’ve trained Zak and you know him. I want you there in case he needs any backup. The SF unit will be under your personal command.’

  For the first time during that meeting, Gabs smiled. Not a smile of happiness, but of relief.

  ‘The commandos will be taken from the Counter Revolutionary Warfare wing of the SAS,’ he continued. ‘This means they’re highly vetted and the closest we can get to an entirely secure unit. They are also well used to deniable missions. And this, ladies and gentlemen, is very much a deniable mission. That means that if anything goes wrong, the British government will deny all knowledge.’

  Michael looked at each of them in turn. ‘And now,’ he said, ‘if you don’t mind, I’d like a few words with Zak alone.’

  Raf and Gabs looked a bit surprised, but they didn’t argue. As she walked past Zak towards the door, Gabs gave him an encouraging little smile. And then he was alone with Michael.

  The old man didn’t speak for a minute. He just looked at Zak with those intense green eyes. In the end, Zak couldn’t hold his gaze and he glanced downwards.

  ‘You probably think,’ Michael said finally, ‘that I’m treating you rather badly.’

  ‘I don’t know what to think,’ Zak said, and it was the truth.

  ‘You need to understand that I wouldn’t be activating you if I didn’t think that you were up to the job. But that doesn’t mean you have to go. There’s no obligation. The choice is yours.’

  Zak thought about that for a moment before replying. ‘When I first came here, you said you’d tell me about my parents when the time was right. I think the time is right now. Tell me what you know and maybe I’ll think about going to Mexico.’

  Michael inclined his head. ‘I don’t blame you for trying to negotiate, Zak. It’s what I’d do in your situation. But I’m afraid the answer’s still no. The time will come when you’ll understand why but that time hasn’t arrived yet. You need to make a decision without any thoughts of your parents clouding your judgement. And you need to make it now, Zak.’

  Zak stood up. He walked over to the tall windows and looked out over the island. The sun that had been so bright when he woke up was now clouded over. It didn’t surprise Zak – the weather could change so quickly in this remote place and now it looked as windy and bleak as it always did.

  ‘What happens if I say no?’ he asked.

  ‘Then you stay here with Raphael and Gabriella. Continue your training and wait for something more’ – Michael sounded like he was searching for a word – ‘more appropriate to come along. Of course, if you continue to refuse activation, there’s a limit to how long you’ll remain useful to us.’

  ‘And what then?’

  ‘What then indeed.’

  Another pause.

  ‘I’ll do you a deal,’ Michael said.

  That made Zak turn around. ‘I didn’t think you were in the habit of making deals,’ he said.

  ‘I’m not. But in this instance . . . Go to Mexico. Infiltrate the Martinez compound. Try to find the evidence we need. If you don’t, we’ll pull you out and bring you back here. Either way I promise you – and it is a solemn promise – that next time we meet, I’ll tell you what happened to your parents.’

  Michael’s face was serious. So serious that it didn’t even occur to Zak to doubt him.

  ‘You can pull me out any time?’ he asked.

  ‘Any time,’ Michael replied.

  Zak nodded then turned to look out of the window again. ‘What if Cruz doesn’t take a shine to me?’ he asked. ‘A lot of people don’t at school. I mean, didn’t.’

  Michael walked up to where Zak was standing. He stood next to him and also gazed out across the bleak scenery. ‘The secret to a successful operation,’ he said in a quiet voice, ‘is not to leave anything to chance.’ He put one hand on Zak’s shoulder. ‘Cruz will take a shine to you. Martinez too, for that matter. I can absolutely promise you that. We’ve got it all worked out.’

  It started to spit with rain, but compared to a drug lord’s compound, this bleak island no longer felt so unwelcoming.

  ‘What happens if this Martinez guy doesn’t get brought to justice?’ Zak asked.

  ‘Families will continue to die. Innocent children. And not just in Mexico, Zak. The drugs that he sends into the UK ruin more lives than we can even count.’

  Zak dug his fingernails into the palm of his hand. He felt like he was on the edge of a cliff and didn’t have the courage to take the final step.

  ‘Yes or no, Zak. That’s all you have to say. Your decision.’

  Zak took a deep breath. He glanced over his shoulder at the picture of Cruz staring from the whiteboard into the room, then he looked back out of the window at the darkening sky.

  And finally he spoke.

  ‘Yes,’ he said.

  Michael nodded. ‘Good. Then you need to listen carefully, Zak. I promised you that Cruz was to become your best friend. This is how we’re going to do it . . .’

  PART TWO

  12

  UNCLE FRANK

  One week later

  ‘Another Coke, Mr Gold?’

  Zak smiled up at the air hostess. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Why not? Thanks.’

  Harry Gold’s booking on flight VS892 from London Heathrow to Mexico City International Airport was in first class, which meant his seat was large – and spacious enough to convert into a bed – and he could ask for pretty much anything he liked. Trouble was, although he thought he was doing a good job of pretending to be used to such luxury, inside he was churned up. He flicked through the films available on his personal TV set. Nothing grabbed him, so he forced down a meal of smoked salmon and rare beef, washed down with a couple more Cokes, then slept for the remainder of the journey.

  Once they’d landed, he had to wait ages for his luggage – two expensive Louis Vuitton suitcases that he had bought on a shopping spree in Harrods just a couple of days ago.

  It had been a strange week. The day after his long conversation with Michael, a helicopter had arrived to escort him off the island. Michael and Raf had shaken his hand; Gabs had been on the verge of tears. She’d handed him a present, wrapped up in blue tissue paper. Zak had unwrapped it to find a belt. ‘But not an ordinary belt,’ Gabs had said. ‘Look.’ She’d loosened the buckle to pull out a thin, exquisitely sharp blade. Zak couldn’t help thinking the gift was a bit like Gabs herself. Stylish, elegant . . . but deadly. ‘Be careful, sweetie,’ she’d said. ‘Remember everything you’ve learned.’ And then she’d hugged him.

  The chopper had escorted him back over the rough waters to the Scottish mainland, south into England and had set him down on a deserted helipad ten miles west of St Albans. There, a car was waiting. It was a black Daimler with tinted windows; the driver was grim-faced and didn’t speak a word to Zak as he navigated to the M1, drove him into London and dropped him off outside a grand mansion block in Knightsbridge. Zak had known for some months that Harry Gold had a flat just off the Brompton Road, but he hadn’t really expected to have full use of it. It was huge. The kitchen itself was bigger than the ground floor of his uncle and aunt’s house and the fridge was stuffed full of food; there were three bedrooms and a games room with a full-size snooker table, a Wii, a PlayStation and an Xbox. Zak had felt a brief pang that he had nobody to share all this with. For an irrational moment he thought of calling Ellie – he even got so far as pulling out his specially modified iPhone to dial the number, but he stopped himself at the last second. He knew how stupid that would be. No, he’d just have to stick it out, anonymous, in this luxurious flat until the time came to travel to Mexico.