Page 12 of Nobody's Hero

‘Despite what I look like now, Iwasin the Special Operations Group. I was one of its commanders. What do you know about them?’

‘Our lieutenant occasionally calls on them,’ Wagstaff said. ‘Mainly when there’s a high-value prisoner to move, or a fugitive to locate and apprehend.’

Koenig nodded. ‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘The SOG doesn’t get called in because they’re better or braver than you guys, they get called in because they’re extensively trained in tactics and weaponry. They have specialist equipment and intelligence networks and a whole bunch of other stuff that I won’t tell you about.’

‘Let’s say I believe you were SOG, which I don’t, what’s this got to do with what happened this afternoon?’

‘It’s context.’

‘Context?’

‘First, I need you to turn off your recording equipment,’ Koenig said.

‘Why the hell would we do that?’ Wagstaff said.

‘Because you don’t want what I’m about to tell you on tape. This is for your benefit, not mine. Every single person who hears this will be interviewed by the kind of people who don’t use last names. They’re going to have their lives turned upside down. Their families’ lives are going to be turned upside down. I imagine you want to avoid that.’

‘Turn off the tape,’ Wagstaff said to Mallinson.

‘But—’

‘Just do it, Mal.’

Mallinson left the room. A minute later the green lights turned red. He came back in and said, ‘Satisfied?’

‘Like I said, it’s for your benefit, not mine,’ Koenig said. ‘Soon every hard drive in this place is going to be seized. Now, where were—’

‘Wait!’ Mallinson cut in. He left the room again. Returned a minute later.

‘You accidentally forget to turn off one of your covert mics?’

Mallinson nodded. Wasn’t even embarrassed. Koenig didn’t blame him. He’d sat on the other side of the table more times than he could remember.

‘Can we start now?’ Wagstaff said.

Koenig nodded. ‘My name is Ben Koenig, and there are four things you need to know about me, Detective Wagstaff.’ He held up his index finger. ‘Seven years ago, the Solntsevskaya Bratva Russian crime syndicate put a five-million-dollar bounty on my head. I’d killed the son of a boss during a raid. I’ve been living off the grid ever since. I had to. They threatened my family.’ He put up another finger. ‘The second thing is that I have a condition that makes it impossible for me to feel fear. It’s called Urbach–Wiethe. My amygdala, the part of the brain that regulates the human fight-or-flight response, is compromised.’

Wagstaff leaned forwards. ‘You’re saying you always choose fight?’ he said.

‘No, I’m saying I never chooseflight. It wouldn’t occur to me.’

‘That sounds way cooler than it probably is,’ Wagstaff said.

‘You have no idea.’

‘What’s the third thing?’

‘A few years ago, I was shot in the head. A ricochet got under my tactical helmet. The neurologist did scans to make sure I was OK. That’s when he spotted the Urbach–Wiethe.’

‘You got canned?’ Wagstaff said.

‘I didn’t get canned.’

‘Desk job then?’

‘The opposite. Instead of riding a desk, my director sent me on the most ridiculous programme you can imagine. For two years I trained with every crazy-ass unit you can think of and a load more you won’t even know about. Some don’t officially exist. I practised targeted killing techniques with the Israelis, which is a fancy way of saying assassination. I did LINE fighting with an ex-marine and CQB with Delta. I lived and worked with the British SAS. I trained with the Russians and Chinese. I became an expert in weapons and improvised weapons. A whole other bunch of stuff I’m embarrassed about.’

‘Might have been kinder to can you,’ Wagstaff said.