Counterfeit (The Jim Slater series Book 2)

by Stanley Salmons

  I ran another twenty metres, then risked a quick look. The fake policemen were standing at the edge of the road, still firing at the car. I checked the rifle quickly. It was an FN Herstal but I couldn’t be sure of the sighting so I played safe. They were just beginning to look around when I stood up and fired a burst that stitched them across at chest height. They folded to the ground.

  I jerked my head round to the SUV. With all the noise I hadn’t heard the rear door open but it had, and there was Abby, making a run for it while the others were distracted. My heart lodged up in my throat.

  Cover, she needs cover!

  I vaulted out of the ditch and ran towards the SUV, raking it with fire. The headlights shattered and the windscreen fell in. Abby had almost reached the field. If she could make it as far as that dense growth of sugar cane she’d have a chance. I continued to fire in short bursts. Then I heard the double cough of a pistol. Abby’s arms flew out and she fell.

  I was up to the vehicle now. The guy in the back must have seen me coming and got down on the floor. Lying there, he’d leaned out with the pistol. I kicked the door hard. It bounced on something and I heard a cry of pain, then I was round it and firing down into the rear compartment. I kept on firing until the hammer clicked on an empty magazine. A blood-soaked arm dropped limply down.

  I ran over to Abby. A red stain was spreading across her back. It was bad – I’d known that from the way she fell. I turned her gently, cradled her in my arms. She looked up at me and her lips formed “Jim”.

  “Shhh. Abby, hang in there.”

  She smiled. Her voice was a whisper. “It’s all right, Jim. It doesn’t hurt.”

  A chill ran through me.

  “Abby, I’m so sorry…”

  “No regrets, Jim. No regrets.”

  “Abby…!”

  Her lips parted and the beautiful blue eyes glazed over.

  I sat there, numb at first, then incandescent with rage.

  Vlasov!

  I laid her down and ran over to the other side of the road. My rental car was lying half in and half out of the ditch, riddled with bullet holes, the front wheel at a crazy angle, the shaft obviously broken in the impact. I whirled towards the SUV, but that wouldn’t get me far either; steam was writhing through the vents on either side of the bonnet and a black puddle of oil was spreading into the dust. I turned and looked down the road where the limousine had disappeared.

  SHIT!

  This isn’t the end of it, Vlasov, you lousy bastard! By Christ, you’re going to pay for this!

  I walked over to where the two hoods in police uniform had fallen and searched their pockets. I wasn’t expecting to find anything and I didn’t. Looking at the two of them lying there set me thinking.

  The pattern of this meeting had been different. In Delhi, Vlasov had come in with just one car and two bodyguards in civvies. Here he’d got a second vehicle and four men, two of them in fake police outfits. Why? There was only one explanation: someone had tipped him off.

  Who else knew Abby was coming here?

  Now wasn’t the time to think about it. I was miles from anywhere without a serviceable vehicle. I had to get out of the country and I had to expatriate Abby. Unfortunately I couldn’t leave in any conventional way. I needed help, and I needed it badly.

  Harken had got me out of a situation like this once before; maybe he could do it again.

  I switched on my phone. There was no time to think about what time it was there, I just knew it must be early. I tried the secure line in his office. He answered immediately.

  “Harken.”

  “Wendell, it’s Jim. I’m in the Philippines. I have a problem. I’m afraid I had to attack a security guard at the airport and I’ve killed three hoods who were working for Vlasov so it’s going to be a bit hard for me to get out of here without some help.”

  “Jim….”

  “That’s not all. Wendell, I was too late. They got Abby.”

  “She’s dead?”

  “Yeah. I saw them lift her at the airport. I gave chase but they shot her.”

  There was a momentary pause. “Is there an LZ around or is it a winch job?”

  Typical Harken: shocked for one millisecond, then all business.

  “There’s a field of sugar cane on one side of the road, but there’s some sort of vegetable on the other. It looks flat enough for a RotoFan to land.”

  “Give me your coordinates.”

  I spoke “GPS” to the phone, then “Send coordinates”.

  “All right. Wait on the line. I’ll see who can get out to you.”

  I waited and the minutes ticked by. Then:

  “You there, Jim?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Look, the nearest I can manage is a SEAL unit on Taiwan.”

  I wasn’t crazy about SEAL units but I was in no position to choose.

  “Can they leave right away?”

  “Yes, but they’ll have to refuel en route. It’s going to take a few hours. Can you hold out that long?”

  I checked my watch. They might just make it before nightfall – not that it mattered. They had the coordinates and that Rotofan would be equipped with night vision and infra-red scanners. Two wrecked vehicles, a tangle of bodies, and one bright spot on their infra-red would get their attention.

  “Yes.”

  “All right. They’ll get you back to Taiwan and arrange repatriation from there.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  His voice softened. “Jim, I’m sorry about Abby.”

  “Yeah.” I sucked my breath in between my teeth. “Someone’s got to tell the Surgeon General the member of staff he allocated to us has been killed.”

  “Bob will deal with it.”

  “Wendell, when you talk to Bob, will you tell him something? I want the gloves off. I’ve got the whole racket sussed now. It’s not just Gerasim Vlasov. Leon Vlasov’s involved up to the hilt. Those bastards almost certainly killed Ridout and now they’ve killed Abby. They’ve got to be stopped. I want a formal SAF mission.”

  I heard the sigh. “I’ll mention it, Jim, but I’m not hopeful.”

  The line went dead.

  I went back to where Abby was lying and drew her into the shade of the sugar cane. Then I sat down, cross-legged, beside her. Yet another casualty in this bloody business, someone else to mourn, and this one dearer to me than all the rest. She was still wearing the CIA camera-brooch, the one she’d loved so much. It occurred to me she might have snatched some photos – for what that was worth now. In any case the CIA techs wouldn’t want their gadget to fall into the wrong hands. I unfastened the brooch; then I eased the ring off her finger and put both in my shirt pocket. For a moment I paused, just looking at her, trying to tell myself it hadn’t happened. I lifted one limp hand and pressed the fingertips – still warm – to my lips. Now the grief that had been lapping at me like a black tide rose up. I felt the increasing weight of it on my chest and I lifted my head and howled at the sky. Then I held her hand to my cheek, rocked back and forth, and cried like a baby.

  33

  I slumped in the chair, looking across the desk at Harken.

  “The Surgeon General’s looking after the arrangements for Abby’s funeral,” he said. “The Service wants to honour her so she’ll be buried at Arlington. That’s permitted because she was killed in action while allocated to one of the Armed Forces. The family’s agreed but they’re very distressed. They’d like to keep the thing as private as possible.”

  I grunted. “You’re saying I shouldn’t go.”

  “I can’t stop you, but it would be kinder not to.”

  I nodded weakly. “What did Bob say about mounting an operation against the Vlasovs?”

  “I think you know the answer to that already. People have their suspicions about Gerasim Vlasov but they still have nothing solid on him. His brother Leon’s a personal friend and adviser on trade matters to the Russian President. If we went after either of them now it would as good as shut do
wn the talks, ruin months of work, and set back relations with the Russian Union ten years. All this at a time when China’s influence is expanding year on year. Bob doesn’t like it much either, but he says it’s a matter of keeping an eye on the bigger picture. Sorry, Jim. I know how you feel, but there’s nothing we can do.”

  I sighed. It was no more than I’d expected. “I suppose you told Bob I witnessed Abby being killed by Vlasov’s people?”

  “Yes. It doesn’t change anything. He was sorry to hear about Abby, of course, but actually not that surprised. He thought all along she was taking a big chance, going after Vlasov on her own like that.”

  “I know, but…” I looked blankly at him for a moment, and a tingling sensation drilled out through my limbs. I sat up straight.

  “You mean he knew? He knew she was out there?”

  Harken’s eyebrows lifted.

  “Well yes. In fact he called shortly after you phoned from San Francisco, asked me if there’d been any developments. I told him.”

  “Why? Why did he want to know?”

  “Oh, Ted Zander and the Deputy Secretary of State have been pestering him. They had the feeling someone might screw things up. You know, Jim, when you reported to them on the African mission you made quite an impression, and it wasn’t wholly favourable. It seems they regard you as a loose cannon.” He gave me a wry smile. “I’d have to say it’s not an entirely unfair assessment.”

  “So Bob knew, and Ted Zander knew, and Helena Brooke-Masters knew. Wonderful! I said I didn’t want people to know where I was going.”

  “Bob’s top of the chain, Jim – he had every right to know!”

  I got to my feet. “You know something? The security in this place has more holes in it than a bloody sieve!”

  I stormed out and took the path back to my office, burning with helpless anger.

  I could see it so clearly now: Helena Brooke-Masters, Deputy Secretary of State, wedded to her political accords; Ted Zander, Secretary for Commerce, desperate to save his precious trade agreement. Both of them terrified I’d do something to jeopardise their talks with the Russians. They must have put real pressure on Bob to keep a close eye on what we were doing and Bob duly obliged by reporting back them.

  Ted Zander’s the weak link; he either doesn’t know or doesn’t care what George is up to and he tells him whatever he wants to know. Oh, George has his sources, all right – and none better than his old college friend.

  Abby didn’t stand a chance. The moment George learnt where she’d gone he passed the information to the Vlasovs. He sacrificed her to make sure his own nasty deal with them would go through.

  One thing’s clear: Bob’s hands are tied – he can never authorise action against the Vlasovs. “A matter of keeping an eye on the bigger picture.” Well, fuck the bigger picture. What about Abby? What about Mark Ridout? And David, and Fergy, and the rest of the Colombian team? What does the bigger picture mean to them?

  I kicked viciously at a pebble, sending it flying off the path.

  Nothing we can do? Nothing official, maybe.

  *

  Back in my office I sat behind the desk, my chin in my hands, staring into space. The anger had dissipated; I was coming to terms with the bitter reality.

  Maybe I’d been a bit hard on poor Harken. What can a guy do when he’s put in that position? If he refuses to say, then he’s insubordinate; if he doesn’t know, then he’s incompetent. Either way he gets replaced. I guess he didn’t really have a choice.

  A feeling of emptiness descended on me. I tried to focus but my mind kept drifting back. I squeezed my eyes tight shut and shook my head.

  Abby, Abby…

  Why did I have to involve her? Someone as fiercely independent as that would be sure to run into trouble sooner or later. Why couldn’t I see it coming?

  If only I’d taken her with me to Atlanta. At least she’d have been safe with me there instead of the Philippines. Even then I might have got to her sooner if I’d flown from LA or Vancouver. Two hours I wasted at San Francisco, kicking my heels in the departure lounge with a fog rolling around outside! I should have been at General Santos, watching Vlasov come in with his heavies and fake policemen. I’d have smelt trouble.

  If…if…if. The thoughts went round and round. I was torturing myself – and I knew it. There was only one way I’d ever be able to move on: I had to take direct action. But how to manage it when all our political masters were shaking their heads?

  *

  My gaze settled on the electronic clock/calendar. It was Friday. The Cuprex Board met on Monday. How had it gone? Keller would know. I reached for the phone.

  “Hey, Jim, glad you called. Some news for you – they got Ridout’s killer!”

  My voice was flat. “That’s great, Max. Who is it?”

  “Girl called Christine Stapledon.”

  “Do they have evidence?”

  “Oh yeah, heaps. They won’t tell me what they’ve got right now, of course, but I guess they’ll dig out the Russian connection and everything. They made the arrest already. Thanks for helping me out on this one, Jim, but it looks like we can close the book on it.”

  “Fine.”

  “Jim, you okay?”

  Abby wasn’t his problem. He didn’t even know her.

  “I’m all right. What about you, Max? Now Ridout’s dead, are you still in a job?”

  “For the moment, yes. George van der Loos is the senior Board member, so he’s taken over as interim CEO. I had a word with him, told him he could be the next target, so now he wants me and my team to be his bodyguards.”

  “What happened at the Board meeting?”

  “I gather it more or less went through. They thought the offer undervalued the company but they agreed to let George examine it with the company lawyers. ’Course, if he sells out to the Russians then I will be out of a job.”

  I thought for a moment. I’d perceived a tiny window of opportunity.

  “You still there, Jim?”

  “Yeah. Listen Max, Cuprex mustn’t fall to the Russians, right? You don’t want it, I don’t want it, and the US government sure as hell doesn’t want it. Now sooner or later George will need to negotiate directly with Vlasov. When he sets that up you’ll be one of the first to hear, because you’ll be going with him. Will you keep me in the loop?”

  “Sure, no problem.”

  “Good. By the way, did you get the post mortem results on Mark Ridout?”

  “Yeah. Death from asphyxiation. No signs of violence so it was almost certainly some sort of nerve poison. It paralysed him. The poor guy couldn’t breathe.”

  “Do they have time of death?”

  “The ME said between 1 am and 5 am.”

  “Not earlier?”

  “No, the room was temperature-controlled and the body was naked, so the Examiner could be reasonably sure of the time limits.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Max, we’ll be in touch. And don’t forget to let me know when that meeting comes off.”

  *

  I flew down to Atlanta in full uniform wearing all my ribbons. I thought it might carry more weight.

  “She came to my room around midnight,” I said. “I know that because I was still up, watching the news on holovision.”

  The three Federal agents faced me across the table. The guy in the middle had a kind of sleepy expression. I knew he was the one I’d have to watch. Apart from the table and chairs the interviewing room was unfurnished.

  “So why didn’t you come forward before?” Sleepy-eyes asked.

  “Look, I’m not particularly proud of what happened. I only knew the girl because I went to break the news her boyfriend had been killed in active service. I thought we had some sort of rapport, nothing more. But you can see the kind of girl she is. Men take advantage of her. She thought she could trust me.” I bit my lip. “I turned out to be no better than the others.”

  The one on the left said, “What were you doing in the hotel anyway?”

  “Ma
x Keller and I know each other. He was supposed to look after Mark Ridout and he wanted a little help. He thought something was going to happen and he was right, of course. When Max told me Chrissie had been taken into custody I realised I couldn’t keep quiet any longer – you know, about what happened between us.”

  “Did you tell Max?”

  “No, he didn’t have a clue. He still doesn’t know. Like I say, I didn’t want it spread around.”

  Sleepy-eyes took up the questioning again. “So she came to your room. How did she seem to you?”

  “She was mad as hell. Seems she had something going with Mark Ridout. She’d gone up to his suite and they’d had some champagne and they were just about to get into bed when his phone went. The guy always put business before pleasure. She isn’t used to that kind of treatment, so she stormed out. She didn’t know who to come to so she came to me.”

  “And what happened after that?”

  “Well, she was still hot – I mean, really hot. We made love. And then again, several times that night. She left my room around seven a.m., while there weren’t too many people around to notice.”

  I saw them look at each other.

  “Look,” I said innocently, “I don’t know if this makes any difference to you, but I thought you should know. From what she told me, Ridout was alive when she left him.”

  Sleepy-eyes looked hard at me. “How come she didn’t tell us about you? It would have given her an alibi.”

  “Seems she gets into bed with some pretty important people. It’s something to do with this charity she works for. Anyway, she’d be no use to anyone if she couldn’t keep her mouth shut, so she does.”