by John R McKay
He had been scanning the square occasionally, looking out for any sign of Cooke but as yet he had seen nothing. He was only acting on a hunch anyway as there was no guarantee that Cooke, if he was still in Paris, was actually staying at the Hotel de la Sorbonne. In fact he could be anywhere. He had the resources now to stay wherever he liked so why would he choose a small hotel in a narrow back street?
He suddenly felt as though someone was watching him. A strange sixth sense was telling him that he was currently being observed and it unnerved him. He looked around, up the Rue Victor Cousin then around the square and then back up the northerly direction of the road. This quick perusal revealed nothing and he could see no-one taking any interest in him. Maybe he was being paranoid. Either way, he was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable and so he thought he would give it another couple of minutes and then he would make a move.
With a quick glance at his watch, to pacify the waiter that he had given up on his imaginary friend, he walked toward the Hotel de la Sorbonne. Slowly, so as not to draw any attention, he approached the doorway of the hotel and contemplated going in and enquiring at reception after Danny Cooke. If it was discovered that Cooke was elsewhere then he would give up and get the next train to Amsterdam and meet up with Ivan.
As he stepped forward to enter the hotel he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks with shock.
‘Sean Lange! Sean Lange!’
Someone, he knew not who, was shouting his name. He stepped out of the hotel entrance and looked up the road toward the junction with the Rue Cujas.
He could see no-one.
#
Danny had ran from the corner of the Place de la Sorbonne and Boulevard Saint-Michel to the Rue Cujas where he had then entered the hotel.
From the window in his hotel room he could see down the Rue Victor Cousin toward where the man he thought was maybe Sean Lange was standing. He was still there, leaning against the stone pillars of the university. Danny opened the window and closed the curtains slightly, allowing himself to view the man without being seen himself.
For a few minutes the man did not move. He stood scanning the area and the more Danny looked at him, the more he convinced himself that the man he was looking at was the same man who had tried to kill him two days ago. His features may have looked different, in truth he could not be certain from such distance, but his frame and size were exactly the same.
After a while the man looked at his watch and then set off along the Rue Victor Cousin in the direction of Danny’s hotel. It seemed he was walking straight toward him. Taking a deep breath Danny pulled back slowly from the window and stood behind the curtain, his heart racing and sweat beginning to form at his brow. He could also feel perspiration on the back of his neck and he wiped it away with the palm of his hand. If he was honest with himself, he had never been so scared in all his life.
Curiosity got the better of him and he slowly moved his head to the edge of the curtain, allowing him to see what was happening outside in the street below. The man had stopped at the entrance to the Hotel de la Sorbonne and it looked as though he was contemplating going in. Before Danny could stop himself, he leaned toward the open window and shouted at the top of his voice: ‘Sean Lange! Sean Lange!’ He then withdrew sharply to the side, once more out of view from anyone outside.
He counted to five in his head and then again slowly edged to the side to see if there had been any kind of reaction. The man he thought could be Sean Lange was standing in the middle of the Rue Victor Cousin frantically looking from side to side. After a couple of seconds he turned on his heel and headed back away from where Danny stood, in the window observing him. After a few steps, Sean Lange, for it had now been confirmed to Danny that it was definitely him, broke into a run and was soon out of sight as he escaped into the Latin Quarter.
‘That’s it,’ said Danny contemptuously as he watched him disappear from view. ‘Run you bastard!’
#
‘Danny calm down,’ shouted Julie Green into the telephone. ‘Tell me again what’s happened. I can’t understand you.’
Julie was sitting in her car having just parked at the shopping centre. She had given up on work and was buying some last minute things for her holiday which was now less than two days away. As she had pulled into the parking space her mobile phone had rung and on answering it an over-excited Danny Cooke had shouted some garbled message about Lange and him about to eat a steak dinner.
‘Just calm down Danny,’ she repeated. ‘Take a breath and tell me slowly what’s going on.’
‘It’s Lange,’ said Danny. ‘I’ve just seen him. Near my hotel.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. I shouted to him and he ran away once he knew someone was watching him.’
‘You did what?’ said Julie, aghast. ‘Why in God’s name did you do that?’
‘Because I wasn’t sure if it was him or not, that’s why. I had to be sure.’
‘Did he see you?’
‘No. Once he knew that someone was on to him he legged it.’
‘Jesus, Danny. You’re playing a dangerous game. Where are you now?’
‘In that hotel I told you about. It’s down the road from the one I stayed in on Thursday night. The one Lucy and I used to use. I’m sure he was about to go in. Probably looking for me.’
Julie sighed. ‘I wonder how he knew where to look. I don’t think it could have been Holbrook playing at spies for him this time. I told you he was a professional. He’s obviously very resourceful.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘A couple of days ago he was on the run with no wallet, no money or any means of knowing where you were. Two days later he turns up in a foreign country, hot on your heels, to coin a phrase. And the fact that we, the police, knew nothing about him until a few days ago. In fact, the Met lads who interviewed him about the CCTV footage we had of his car pretty much described him as a harmless nerd. He clearly knows what he’s doing. The big mistake he’s made was involving someone else in Lucy’s murder. That’s where he’s ballsed up and it’s snowballed from there. It looks like he’s trying to make amends for that, so to speak.’
‘You’re scaring me now,’ said Danny. ‘I’d never thought of that.’
‘Do you think he saw you?’
‘No,’ replied Danny. ‘I don’t think so. He just left in a bit of a hurry. He could be anywhere now.’
‘OK. You need to get back over here like I said before.’
‘No Julie,’ Danny replied with a sigh. ‘This needs to end.’
Julie sighed too. ‘I’m not going to persuade you to come back am I?’
‘Nope.’
After a pause Julie said: ‘OK Danny. If you won’t come back over here, then I’m coming over to you.’
‘No way,’ he replied. ‘I can’t have you doing that. It’s not fair.’
Ignoring him, she continued. ‘I am on leave right now. I’m supposed to be flying to Greece on Monday with my friends but I can get another flight and meet them a few days later. Shush, don’t interrupt. I’ll speak to my boss and the people from the Met who are liaising with the French police and we’ll get it squared off.’
‘I can’t have you abandoning your plans on account of me. And anyway you shouldn’t be coming over here if he’s as dangerous as you say.’
‘Danny. I’m a police officer. I’ve had a lot more training in handling criminals than you have, believe me. If you aren’t prepared to come back then I’ll have to come over to you. If you want an end to this then let’s make it happen.’
‘This needs to end Julie,’ said Danny. ‘You can appreciate that can’t you?’
‘Of course I can,’ she replied. ‘But you should leave it to the professionals. The French police should be able to find him. His photograph’s been circulated to them and now that there’s been a positive sighting I’m sure they’ll pick him up at a train station or the airport. I can’t see him hanging around now that he knows we know where he is.
’
‘Maybe. But then I suppose I’ve just confirmed to him that I’m here and that could make him want to carry on. If he’s as resourceful as you say he is, then having a few bobbies looking for him won’t worry him. He escaped our lot easily enough.’
‘Danny,’ said Julie. ‘I’ll be on the next available flight.’
#
Sean Lange sat in his hotel room and lay on the bed with his eyes closed, thinking.
He had taken a room in a small hotel in the Latin Quarter under the name of Jonathan Baker, the name on the passport he was currently using. The hotel was only a few hundred metres, as the crow flies, from the Hotel de la Sorbonne and so it had only taken him five minutes to get to the sanctuary of his room.
He leaned back and rested his head on the pillow and tried to make his mind go blank. He had to try to clear it in order for him to be able to think and plan his next step.
Someone had clearly shouted his name and Lange could only presume it was one person. Danny Cooke. So, he asked himself, how would Cooke know that he was in Paris looking for him? The only answer he could come up with was that ‘Roger’, whoever the hell he really was, had been picked up and told the police.
So therefore, Lange presumed, the French police would be aware that he was in Paris and they would be on the lookout for him which meant that he had to be even more careful now. He could abandon the idea of killing Cooke and get to Amsterdam and the relative safety that Ivan could provide for him. Then again, Cooke had to be very close by. If he had been in police protection then surely the police would have given chase. So he had to presume that Cooke, up until at least ten minutes ago, was on his own.
He sat up suddenly and grabbed the map of Paris that he had purchased at the airport and laid it out on the bed in front of him. He quickly located the Rue Victor Cousin and the Place de la Sorbonne and made a mark on the map with a pen at the location where he had been standing, when he had waited unsuccessfully for Cooke to show himself. He then marked the spot where the Hotel de la Sorbonne was located.
He studied the map further. Whoever had shouted at him had managed to keep well hidden and he was sure it came from the direction of the Rue Cujas. However, he could have been mistaken as the Rue Victor Cousin was very narrow with tall buildings and it was possible that the acoustics of the place could have thrown the noise. Possible, he thought, but highly unlikely.
So, if he could conclude that whoever it was had been hiding somewhere in that direction, then where exactly could he have been hiding? An alleyway or a doorway somewhere along the road perhaps? Probably not, he thought. If Cooke was alone, with no police back up, then there was no way he would have exposed himself so easily. He must have been well hidden.
Maybe Cooke had shouted from the safety of another hotel room. A room where he could stay unsighted from anyone halfway down the Rue Victor Cousin.
Lange had another idea. He left the room and went down to the hotel lobby. There was a small area with a computer where a couple of Euros would buy ten minutes on the internet and luckily there was no-one using it.
He sat down and put in a couple of coins. Quickly he clicked on to Google Maps and found the Rue Victor Cousin. Using Street View, he selected the location of the Hotel de la Sorbonne and used the directional arrows to look up the street. He smiled to himself. This was much safer than actually going back.
He clicked along the street, the image changing slightly in front of him each time he did so, and soon enough he was at the junction of the Rue Cujas. Facing him was a hotel, the Grand Hotel Saint Michel. The hotel had rooms above the reception area that provided a view right down the Rue Victor Cousin, even as far as the doorway to the Sorbonne, where Lange had stood for so long earlier.
‘You sneaky little shit,’ Lange said to himself with a smile.
Returning to his room Lange had to think quickly. There was no point making an attempt straight away. If Cooke had any sense then he would have reported the sighting to the police and they would be swarming all over the place by now. It was probably not even a good idea to leave the sanctuary of his hotel for a while as he was very close to where Cooke was possibly staying. Even though he knew where he probably was right at this minute, Cooke could again change hotels and move somewhere else and if he did that there was really nothing he could do.
Then Lange made a decision. He would lie low for tonight in the hotel room and then he would change his appearance once more and try again tomorrow. Yes, he thought, one more go at him and if any more problems occurred, then he would finally give it up.
He picked up his mobile phone and dialled Ivan’s number. He would have to tell him he would be a further twenty four hours late. Not too much of a problem he hoped.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The waiter was polishing glasses and cleaning teacups when the door opened and a man he recognised walked in. It was the same Englishman who had been in his cafe a couple of days ago, the one with the sad eyes who used to come in with his pretty girlfriend, or wife, or whoever she was, when visiting Paris in the past. There was something about this man that made the waiter feel melancholy. He had looked troubled the other day and he looked even more so this morning.
Putting down the teacup and using a towel to wipe his hands he looked over as the man sat down at a table next to the window, the same place he had sat the other day. He was the only customer in the café. It had been a quiet morning, but then, he thought, it was still quite early. He caught the man’s eye.
‘Bonjour Monsieur,’ he said. ‘Nice to see you again. Can I get you anything?’
‘Bonjour,’ said the Englishman. ‘Could I have a white coffee please? Oh and a menu.’
‘Mais oui,’ replied the waiter turning to the coffee machine behind him.
Danny looked out of the window. He had received a text from Julie Green late the previous night. It had simply said: ‘Just landed. Finding digs. Will meet up in the morning. Where’s best?’ Danny had replied with the address of the café, not far from the hotel.
Danny had been extremely anxious on the short walk from the hotel to the café, worrying that at any point Sean Lange may make an appearance. His worries had been unfounded as nothing had happened and he had seen no-one that had given him any cause for suspicion. Two detectives from the Surete had visited him at the hotel the previous evening and had tried to persuade him to return home, but again he had declined. He just wanted this over. They had told him that they were doing all in their power to find Lange but Danny was left with the impression that they thought he was being paranoid and that Lange could be anywhere, maybe not even in Paris. He had not been left reassured. In the end Danny had been too tired and distracted to change hotels but fully intended to do so that day.
He had chosen a table by the window for two reasons. The first, to keep an eye out for Julie Green arriving and the second, to watch out for any signs of Sean Lange.
He did not have long to wait before a taxi pulled up outside the café and Julie Green got out after paying the driver. She was wearing jeans, a blue top and a black jacket and her blonde hair was held back from her face with an Alice band. She is very pretty, he thought when he saw her.
As the taxi pulled away, she put her purse back into her small black handbag and then looked around, searching for the café where Danny had arranged to meet. He waved at her through the window and upon seeing him she waved back before entering the building.
‘Hi Julie,’ he said standing up. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine,’ she replied. ‘Sorry I’m a bit late. I had to stop off at a little place I know just off the Champs Elysees to get something for my handbag. Anyway, more to the point, how are you?’
‘I’m OK I suppose,’ he said sitting back down, frowning slightly. ‘I wasn’t aware you were late….. I’ll just be glad when all this is over.’
‘Me too,’ she said. ‘Then I can get to that beach!’
Danny suddenly felt selfish and embarrass
ed. ‘I’m so sorry about that,’ he said sheepishly. ‘You must think I’m a right git.’
She smiled at him. ‘Don’t be daft. It was my decision to come over here.’
‘What did your boss say?’
‘He thinks I’m an idiot. He said I should leave it to the French police and to get you to come back home. He hasn’t endorsed this little trip so I’m acting completely off the range for this. As far as he’s concerned I’m on leave and what I do on my leave is totally up to me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Danny. ‘I didn’t want to get you into any trouble.’
She smiled at him. ‘Like I said, it was my decision so stop fretting about it. Anyway, I’ve some things I need to tell you. I spoke to DI Wilson at the Met last night, before I got on the plane.’
‘Is he the one who spoke to me in London?’
‘Yes that’s right. He told me that Simon Holbrook has admitted to using Lange for certain jobs for MI5. He won’t reveal what those jobs were but from what Wilson is telling me his superiors had no idea what he was doing. Sean Lange is not on any payroll so they think he was acting independently, for his own ends.
‘Simon Holbrook holds a high position and those under him did his bidding without much question, providing him with information on all sorts of things, including you. He is in deep, deep shit, believe me. He’s insisting that he didn’t ask Lange to kill you, just to take possession of the package that Sir Peter had left for you. Wilson doesn’t believe him. The thing is, we need to get Lange. If we can capture Lange then no doubt he will be able to confirm or deny what Holbrook is saying, should he wish to talk that is.’