Deception by Adrian Magson

friends, no footprint from bank accounts or plastic. It was like he’d dropped off the edge.’
    â€˜As you said, it’s what they do.’
    â€˜I suppose. Anyway, about twelve months ago a former colleague thought he spotted Nicholls in a restaurant in Sydney, talking to two men. The colleague took a photo on his mobile and sent it in. It’s not a confirmed sighting because the man turned away, but the other two were identified as long-term deserters. Their names had cropped up before in connection with others who’d done a bunk and gone underground. We think they were with Nicholls for a reason.’
    â€˜The Protectory?’
    â€˜Correct. The word is old – it means protecting waifs and strays. Someone’s twisted idea of a joke, if you ask me, considering some of the people they’ll be helping.’ He smiled without humour. ‘Still, it would fit the kind of man Nicholls was said to be: idealistic, apparently; good family; highly intelligent but emotionally a little naïve.’
    â€˜There’s no guarantee the Protectory will have helped Tan.’
    â€˜I wouldn’t want to find out the hard way by having her knowledge sold on the open market, would you?’
    â€˜She might have slid off the radar all by herself and gone to ground.’
    â€˜Don’t bet on that, either.’ Ballatyne leaned closer as a pair of suited office workers crept by, eyeing the bench covetously as if looks alone would render it vacant. ‘If the Protectory is operating the way we think they are, it’s likely they need a regular flow of operating capital for expenses, accommodation, bribes and travel. It’s a costly business slipping people off the radar. One way of doing it would be by selling the information deserters have. And some of them are very bright bunnies indeed. Bloody scary, the details some of them carry in their heads.’
    â€˜Going AWOL doesn’t automatically make a traitor. Someone like Tan might refuse to play along with them.’
    â€˜It’s not just about Tan.’ Ballatyne’s eyes were cold. ‘We can’t count on the Protectory passing up on anyone with her specialized knowledge. They go on fishing expeditions for the people they want and they play hard.’
    â€˜Go on.’
    â€˜We have reason to believe that while he was sunning himself in Thailand, Pike was contacted by a man named Thomas Deakin. He’s a former captain in the Scots Guards who went over the fence six years ago. Since then, he’s rumoured to have tried forming his own group, called Highway Eighty, which as you probably know is the main route out of Baghdad.’ The flinty smile came again. ‘The man clearly has a sense of irony. Anyway, we hear they’ve now merged with the Protectory, although they would appear on the surface to be like chalk and cheese.’
    â€˜How so?’
    â€˜In another life Deakin would be a mercenary. It’s not fighting that frightens him; it’s the lack of freedom to do his own thing. My guess is the Protectory is a useful stepping stone. Nicholls and his crew are probably a bit too soft for the likes of Deakin, too touchy-feely  . . . not aggressively commercial enough. In the end, though, they’re the same animal, sharing similar traits; they help other deserters, check them out, give them money, sanctuary, documents and point them towards a new life.’
    â€˜A benevolent society.’
    â€˜Originally, maybe. But Deakin’s turned them into a regular business; they concentrate on targeting new deserters within days of them leaving, and finding those with saleable talents. They drain them of any specialized knowledge, then sell it to the highest bidder. It’s an attractive deal for someone on the run: just tell us all you know and we’ll give you money, a new ID, freedom  . . . and no more fighting.’
    â€˜What about the ones with no saleable