He waited until he was back in his hotel before opening the package. There was a small key and the business card of a Birmingham safe-deposit company with a nine-digit identification number on the back. He put the key and the card into his hip-pack, then spent half an hour wandering around Bayswater making sure he wasn’t being followed before catching a black cab to the ops room.
Hansfree was ecstatic. McGovan had apparently moved up a gear and over the past three hours had met with two more Yankees. Hansfree had housed them both – they were low-level jihadi agitators with criminal records who were already known to the authorities.
‘How’s he doing the recruiting?’ asked Harper. ‘That’s what I don’t understand.’
‘Maybe someone else is pointing them at him,’ said Hansfree. ‘They go to him and not vice versa. ISIS sleepers, maybe. Sent here over the past few years and waiting to be activated. By McGovan. Or maybe for McGovan.’
Harper agreed. ‘Maybe he doesn’t do the initiating. They’re told to contact him and he gives them their instructions. Makes sense.’
‘I’m worried by how poor he is at anti-surveillance,’ said Hansfree. ‘He should be better than this, a lot better.’
‘Why worry?’ Harper said. ‘It just makes him easier to follow.’
‘Exactly, but if he’s that careless, it suggests that either he’s not as good as we thought he was, or he isn’t close to going operational. If he was, he’d be taking a lot more care. But however unprofessional and careless he appears to be, we still can’t afford to relax for an instant. If he suddenly switches on and we’re not on our game, the whole operation could be blown. We’ve already worked much too hard and invested too much time to let that happen.’
Hansfree was right. ‘I get the feeling you have a suggestion,’ Harper said.
Hansfree grinned. ‘More people,’ he said. ‘More feet on the ground.’
‘I’m reluctant to increase the size of the team.’
‘Lex, we don’t have any choice. We’re way too stretched as it is.’
Harper sighed. Again, Hansfree was right. And to make matters worse, he was going to have to go to Birmingham the following day on Button’s errand. ‘I’m guessing you have a suggestion, name-wise.’
‘I’ve got a few people I can call, Lex. All first rate, all reliable, all prepared to work on a daily rate of a grand a shift.’
‘They’d have to be reliable. This is heavy shit we’re getting into. Plus, you know what the end-game is going to be. The fewer people who know, the better.’
‘To be honest, without more hands to the pump the end-game could blow up in our faces,’ said Hansfree. ‘We’ve got too many balls in the air and not enough jugglers.’
‘Okay, bring in what you need,’ said Harper. ‘I’ll make sure you get the cash.’ He chuckled. ‘I’m assuming they’ll want cash. And on the subject of being overstretched, I’ve got to go up north tomorrow.’
‘Not a great time, Lex. Seriously.’
‘Nothing I can do,’ said Harper. ‘Favour for a friend.’ He took a Sim card from his pocket and placed it on the table in front of Hansfree. ‘There’s a couple of photographs of a guy who was following me at Charles de Gaulle. I think he’s Russian. See what you can find out, will you?’
‘I’m on it,’ said Hansfree.
CHAPTER 37
Fedkin downed his brandy and waved at the waiter to bring him another. He was sitting at a café overlooking the Eiffel Tower, his collar turned up against the wind that was blowing from the Seine to his left. There was a coffee untouched in front of him, and a cigarette that he’d started but not finished.
The confrontation with Harper had hurt his professional pride, but he had to acknowledge that he had made mistakes. He shouldn’t have used the men Kuznetsov had provided. As soon as he had seen them he should have sent them on their way. They had been amateurs, clearly, and it was Fedkin’s own fault for sticking with them.
Kuznetsov wasn’t happy about what had happened to them, but Fedkin got the impression that it was an inconvenience rather than a personal loss. He had called him to break the news and Kuznetsov had ranted about what a difficult position he was now in, but he had sounded to Fedkin as if he was acting and that behind the bluster the man was aware that he had sent boys to do a man’s job.
The waiter returned with the fresh brandy, the fourth Fedkin had ordered since sitting at the table. He had a decision to make and it was one that was going to require a lot of thought. He lit a cigarette and blew smoke towards the iconic tower. Fedkin wasn’t in the least bit scared by his confrontation with the Englishman. The man was a professional, clearly. The way he had dealt with the Algerians. The way he had stared Fedkin in the eyes as he’d spoken. The body language, the words he’d used, all had indicated that the man had meant exactly what he’d said. If he ever saw Fedkin again, he’d kill him. It hadn’t been a threat, more a statement of intent. And Harper had been absolutely correct when he’d said that personal protection always outweighed financial considerations. When you killed for money you planned everything down to the last detail. You wanted the target neutralised but you needed to make sure you had an escape route and a fallback position. When you killed to protect yourself, you did what you had to do. The consequences were important, yes, but at the end of the day it was self-preservation that mattered.
The contract was worth a million euros. That was big money. The only targets that paid more were heads of state and government officials. Fedkin understood the lust for revenge and had been happy enough to take Lukin’s money, half up front and half on completion of the contract. But Lukin had underestimated the man he wanted dead. Harper wasn’t a simple tourist. He wasn’t a simple anything. And Lukin had given Fedkin the impression that Harper was on the run, which clearly wasn’t the case. Harper was on a mission that involved him travelling to Marbella, Paris and London. Lukin should have known who and what Harper was. And if he did know and hadn’t told Fedkin, that was a serious omission, which could have proved fatal.
The big question was what Fedkin should do next. Harper hadn’t been able to do anything but talk at the airport, not with all the CCTV cameras and armed French cops around. If the confrontation had taken place in a dark alley, things might have been different. Or maybe not.
Harper had recognised Fedkin as a fellow professional and had treated him as such. Fedkin had options. There were almost always options in life, choices that had to be made. Fedkin could ignore everything Harper had said and continue to try to fulfil the contract. He knew where Harper was – London – and his contacts in the UK were as good as they were in France. It wouldn’t take much time or money to track Harper down and try to kill him. Or he could wait until Harper was back in Thailand. But the Englishman would be ready for him and wouldn’t be a soft target. And if Fedkin failed, his own life would almost certainly be forfeit.
He could choose to back out of the contract. He could tell Lukin the truth – that he had failed once and didn’t want to try again. Or he could lie and say that he had simply failed to track the man down, that Harper was an expert at covering his tracks and that Lukin would be better to wait until the Englishman returned to Thailand. In either case Lukin would probably insist on having his money back but that would be no great loss as Fedkin had spent only a few thousand euros so far. The greater loss would be to Fedkin’s reputation: he doubted that Lukin would keep the story to himself. Word would get around that Fedkin had failed and his professional reputation was paramount. Work would soon dry up if clients lost faith in his ability to follow through.
Harper had clearly meant what he had said about killing Fedkin if he ever went near him. And he had been equally convincing when he said that he was going to kill Lukin. There had been no bravado, no bluster. It had been a straightforward statement of fact, no different from telling Fedkin what he planned to have for breakfast the next day. Lukin was well protected and he was no one’s fool, but Fedkin didn’t doubt for one moment that Harper w
ould kill him, and soon. That being the case there would be no more money forthcoming from Lukin: the contract Fedkin had would end with Lukin’s death. If – or, rather, when – Harper killed Lukin, Fedkin’s current predicament would end because no one would know that he had failed, and no one would ask for the return of the half a million euros. His reputation, too, would be intact.
Fedkin nodded thoughtfully. That was the answer, then. All he had to do was nothing. Just wait. Harper would solve everything. The Englishman would kill Lukin, Fedkin’s reputation would be unsullied, and he would get to keep the money. Fedkin finished his brandy and waved at the waiter for another. He smiled to himself, then took a long drag on his cigarette. Life was always so much easier when you dealt with professionals.
CHAPTER 38
Charlotte Button was sitting at a coffee shop in JFK’s Terminal Four. She looked at her watch and frowned. Her flight was closing in less than an hour and she still had to pass through security and Immigration, and even with her Virgin Upper Class ticket it was going to take her the best part of thirty minutes. She picked up her phone but there were no messages and no missed calls.
‘Charlotte, so sorry,’ said a voice to her left. It was Richard Yokely, smartly dressed as always but with a harried expression that was out of character. ‘I was tied up in a meeting and then the traffic was a nightmare.’
‘I’ll have to go fairly soon,’ she said.
‘Nonsense. I’ll walk you through Immigration. You can have the VIP treatment.’
‘You can do that?’
He laughed. ‘Of course I can. And what’s the point of having friends in high places if they don’t make your life easier from time to time?’ He sat down at her table and gestured at her boarding pass. ‘Good choice,’ he said. ‘Unlikely that jihadists would ever try to take down a Virgin plane.’
Button smiled. ‘The joke in England was why would anyone want to fly on a plane that won’t go the whole way. Anyway, thanks for coming to see me off.’ She looked around. ‘Am I …?’
Yokely shook his head. ‘No, you’re good.’
‘Your people are here now?’
‘There are two within fifty feet of you, Charlotte. And don’t even bother looking because they’re the best in the business. It looks to me as if they leave you alone in the States. They just pick you up when you fly back.’
‘So they’re accessing airline manifests?’
‘It isn’t difficult, as you know. Government do it all the time and if you know the right palms to grease …’ He shrugged. ‘There will always be people who think they’re not paid enough and that they deserve to earn a little on the side.’
‘And have you been able to put names to the faces?’
Yokely smiled. ‘Of course. I thought you’d never ask, my dear.’ He took a thumbdrive from his pocket and gave it to her. ‘Password protected. Your month of birth in capital letters plus today’s date.’
Button put the thumbdrive in her pocket. ‘You know it always causes trouble when Americans use dates,’ she said. ‘You mean American style, right? Month, day and year?’
‘Of course.’
‘You realise that America is the only country in the world to do dates like that? Everywhere else goes day, month, year.’
‘Then everywhere else is doing it wrong.’ He gestured at her pocket. ‘Be sure you don’t make a mistake, three strikes and you’re out. The whole disk is wiped.’
‘I’ll be careful,’ she said. ‘And rather than keep me in suspense, can you tell me now who is on my case?’
‘It’s not government, which could be good news or bad,’ said the American. ‘We managed to identify four. Two are Israelis, both former Mossad but now in the private sector. The other two are Brits and work for a private security firm in south London. The Brits are just regular private detectives who do divorce and corporate investigations. The Israelis are more of a worry. But at this point they seem only to be interested in surveillance. There’s no sense that they mean you any harm.’
‘That’s good to know.’
‘Though, of course, that may well change if they think you don’t have your insurance policies.’
‘That’s in hand, Richard.’
‘Good to know,’ he said. ‘Now, how’s the other matter progressing?’
She smiled thinly. ‘Is that the real reason you were so keen to wave me off? Your congressman is getting impatient?’
‘He’s all for sending Delta Force over.’
Button laughed. ‘Well, good luck with that.’
‘I’ve explained to him that we can’t use American special forces to kill British citizens on British soil. If it was out in the desert, it’d be a whole different ball game.’
‘It’s in hand, Richard. McGovan is under surveillance, and as soon as the opportunity presents itself, it will be done.’
‘The sooner the better.’
‘I hear you,’ she said.
‘And what about you?’
‘I’m increasing my insurance. And then I’m going to talk to an old friend. See if she’ll tell me what’s going on.’
‘If you need my help, just whistle.’ He grinned. ‘You know how to whistle, don’t you?’
Button laughed. ‘That was a great movie. I’ve never seen myself as Lauren Bacall but there’s definitely something of the Humphrey Bogart in you.’
Yokely beamed, clearly taking it as a compliment. ‘Here’s looking at you, kid,’ he said, and faked a salute. ‘Now, come on, let’s go get you patted down and on your way.’
CHAPTER 39
Harper drove up to Birmingham early the next morning, taking a circuitous route that saw him in Reading, then Swindon and Gloucester. He took his time and avoided the motorways, doubling back and taking turns sometimes at random. Within an hour he was sure there was no one on his tail, but he still kept off the motorway. He stopped for breakfast at a small café outside Cheltenham, then cut across to Stratford-upon-Avon and spent half an hour driving around the tourist spots before heading up to Birmingham. He finally parked his car in a multi-storey in the city centre, took a small leather briefcase out of the boot, then walked around the major shopping areas, including the Bull Ring, Corporation Street and the Piccadilly and Burlington arcades. During his walk around the shops he paid cash for a MacBook laptop and a nylon carrying case. Eventually he was satisfied that he was tail-free and walked to the building that housed the safe-deposit company. He showed the O’Donnell passport and the business card with the ID number on it, then signed two forms and followed a young man in a pinstripe suit down a flight of stairs to the basement area. There was a large steel door covered by two CCTV cameras and the young man tapped in a four-digit code, then pulled the door open. It was several inches thick but Harper knew that was only for show: if anyone was going to force their way into the vault they’d simply drill through the concrete around the door.
‘Ever been broken into?’ asked Harper, as he followed the man into the vault.
‘Never,’ he said. ‘State-of-the-art security in here. Infrared and motion detectors, and a laser couldn’t get through that door.’
Harper smiled at the mention of lasers. There was no need for anything as hi-tech as a laser: an industrial drill would do the job. The one that had broken into the Hatton Garden Safe Deposit Company had cost just three and a half grand and had done the job in under two hours.
The assistant had a clipboard with a key attached and he used it to open one of the two locks in the flap of a box at about waist height. Harper used his own key to release the second, then the assistant lifted the flap and slid out the long metal box. He carried it out of the vault, closed the door, then took Harper along a corridor to another room, which contained just a metal table. He put the box on the table and pointed at a button to the right of the door. ‘When you’re ready just press that and I’ll come and take the box back.’
‘Brilliant, thanks,’ said Harper. As the man left, Harper looked around the room. There was no
sign of CCTV, which made sense because the whole point of safe-deposit boxes was that the owners wanted the contents kept away from prying eyes. He opened the box and looked inside. There was a stack of fifty-pound notes, a couple of inches thick, a small velvet bag tied with a piece of golden rope that he knew without touching contained sovereigns, half a dozen envelopes, a battered Filofax and a grey thumbdrive. Harper didn’t even think about opening the letters or the Filofax. He took the thumbdrive out of the box and placed it on the metal table. He opened his laptop case and took out the MacBook. It booted up within seconds and he quickly configured it before he plugged in the thumbdrive and copied the file onto the computer’s hard disk. He switched off the computer, put it back into his briefcase and the thumbdrive into the safe-deposit box, then pressed the button to summon the assistant. Half an hour later he was on the motorway, heading south to London.
He left the computer locked in the boot of his car while he went to the internet café and opened the draft message folder. He typed a new message: ALL SORTED. He went to the counter and bought himself a coffee. By the time he had got back to the terminal the message he had written had gone and there was one from Button in its place: YOU’RE AN ANGEL.
He sat down, sipped his coffee, and typed a new message: WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO WITH MY COPY?
She replied a few minutes later: JUST KEEP IT SAFE. YOU’RE MY SAFETY NET.
ARE YOU OK?
I’VE BEEN BETTER.
ANYTHING YOU NEED, JUST ASK. Harper sat back and sipped his coffee again.
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