THE FOLLOWER: SAS hero turns Manchester hitman (A Rick Fuller Thriller Book 4)(15)

“Did the kid use drugs?” asked Rick.

Mitch put his diplomatic hat back on.

“I’m not saying that Todd was an angel. Louisville, at least the area in which Todd lived, is a very conservative part of the United States and, once away from that influence, in a cosmopolitan city such as Manchester, Todd probably wanted to let his hair down a little. We believe he smoked the odd joint.”

Mitch looked around the table at our un-surprised faces.

Lauren seemed deep in thought for a moment, her eyes focused at a far away point. She turned to the American and locked on his gaze. “Not often folks get tortured for smoking a joint in Ancoats, Mitch.” She sat back in her seat. “So where did Todd live? Was he killed at home?”

Mitch shook his head. “No Ma’am, Todd rented a private apartment on the Quays.”

Lauren raised her brows. “Wow! Not like my university days Mitch, four girls in a grotty two bedroomed flat.”

Mitch allowed the merest smile. “No Ma’am, but I wouldn’t know, as I didn’t attend college.”

The big fella moved on. “Todd’s parents are in the air as we speak. His father, John E. Blackman, will be travelling to Salford General Hospital to formally identify his son the moment they land.”

Rick sat up at that, a quizzical look on his face. “What does the ‘E’ stand for Mitch?”

Collins did that wriggle in his seat again. “I think you’ll find that E is for Eisenhower, Mr Fuller.”

Rick snorted, a light exploding in his head. “So, now we’re getting to the nitty gritty here, aren’t we? The father of our dead boy is none other than Senator Johnathan Eisenhower Blackman, front running Presidential candidate?”

“That is correct, but…”

“But nothing, Mitch,” spat Rick. “That pile of papers to your left. What are they?”

Collins placed a palm on top of the pile and took a deep breath. “They are classified documents, Mr Fuller, documents regarding Todd Blackman’s movements during the first month of his stay here in the UK.”

I nearly spat out my tea.

“Dinnae tell me your lot were supposed to be babysitting the boy?”

Mitch nodded slowly.

“At first, yes. That would be correct Mr Cogan.”

Lauren cocked her head. “So, are you in the deep brown stuff then Mitch?”

Mitch again considered his words.

“The team who were initially responsible for the safety of young Todd, and their command, are currently in the States for de-brief, Ma’am.”

I poured another cup. “I’ll fuckin’ bet they are.”

Rick leaned over to get a closer look at the papers. Mitch kept his hand on top. “I’m sorry Mr Fuller, but presently these documents are classified for US eyes only.”

Rick flopped back in his seat.

“Let me get this straight here, Mitch. You’re paying us to find the people that murdered Todd Blackman. And there, under your hand, are reports from field agents who have been following him around Manchester for a month. Don’t you think that there may be a slim chance that your guys may have already seen and identified one or more of Todd’s killers?”

Mitch’s hand didn’t move from the pile.

“As Todd had been here in the UK for six months prior to his murder, and these reports are now five months out of date, I think that is unlikely, Sir, but I will have the reports cleaned later today and then you, and your team, will have full access.”

I knew what Mitch meant. Before we went over to Belfast to slot Paddy O’Donnell, our MI5 handler, an old spy by the name of Cartwright, supplied us with various field reports from the agents who had been watching the Irish Minister’s movements. In every statement some text had been edited. Thick black markers had been used to erase code names and other details the Firm thought too sensitive for our eyes. Some of the intelligence had so much text removed, it was unreadable and useless. I wondered just how many of the reports sitting under Mitch’s hand would end up the same way before we got our grubby mitts on them.

I pointed to the pile of papers.

“So, how come you had him under protective surveillance and then dropped it after a month?”

Mitch pulled a face that told the whole room he wasn’t a happy camper. Obviously, Carver had not wanted to be the source of all the good news, and had left all the awkward questions to be fielded by the big man.

“I believe the team were stood down under orders from DC ,Sir.”

Lauren gave the American a puzzled look. “What? You removed surveillance altogether.”

Mitch nipped the bridge of his nose between thumb and finger.

“You must understand, Ma’am. If your subject doesn’t want to be protected. Doesn’t want his movements reported. Then it makes the job of such a small team almost impossible. I believe the agent running the brief reported as much to Todd’s father. I also understand, that it was Mr Blackman himself who stood the team down.”

I let out a low whistle. “That’s a fuckin’ serious guilt trip.”

Mitch nodded. “I do believe you are right, Mr Cogan.”



Lauren drained her cup. “The plot thickens eh? Despite your diplomatic language, Mitch, I’m beginning to form a picture here. The deceased is a rich kid from some shit-kicking bible belt town. He has an over-protective father who is not only running for President, but is one of the richest men in the world. Daddy is powerful enough to pull the CIA’s strings and you guys get the job of keeping an eye on little Todd. You are tasked with ensuring the kid doesn’t get into the kind of mischief that may embarrass his father and hurt his Presidential ambitions whilst here in Old Blighty. Am I warm?”