by John Day
“If I lose this suspect,” Max added “I will investigate you personally.” The man flushed and went silent as he tensed for the next command.
Barclay did a small loop at a pedestrian subway to check if he was being followed. Carla was well up to his game, especially as the man was not well from his wound. Believing he was on his own, he caught a bus. Carla got in the taxi and then followed well behind, to Kensington. When he got off the bus, he did a loop around the area and disappeared into a small block of expensive flats.
“Well, what we do now?” asked Carla. “I don't think we want to get drawn into this any further so just tell the police anonymously so they can pick the man up.”
“Yes! That makes good sense, but it was good fun while it lasted!” Max smiled to himself as he looked at her. Her whole being was changed with the excitement of the adventure. Sex will be hot and hard tonight he thought, it always was when she was hyper like this.
While Max kept watch, Carla made a call from a nearby phone box to the police. She spoke directly to the officer she met in the lobby and minutes later, armed police surrounded the building. Max and Carla were driven back to a street near the Ritz. When they lost sight of the taxi, they walked on to the hotel.
The affair was on television and in the papers. The story reported the apparent murder of Markham, his bodyguard and the explosion. It praised the police for their remarkable response and their determination to track down the perpetrators of this awful crime.
“Well what you know, the man has slipped through their fingers again!” exclaimed Max.
“Doesn't surprise me at all,” smirked Carla, “we should have finished the job we started, I say.”
Max looked away, he knew she wanted to pick up the affair again, but he thought it was best to forget it.
Max decided to report to Sam Leighton, and told him all that had happened. Much to Max's surprise, Sam was keen to brief them both, on the background of the affair, and asked them to help him track down the mystery man. Carla agreed at once and was so fired up with enthusiasm, Max had to go along with her. That afternoon, a man called Nelson Sabatini called at their suite, a tall, well-built man of 32, born somewhere in Italy. He wore a smart, dark grey suit, white shirt, and red silk tie. Even his highly polished lightweight shoes looked fresh out of the box.
After a few pleasantries and introductions, everyone got down to business. Nelson had with him a laptop computer, after plugging into the mains and connecting the broadband connection to the internet, he began to run through the situation.
“The papers taken from Markham, could expose the organisation as well as releasing into the public domain, an important scientific breakthrough, that in the wrong hands, could prove more dangerous than atomic fission. The papers must be recovered at all costs, or even destroyed if necessary, along with any copies, or knowledge of their contents.”
“In other words,” said Max, “kill anyone who has read and understood them.”
“Yes! “Replied Nelson, “that too.”
“The problem is, no one knows where the papers are, or who this mystery man is, who killed Markham,” continued Nelson. “You two are the only people who know what he looks like. We are hoping you can identify him from security photographs taken of passengers flying or sailing from England. We also have copies of information, taken from police records, of the murder and bombing. To save time, we have concentrated on persons who have just bought tickets, for urgent flights. To travel by ship is most unlikely, in view of the need for this man to deliver the papers quickly.”
The screen proceeded to display a shortlist of photos of possible suspects. One face stood out as being the man they had seen in the lift. Moving footage also showed he had a problem using his right hand.
“The man is travelling under the name of Paul Farr. He has bought a ticket to Budapest. If you are sure he is our man,” said Nelson, “I believe he will hand the papers to the Russian Mafia.”
For several minutes, Nelson typed into the computer. The message relayed the news to Sam Leighton. Sam responded by saying he would inform Interpol, so the likely personnel of the Russian Mafia, would be closely shadowed by intelligence agencies, and police, in an effort to catch Paul Farr. Sam made it clear, this was designed to buy time and delay any meeting to hand the papers over. Sam added, a team would be assembled, to include Max and Carla. They were to make their way to Budapest immediately and find Farr. Any further intelligence would be passed to the team, as soon as it came in.
Max was sceptical about picking up what was now a cold trail, but to give up now would be a certain victory for the other side.
Carla asked Nelson if anyone was checking hotel registrations.
“The police will be doing that,” he told her, “as we speak; now we have passed your identification of the man to them.”
“How come you are working with the authorities,” questioned Max.
“We aren't exactly,” said Nelson, “we feed them information as fortuitous leads, or discoveries, and take back what we need to keep ahead.”
“But don't they know you are tapping into their resources?”
“Well, we have provided all the software and systems they use, so we have first pick. We always have, that is why we are so successful in avoiding discovery, in all the civilised countries of the world. We all know they know, and more. Anyway, you had better make your way to Heathrow; your flight is in four hours' time. Make your way to the Gellert Hotel and the team will join you there.”
Chapter - Paul Farr in hiding.
Bob Barclay had planned where he would hide out in Budapest before he left for London. He took a helicopter flight around Lake Balladon and noted small but exclusive properties in secluded settings. Later he used public records to find out more about the residents. He was looking for a particular type of male homosexual.
It would have been so much easier to pick up a girl at a bar and stay with her, but women tend to be inquisitive about their new men friends and he could not afford that. He could, of course, just kill her, but she would quickly be missed, by neighbours and employer.
The certain class of homosexual, he was after, would live alone, have independent means, and not be inclined to be neighbourly.
The recently built bungalow he included on his list was not a traditional design. It had hard, angular lines and lots of concrete. The open garden was simply laid out to lawn, and stark. The owner of the property obviously wanted luxury, exclusivity and no complications in their life. Barclay could not see a hint of a woman’s influence there.
Barclay drove there and on the pretext of seeking directions to a place nearby, was invited in by a man, a bit older than himself. The man was keen to talk and admitted he did not know anyone in the area, although he had lived there for a year. Furniture, photos and the eagerness of the man to develop the conversation, because he never got visitors, was all the proof Barclay needed; he would come back here after his London business. He planned to dispose of the man, and stay in his home, until the exchange of documents was completed.
Chapter - The Budapest meeting.
It was 8am; Max and Carla were in their hotel room when the phone rang from reception, to say eight people were waiting to see them in the conference suite. Max and Carla were to introduce themselves to the team leader, Tony Gal in the conference room.
Immediately, the team laid their plans on how to locate Farr. Apparently, Farr had not booked into any hotel, so, either he was staying with someone, or had his own private accommodation. Everyone agreed that he had probably taken up with some unsuspecting person, and was living with him or her for a few days, until the handover.
Carla spoke. “Perhaps we could look at this from a different angle. Paul Farr is going to be impossible to trace quickly, but perhaps the other party, who will make contact with him, will be easier. At some stage, they will have to meet and hand over the papers, and perhaps payment.”
Tony Gal replied. “Interpol has listed a few persons
who could be Farr’s contact, we are shadowing them now. I guess Farr will be smart enough to spot this, and will have to find a safe way to complete the transaction. It does help us by delaying the transaction, if this is the case.”
Gal’s phone rang and he responded to the caller with a few yes's, and no’s, finally a curt “Thanks,” as he closed the call.
Tony Gal spoke to the team. “Carla, the man you identified as Paul Farr is actually Bob Barclay. We have discovered from our agent in the Russian embassy that a man has recently arrived there. He is a Ukrainian called Kay; unfortunately, we have no records on him. He has no unusual background or obvious ties with the known members of the Russian Mafia. Normally, he would not be of any real interest to us, except that a position was specially created for him after he arrived. He has a simple administration post, at a time when they are overstaffed and sending people, like him, back to Moscow. I think this man is the Mafia contact. The other strange thing is that he has brought with him an envelope with old stamps on, this is worth at least €1.2 million. He keeps it in the office safe.”
Pressing keys on a laptop produced a picture of the envelope and stamps on the screen, courtesy of a Stanley Gibbons publication.
Gal continued, “I believe neither Kay nor Barclay knows each other, if a meeting between them has not already been made, it will be made very soon. With Barclay constantly on the move, and Kay just on the scene, there must be a common link so they can communicate, and set up the exchange. We don't know what this link is or if our target wants the stamped envelope as payment for the papers. So what do we do about that?”
“Simple,” said Max, “we will have to bug his office and keep watch to see what he does.”
“That could work,” said Gal “we know the room Kay works in, and should be able to fit one of our new spy cameras in the room. It has been designed to be undetectable by the usual scanners because it transmits using ultraviolet light. The very faint illumination from the transmission, reflected by surfaces in the room, can be detected by a receiver up to a mile away, provided it can see into the room. We get high definition video and audio to work with. The small button cells that power it will last only 8 hours, but we can replace them every day.”
Another phone warbled, and a team member answered. A few moments later, he pressed a few keys on his laptop and a photo appeared on the screen.
“Now we have a photo of Kay,” said the man.
Everyone studied the photo and Gal said, “Max, with a bit of make-up, you could pass for Kay, you could be there at the handover instead of the real Kay.”
Max was not too keen on that suggestion. Gal sensed his reluctance. “You are on this team aren't you?”
“We will need to borrow the stamped envelope as well,” prompted Carla “and a credible photocopy in colour. You can bet Barclay won't exchange without seeing it.”
“Why do you need the photocopy then,” questioned one of the men? “Well, Max can switch them if he gets the chance, and the original can be returned to the embassy, before anyone notices.”
“I think that can be arranged” said Gal, impressed with the girl's positive contribution. Carla studied the image of the envelope and stamps again, thoughtfully. Max had seen the twinkle of larceny in her eyes before, so he wondered what she might be scheming.
Gal issued instructions to his team. “Lentoff, get our embassy agent to borrow the stamped envelope, we need to make a high quality copy as soon as we can.”
Carla suggested. “I have a refinement to my suggestion as well,” she added, “give me an hour, I will be able to give you a copy stamped envelope to switch with the one at the embassy, so they don't miss the original in the meantime.”
“Good thinking, but be quick, time is running out,” warned Gal.
Carla noted the actual size of the envelope from an internet search and went out to the shops to buy a similar sized and coloured pack of envelopes.
Careful work with scissors, cut away the excess height of the rear part of the somewhat taller new envelope to form the basic full flap of the original style. She didn’t bother with the tearing marks on the glued flap, where the original was first opened. Then she went to the business centre in the hotel and laser printed the image of the valuable envelope over the new envelope. She repeated the process on the rear from another image.
A bit of ageing improved its authenticity, if looked at casually.
She then returned to the meeting, so the bug could be placed in Kay’s office, and the envelope could be substituted for the one in the safe, by one of the team.
Tony Gal was issuing his final instructions as she walked in, “Sol, we need a make-up artist to do the business on Max, get that done straight away! All the rest of us had better leave and stand by for further developments.”
Everyone was impressed with the effective copy of the envelope and thanked Carla for getting it done. Better something that looks like the original than an empty space in the safe they thought.
Everyone set about their tasks with focused urgency; they were all professionals with a strictly civilian background, as good if not better at their work than most government or military agents, and far better paid.
The bug was placed up in the junction of two walls and the ceiling. This diagonal view picked out pretty well all the office, and if the safe was open, its contents, as well. It was camouflaged to look like a large spider was nesting there 3metres above the floor.
That lunchtime, Barclay phoned Kay, using the assumed name of Farr. He confirmed he had the papers, and did Kay have the envelope. Kay glanced over to the open safe and seeing what he expected to be there, said it was.
“I will call at the embassy today at 4pm; I will park nearby in sight of the main entrance so I will see you come out. Turn to the left and keep walking, I will catch up with you. Is that clear?”
“Yes, ” said Kay and Farr ended the call.
All this was picked up by the bug, but with such a weak sound from the earpiece of the telephone, it took an hour to filter out all the background noise, using computer software.
By studying the video, and listening to Kay’s voice, Max found he could imitate him well. It was a great relief to hear he spoke good English with a minimal accent.
Carla and Max had gone back to their room to get Max’s clothes, similar to those Kay wore. Then they went to the makeup man’s studio in the City, across the river from the Gellert Hotel, near the chain bridge.
Rupert was the makeup man, a right pansy if ever there was one. Max hated physical contact with men, but Rupert was so far gone, he was unquestionably a girl. In Max's case, he got on with his challenge and showed no other interest.
Rupert pointed out that even though the typical video and a passport photo of Kay showed a heavier build and was probably slightly taller than Max. Careful choice of clothing from Max's limited wardrobe helped create the right effect, as did an intense expression and aggressive demeanour.
Because of the side effects of his stem cell treatment, Max looked much younger than his real age. Most of his hair had returned, although still grey. A black hair dye and restyling bulked his hair, leaving just a thin patch on top for correction. Individual black hairs were glued in place on Max’s thin spot, sculpted with comb, hot air drier, and scissors.
Carla reported back to Tony Gal and said Rupert had done a remarkably good job, based on the video and photo and was confident Farr would be fooled.
Gal told Carla to go back to the embassy at 3.30pm, get Kay to come down to the lobby and speak to her. She had to tell him the timing had changed.
A thrill ran through her slender body, her eyes hardened as she focused herself for the mission. She knew Farr had already set up a meeting with Kay and he would be on to her if she arranged a new meeting, and then Farr rang again. Unless, she thought, a problem had just developed, and she was just delivering a message. Yes, that was it! Pose as a messenger; get him to go with her, out of the Embassy, and delay him long enough for Max
to return, and come out again at 4pm to keep the appointment with Farr. By the time the real Kay got back to his office, the exchange should be made.
Carla explained this to Tony and Max. They both agreed this was a good plan and to run with it.
At 2pm, Max received the original stamped envelope and compared it with the other copy he had made. They looked remarkably similar now that copies of the stamps had been stuck over the printed image; the raised texture certainly looked like real stamps. Fortunately, the stamps were imperforate, so the classic straight edges were easily cut.
Max put the real envelope in a new envelope for protection and the fake in his left breast pocket.
Carla entered the embassy lobby at 3.30pm and was horrified to see every receptionist had a large queue waiting for attention. How was she going to jump the queue? Looking around, she spotted a security man and made a beeline for him. The young man watched warily as she approached. Her beautiful face broke into a warm smile as she got close; he looked deeply into her fascinating, twinkling blue eyes and suddenly felt nervous. He wanted to chat her up, but duty prevented him.
She spoke in a quiet, confident voice that instantly put him at ease.
“Hi! I really need your help,” she said it as though only he could achieve the miracle she was about to ask for. “It is vital I speak with Mr Kay in person the matter, it is most urgent, can you contact him for me?”
The guard knew he would have to refuse, and refer her to a receptionist; he could not leave his post. Carla changed her smile to an expression of pleading before he could reply. She knew what he was about to say and how to manipulate the poor man. The refusal froze in his brain as he switched from negative thought into positive action. Grabbing her by the arm, he escorted her to the nearest receptionist, placed her at the head of the queue and commanded the startled woman to phone Comrade Kay immediately, the matter was of the utmost importance. The guard turned to face the Carla, winked cheekily and strode back to his post.