Deception by Adrian Magson Page A

soft but accusatory. He’d made it clear already that he considered Deakin’s general approach to deserters far too aggressive, and likely to frighten off those who really needed help.
    â€˜He got cold feet, that’s what went wrong.’ Deakin’s lip curled in derision. ‘Maybe they’re all like that in Signals and the Green Slime: no guts when it comes to carrying through a decision.’
    Nicholls ignored the nickname; he was long accustomed to it in a job where name calling was as much for self-protection as it was for denigrating other branches of the military. But the implied insult rankled and he took in a deep breath, eyes growing dark with dislike.
    â€˜Hey, guys, cool it.’ Turpowicz tapped the table and looked from one to the other as an almost electric charge sizzled in the air between them. ‘Shit happens, right? We win some, we lose some. There’ll be others.’
    Nicholls eventually nodded and relaxed. Deakin shrugged. He’d rarely shown any great liking for the former major, and they regularly disagreed on the tactics the group should use to earn funds. But he knew not to push him too far. Nicholls was older, but he’d worked undercover for months on end in Iraq and other dangerous locations, and a man didn’t do that without having powerful inner resources and a determination to survive.
    The three men sipped their wine while the atmosphere returned to normal. Then Deakin said by way of explanation, ‘Pike turning us down I could put up with; but not after we’d transferred the money. That was taking the piss.’
    â€˜We’ll get it back,’ Turpowicz said quietly. A former bank worker before enlisting in the US military, he handled the financial transactions on behalf of the Protectory and regularly fed a stream of funds through offshore financial centres around the world. It meant the Protectory could have access to money in numerous countries at short notice, for paying helpers, informants and contacts, as well as supplying cash to help the deserters they targeted. ‘I put a reversal code on all the transfers, operable up to seven days after confirmation. One push of a button and the transfer comes right back, minus an abort fee.’ He smiled at his own ingenuity.
    â€˜So push it, then,’ Deakin muttered sourly. ‘Without the info to sell, we’re behind target.’
    â€˜Will do. What about new leads?’ He was referring to their insider in the Ministry of Defence in London, a nameless voice who was their information feed to personnel on the ‘Failed to Report’ list. With the names came all the relevant information about regiments, background, rank and home addresses, allowing the Protectory to get a trace on the missing personnel before they went cold. The fact that only one in twenty FTRs were of a grade worth following up to the fullest extent did nothing to deter their efforts with the remainder. Any serving member of the military had something they could trade, given the right pressure, even if only about senior officers and force strength. The Protectory’s trade was in information, and there were many eager buyers out there.
    â€˜I’m on it. Our man’s having to be extra careful going through the records in case he leaves an electronic footprint. For now, though, we’ve got a few to work on.’
    â€˜How did they do it?’ Nicholls queried. He plainly hadn’t finished with the matter of Pike’s death.
    â€˜Why?’ Deakin countered. ‘Will it help, you knowing that?’
    â€˜He’ll find out eventually,’ said Turpowicz, ‘when it hits the news channels. And I’d be kind of interested, too.’
    Deakin relented with ill-concealed reluctance. The Signals NCO would have stood no chance against Zubac and Ganic, the two Bosnian enforcers he’d sent to England to deal with him. They had learned their craft over years of turbulent