He tried to think logically. He was pursuing a woman who had stolen a sixty-million-dollar painting, but had she left the picture in Bucharest, or had it been transferred into the new crate, with the intention of selling the painting to someone in Hong Kong? Then he turned his thoughts to the other person who was pursuing Anna. That was easier to explain. If Petrescu had stolen the painting, the woman was clearly employed by Fenston to follow her until she found out where the picture was. But how did she always know where Anna would be, and did she now realize that he was also following her? And what were her instructions once she’d caught up with the Van Gogh? Jack felt the only way he could redeem himself was to get a step ahead of both of them and somehow stay there.
He found himself falling into a trap that he regularly warned his junior officers to be wary of. Don’t be lulled into believing that the suspect is innocent. A jury will make that decision for you. You must always assume they are guilty, and occasionally, very occasionally, be surprised. He didn’t remember his instructor saying anything about what to do if you found the suspect attractive. Although there was a directive in the FBI training manual that stated: “Under no circumstances must an agent enter into a personal relationship with any person under investigation.” In 1999 the guide had been updated following a congressional directive, when the words “male or female” had been added before “person.”
But it still puzzled Jack what Anna intended to do with the Van Gogh. If she was about to try and sell the picture in Hong Kong, where would she deposit such a huge sum of money, and how could she hope to benefit from the spoils of her crime? Jack couldn’t believe she was willing to live in Bucharest for the rest of her life.
And then he remembered that she had visited Wentworth Hall.
Krantz sat alone in first class. She always flew first class, because it allowed her to be the last on, and first off, any flight, especially when she knew exactly where her victim was traveling.
But now she was aware someone else was following Petrescu, she would have to be even more cautious. After all, she couldn’t afford to kill Petrescu with an audience watching, even if it was an audience of one.
Krantz was puzzled by who the tall, dark-haired man could be and who he was reporting back to. Had Fenston sent someone else to check up on her or was the man working for a foreign government? If so, which one? It had to be Romanian or American. He was certainly a professional because she hadn’t spotted him before, or after, his crass mistake with the yellow taxis. She assumed he must be an American. She hoped so, because if she had to kill him, that would be a bonus.
Krantz didn’t relax on the long flight to Hong Kong. Her instructor in Moscow was fond of repeating that concentration usually lapsed on the fourth day. Tomorrow.
9/18
31
“THOSE PASSENGERS TRAVELING to onward destinations . . .”
“That’s all I need,” muttered Jack.
“What do you need, sir?” asked an attentive stewardess.
“Transit.”
“Where is your final destination, sir?”
“I have no idea,” said Jack. “What’s the choice?”
The stewardess laughed. “Are you still hoping to travel east?”
“That makes sense.”
“Then it has to be Tokyo, Manila, Sydney, or Auckland.”
“Thank you,” said Jack, thinking, that doesn’t help, but adding out loud, “If I decided to spend the night in Hong Kong, I would have to go through passport control, whereas if I wanted transit . . .”
The stewardess continued to humor him, “When you disembark, sir, there are clear signs directing you to baggage claim or transit. Is your luggage booked through, sir, or will you be picking it up?”
“I don’t have any luggage,” Jack admitted.
The stewardess nodded, smiled, and left to attend to some of her more sane passengers.
Jack realized that once he disembarked he would have to move quickly if he hoped to locate a concealed vantage point from where he could observe Anna’s next move—and not be observed by her other admirer.
__________
Anna stared distractedly out of the cabin window as the plane descended smoothly into Chek Lap Kok airport.
She would never forget her first experience of flying into Hong Kong some years before. To begin with, it felt like a normal approach, and then at the last moment, without warning, the pilot banked steeply and headed straight for the hills. He then descended between the city high-rises, bringing gasps from first-timers, before finally bumping down the short runway into Kow-loon, as if he were auditioning for a part in a 1944 war movie. When the plane came to a halt, several of the passengers applauded. Anna was glad that the new airport meant she would not have to experience a repeat performance.
She checked her watch. Although the flight was running twenty minutes late, her onward connection wasn’t scheduled for another couple of hours. She would use any spare time to pick up a guide to Tokyo, a city she had never visited before.
Once they’d come to a halt at the terminal gate, Anna progressed slowly down the aisle, waiting for other passengers to rescue their bags from the overhead lockers. She looked around, wondering if Fenston’s man was watching her every move. She tried to remain calm, though in truth her heartbeat must have shot above a hundred every time a man even glanced in her direction. She felt sure he must have already disembarked and would now be lying in wait. Perhaps he even knew her final destination. Anna had already decided on the false piece of information she would drop when she next phoned Tina, one that would send Fenston’s man flying in the wrong direction.
Anna stepped off the aircraft and looked around her for the sign. At the end of a long corridor, an arrow directed transit passengers to the left. She joined a handful of travelers heading for other destinations, while the majority of passengers turned right.
When she walked into the transit area, she was greeted by a neon-lit city, half as old as Swatch, lurking in wait for its imprisoned customers to part with their foreign currency. Anna strolled from shop to shop, admiring the latest fashions, electrical equipment, cell phones, and jewelry. Although she saw several items she would have considered in normal circumstances, because of her pecuniary predicament the only shop she thought about entering was a book store displaying foreign newspapers and all the latest best sellers—in several languages. She strolled across to the travel section, to be faced with row upon row of gazetteers of countries as far afield as Azerbaijan and Zanzibar.
Her eyes settled on the section on Japan, which included a shelf devoted to Tokyo. She picked up the Lonely Planet guide to Japan, along with a Berlitz miniguide to the capital. She began to flick through them.
Jack slipped into an electrical shop on the other side of the mall from where he had a clear sight line of his quarry. All he could make out was that she was standing below a large, multicolored TRAVEL sign. Jack would have liked to get close enough to discover which title was causing her to turn the pages so intently, but he knew he couldn’t risk it. He began to count down the shelves in an attempt to pinpoint which country had monopolized her attention.
“Can I assist you, sir?” asked the young lady behind the counter.
“Not unless you have a pair of binoculars,” said Jack, not taking his eyes off Anna.
“Several,” replied the assistant, “and can I recommend this particular model? They are this week’s special offer, reduced from ninety dollars to sixty, while stocks last.”
Jack looked round as the young girl removed a pair of binoculars from the shelf behind her and placed them on the counter.
“Thank you,” said Jack. He picked them up and focused them on Anna.
She was still turning the pages of the same book but Jack couldn’t make out the title.
“I’d like to see your latest model,” he said, placing the special offer back on the counter. “One that could focus on a street sign at a hundred meters.”
The assistant bent do
wn, unlocked the display cabinet, and extracted another pair.
“These are Leica, top-of-the-line, 12 by 50,” she assured him. “You could identify the label on the coffee they’re serving in the café opposite.”
Jack focused on the bookshop. Anna was replacing the book she had been reading, only to pick up the one next to it. He had to agree with the assistant, they were state-of-the-art. He could make out the word Japan and even the letters TOKYO that were displayed above the shelf Anna was taking so much interest in. Anna closed the book, smiled, and headed across to the counter. She also picked up a copy of the Herald Tribune as she waited in the line.
“They are good, yes?” said the assistant.
“Very good,” said Jack, replacing the binoculars on the counter, “but I’m afraid they’re out of my budget. Thank you,” he added, before leaving the shop.
“Strange,” said the girl to her colleague behind the counter. “I never even told him the price.”
Anna had reached the head of the line and was paying for her two purchases when Jack headed off in the opposite direction. He joined another line at the far end of the concourse.
When he reached the front of the line, he asked for a ticket to Tokyo.
“Yes, sir. Which flight—Cathay Pacific or Japan Airlines?”
“When do they leave?” asked Jack.
“Japan Airlines will be boarding shortly, as the flight departs in forty minutes. Cathay’s Flight three-zero-one is due to take off in an hour and a half.”
“Japan Airlines, please,” said Jack, “business class.”
“How many bags will you be checking in?”
“Hand luggage only.”
The sales assistant printed the ticket, checked his passport, and said, “If you proceed to Gate Seventy-one, Mr. Delaney, boarding is about to commence.”
Jack walked back toward the coffee shop. Anna was sitting at the counter, engrossed in the book she had just purchased. He was even more careful to avoid her gaze, as he felt sure she now realized she was being followed. Jack spent the next few minutes purchasing goods from shops he wouldn’t normally have visited, all made necessary by the woman perched on the corner stool in the coffee shop. He ended up with an overnight bag, which would be allowed on board as hand luggage, a pair of jeans, four shirts, four pairs of socks, four pairs of underpants, two ties (special offer), a packet of razors, shaving cream, aftershave, soap, toothbrush, and toothpaste. He hung around inside the pharmacy, waiting to see if Anna was about to move.
“Last call for passengers on Japan Airways Flight four-one-six to Tokyo. Please proceed immediately to Gate Seventy-one for final boarding.”
Anna turned another page of her book, which convinced Jack that she must be booked onto the Cathay Pacific flight leaving an hour later. This time be would be waiting for her. He tugged at his overnight bag and followed the signs for Gate 71. Jack was among the last to board the aircraft.
Anna checked her watch, ordered another coffee, and turned her attention to the Herald Tribune. The pages were full of stories on the aftermath of 9/11, with a report on the memorial service held in Washington, D.C., attended by the president. Did her family and friends still believe that she was dead, or just missing? Had the news that she’d been seen in London already percolated back to New York? Clearly Fenston still wanted everyone to believe she was dead, at least until he got his hands on the Van Gogh. All that would change in Tokyo, if— Something made her look up, and she spotted a young man with thick, dark hair staring at her. He quickly looked away. She jumped off her stool and walked straight across to him.
“Are you following me, by any chance?” she demanded.
The man gave Anna a startled look. “Non, non, mademoiselle, mais peut-être voulez-vous prendre un verre avec moi?”
“This is the first call for . . .”
Two more eyes were also watching Anna as she apologized to the Frenchman, settled her bill, and made her way slowly to Gate 71.
Krantz only let her out of her sight after she’d boarded the plane.
Krantz was among the last passengers to board Flight CX 301. On entering the aircraft, she turned left and took her usual window seat in the front row. Krantz knew that Anna was seated at the back of economy, but she had no idea where the American was. Had he missed the flight, or was he roaming around Hong Kong searching for Petrescu?
32
JACK’S FLIGHT TOUCHED down at Narita international airport, Tokyo, thirty minutes late, but he wasn’t anxious, because he was an hour ahead of both women, who would still be some thirty thousand feet above the Pacific. Once Jack had cleared customs, his first stop was the inquiry desk, where he asked what time the Cathay flight was due to land. In just over forty minutes.
He turned and faced the arrivals gate, then tried to work out in which direction Petrescu would go once she had cleared customs. What would be her first choice of transport into the city: taxi, rail, or bus? She would have to decide after she’d progressed a mere fifty yards. If she was still in possession of the crate, it would surely have to be a taxi. Having checked out every possible exit, Jack handed over five hundred dollars at a Bank of Tokyo booth in exchange for 53,868 yen. He placed the large-denomination notes in his wallet and returned to the arrivals hall, where he watched people assemble as they waited for the most recent arrivals. He looked up. Above him, to his left, was a mezzanine floor, which overlooked the hall. He walked up the stairs and inspected the space. Although the area was cramped, it was nevertheless ideal. There were two telephone booths fixed to the wall, and if he stood behind the second one, he could look down on any new arrivals without being spotted. Jack checked the board. CX 301 was due to land in twenty minutes. Easily enough time for him to carry out his final task.
He left the airport and stood in the taxi line, which was being organized by a man in a light blue suit and white gloves, who not only controlled the taxis but directed the passengers. When he reached the front, Jack climbed into the back of the distinctive green Toyota and instructed a surprised driver to park on the other side of the road.
“Wait here until I return,” he added, leaving his new bag on the back seat. “I should be about thirty minutes, forty at the most.” He removed a five-thousand-yen note from his wallet. “And you can keep the meter running. The driver nodded, but looked puzzled.
Jack returned to the airport to find that Flight CX 301 had just landed. He walked back up to the terrace and took his place behind the second phone booth. He waited to see who would be the first through the door with the familiar green and white Cathay Pacific label attached to their luggage. It had been a long time since Jack had waited to pick up one girl at an airport, let alone two. And would he even recognize his blind date?
The indicator board flicked over once again. Passengers on Flight CX 301 were now in the baggage hall. Jack began to concentrate. He didn’t have long to wait. Krantz was first through the door—she needed to be; she had work to do. She headed for a melee of eagerly waiting locals, who weren’t much taller than her. She nestled in behind them before she risked turning around. From time to time, the patient crowd moved like a slow wave, as some people departed, while others took their place. Krantz moved with the tide so that no one would notice her. But a blonde crew cut standing among a black-haired race made Jack’s task a lot easier. If she then followed Anna, Jack would know for certain whom he was up against.
While Jack kept one eye on the thin, short, muscular woman with the blonde crew cut, he repeatedly turned back to check on the new arrivals that were now swarming through the exit in little clusters, several with green and white labels attached to their luggage. Jack gingerly took a step forward, praying she wouldn’t look up, but her eyes remained doggedly fixed on the new arrivals.
She must have also worked out that there were only three exit routes for Anna to consider, because she was strategically placed to pounce in whichever direction her quarry selected.
Jack slipped a hand into an inside pocket, s
lowly removed the latest Samsung cell phone, flicked it open, and focused it directly toward the crowd below him. For a moment he couldn’t see her, then an elderly man stepped forward to greet his visitor and she was exposed for a split second. Click, then once again she disappeared. Jack continually switched his attention back to the new arrivals, who were still pouring out into the hall. As he turned back, a mother bent down to pick up an errant child and she was exposed again, click, and just as suddenly disappeared from sight. Jack turned to watch as Anna came striding through the swing doors. He closed his phone, hoping that one of the two images would he enough for the tech guys to identify her.
Jack’s wasn’t the only head to turn when the slim, blonde American strode into the arrivals hall pushing a luggage cart with a suitcase and a wooden crate on board. He stepped back into the shadows the moment Petrescu paused to look up. She was checking the exit boards. She turned right. Taxi.
Jack knew that Petrescu would also have to join a long line before she could hope to get a cab, so he allowed both women to leave the airport before he came down from the balcony. When he eventually descended, Jack took a circuitous route back to his taxi. He walked to the far end of the hall and then out onto the sidewalk. He ducked behind a waiting bus on his way to the underground parking lot, then continued along the second row of cars and out of the far end of the garage. He was relieved to see the green Toyota still waiting for him, engine running, meter ticking. He climbed into the backseat and said to the driver, “See the blonde with a crew cut, seventh in the taxi line? I want you to follow her, but she mustn’t know.”
Jack’s eyes returned to Petrescu, who was fifth in the line. When she reached the front, she didn’t climb into the waiting taxi, but turned round and walked slowly to the back of the line. Clever girl, thought Jack, as he waited to see how Crew Cut would react. Jack tapped his own driver on the shoulder, and said, “Don’t move,” when Crew Cut stepped into the back of a taxi, which drove off and disappeared around the corner. Jack knew she’d be parked in a side turning only a few yards away waiting for Petrescu to reappear. Eventually, Petrescu reached the front again. Jack tapped his driver on the shoulder and said, “Follow that woman, stay well back, but don’t lose her.”
False Impression Page 17