Hunting for Caracas

by Anthony Fox

  ‘I’m in,’ he said, holding the walkie-talkie to his mouth.

  ‘Fantastic. Roger that,’ came Kemi’s words back through.

  Even in this most pressurised of situations, she still conveyed a genuine happiness in her voice.

  Connelly put on a pair of green surgical rubber gloves and quickly moved out into the room. After a quick look around he went to the bathroom. There he found an empty medicine cabinet, a bath tub with a wooden front panel, an ugly yellow shower curtain, and nothing else of interest.

  He moved back into the bedroom. Found Luque’s travel bag filled with clothes.

  He wasn’t carrying a bag when he landed at the airport.

  Connelly carefully checked through the bag for anything useful but came up empty.

  ‘How’s it looking?’ Kemi’s voice broke the silence.

  ‘Like he’s ready to take off at a moment’s notice,’ replied Connelly into the walkie-talkie. He pulled a GPS tracker – a small, black button barely bigger than a pinhead – from his pocket, squeezed it between his fingers until a small pop told him it was activated, and stuck it on the inside of the bag.

  ‘Tango-one just lit up,’ said Kemi.

  Connelly continued with a more thorough search. He still hadn’t found a passport, a wallet, a gun, or Luque’s personal phone. Could Luque be carrying all these items with him?

  Connelly checked every space, tested for loose floorboards, and eventually came to rest on one knee on the floor. He used the other to support the hand with the walkie-talkie. Listened to the silence and took a second to think. Luque could hide things in any of the other rooms if he wished. Yet Connelly knew people always kept the things most important to them close by. Luque was packed and ready to run at the first sign of any trouble.

  Connelly collected his own rucksack and went back to the bedside table. With the screwdriver from his Leatherman he removed the cover from the telephone, then he removed a small metal box from his backpack. Inside, the metal box was padded with black foam to carefully protect the small electronic listening device it contained. The bug was about the size of a bottle lid. It clicked straight into place on top of the circuit board. He replaced the cover and spoke to Kemi. ‘Tango-fiver in place.’

  ‘Roger. Better hurry.’

  Connelly removed another small box from his backpack, this one containing a portable camera. The device was much smaller even than the ones they’d fitted opposite Innsbruck airport. It only worked over a short range but would be more than adequate for monitoring Luque in his room.

  Connelly’s thoughts should have been on installing the camera, but they were elsewhere. His gut told him there was something hidden and if Luque was planning for the worst, he’d keep it in the same room he slept in. Connelly had checked for loose floorboards under every piece of furniture. The walls were stone, the ceiling was one smooth finish. The bathroom was empt...

  Connelly quickly got up, keeping hold of the Leatherman but putting the camera on the bedside table and went over to the bathroom. He headed straight over to the bath and knelt down in front of it. One close look at the screws that secured the wood panel covering to the front of the bath made his heart jump an extra beat. There were small markings on the screw heads that indicated they were recently removed. Connelly used his screwdriver to quickly remove the four screws. The panel fell forward easily, revealing another black duffle bag, this one carefully hidden and wedged in between the pipes underneath the bath.

  ‘Time to leave. Matterhorn heading back towards Foxtrot-one,’ came Kemi’s voice over the air.

  Connelly opened the bag up and grinned at the sight.

  18

  Connelly’s earpiece was still tucked away in his trouser pocket as he dragged the heavy bag out from under the bath and pulled it towards him. He unzipped the top. Opened it right out to get a good view of what was inside. Connelly stopped a moment, enjoying the view, reached a hand in, and moved it through the bricks of tightly packed bank notes. The money was in dollars. From what he could see they were all hundred-dollar bills. In stacks of maybe a hundred notes each.

  ‘Hey there. Got a stash of bricks here.’

  ‘How many?’ Kemi asked.

  ‘A big bag full.’

  Kemi gave a low whistle.

  ‘Origin?’

  ‘Yanks.’

  ‘Matterhorn approaching fast. Pack up and go, Bravo. Repeat, pack up and go.’

  Beneath the money Connelly found passports, a gun, two phones and an A5 black book. He opened the book and saw two numbers followed by three letters and then a seven-letter word written in blue ink across the front page.

  The word was ‘JENKINS’.

  Connelly thought back to the code they found on the accountant McAuley’s computer.

  One line.

  Two numbers, three letters, then seven more numbers.

  Connelly grabbed his walkie-talkie. He recited the code from the little black book, including the word JENKINS.

  He quickly flicked through the rest of the black book but could see nothing else.

  ‘Are you out of the building? Matterhorn in TWO MINUTES,’ called Kemi through the walkie-talkie.

  Luque would be on him in two minutes.

  Connelly mentally retraced his steps.

  It was ten seconds from the top of the stairs to the restaurant floor.

  It’d taken six seconds to cross the restaurant.

  It was then nine seconds from the staff door to the fire exit out the back.

  Walking so as not to attract attention, he knew he could be out of here in twenty-five seconds flat.

  Connelly looked down at the bag that lay in front of him. He thought of the camera still on the bedside table. His own rucksack was on the floor by the bed. Luque would enter the restaurant in about forty seconds now.

  ‘OK,’ he replied to Kemi. ‘No problem.’

  He switched the walkie-talkie off and began to move.

  19

  The tires squealing as she turned the corner were a timely reminder for Kemi to steady herself and slow down.

  No need to hurry. The last thing any of us need is outside attention.

  Turning the next corner at a more casual speed in the Range Rover brought Nina and Matthews into view. The avenue was filled with terraced houses. Nina and Matthews were up ahead, strolling away from Kemi’s position. She pulled the car up just ahead of them and the couple got in, Nina in the back. Matthews opened the driver’s door and without a word he climbed in, so Kemi unbuckled her seat belt and quickly shifted over to the passenger seat with a huff.

  ‘Any news on Connelly?’ This from Matthews as he pulled the car out and wrapped his seat belt around with one hand.

  ‘None. Paxman saw Luque enter the restaurant.’ Kemi checked her watch. ‘Five minutes thirty seconds ago.’

  Matthews just nodded and continued to drive.

  Nina asked, ‘So what’s your story?’

  ‘Connelly found a note written down in the room,’ Kemi told them. ‘It’s a code that perfectly matches the one we found on McAuley’s computer. Except the last seven numbers had been changed to a word: JENKINS.’

  ‘Sonofabitch!’

  This was blurted out into Kemi’s and Nina’s earpiece. Kemi tensed and instinctively brought a hand up to her ear, applying pressure to hear as clearly as possible.

  ‘He’s out,’ said Paxman.

  Upon hearing Paxman, Kemi checked her watch. Over six minutes since they’d lost sight of Luque. Not knowing if Connelly was still in Luque’s room, the fear was rising inside her. Paxman cursed as if he’d held his breath for the entire six minutes.

  Paxman continued. ‘From Alpha. I’ve got Bravo moving away from Foxtrot-One and heading north. I’ll give him a moment and pick him up. Rendezvous back at base.’

  Kemi heard Nina breathe a sigh of relief.

  ‘Bob’s got him. Phil just left the restaurant,’ said Nina for Matthews’ benefit.

  Kemi asked Nina to pass the lapt
op over.

  ‘Jenkins. I’d say it’s obviously a name,’ said Nina, ‘but whether it refers to a person or something else...’ She let the words hang in the air, and added simply, ‘It means nothing to me.’

  Well, it doesn’t need to.

  Both Matthews and Nina seemed to sense Kemi’s excitement immediately.

  Matthews pulled up at their destination but no-one made to get out.

  Kemi typed and talked.

  ‘We expected the letters and numbers to be an encrypted message of some kind. So I immediately put them through a decryption software program we used to use at Six,’ she said, meaning MI6.

  ‘They let you take that stuff out of the agency?’ Nina asked, surprised.

  Kemi stopped for a second and looked up, confused. ‘No, of course not.’ Then she continued. ‘Now, as sophisticated as this software is, the problem lies in there being so many infinite combinations out there. It’s not like in the stories were it cracks the code and spits out the answer. We get stuck with a whole host of possible outcomes, and who’s to know what the correct one is.’

  A car drove past them. She saw Matthews watch it go and move his eyes ahead and to the rear-view mirror. He didn’t show any signs of concern.

  Kemi continued. ‘The first two numbers and three letters Connelly gave me match exactly to the first part of the accountant’s code. The last part of our code is seven numbers, and Connelly’s code, Jenkins, is seven letters, so let’s assume the word Jenkins is the last part of this code.’ Kemi finished typing and dramatically hit enter.

  ‘Ah ha.’

  ‘So?’ Matthews.

  ‘By telling the software the last seven numbers mean Jenkins, it gives the program all the information it needs to decrypt the first part of the code.

  ‘So the letters become numbers and the numbers become letters. Perfect,’ said Nina. ‘How long will it take to work out the rest?’

  Kemi lifted her laptop and turned it so Nina could see, a big, beaming across her face. ‘Done,’ she said. She turned the screen to Matthews.

  ‘Recognise the first part of that code?’ Nina asked Matthews.

  ‘Hmm. Looks like a flight number to me,’ he said.

  20

  Zurich, Switzerland.

  The guy gave his quiff another flick and ran a hand through the thick, shiny hair.

  ‘I actually think celebrities have a responsibility to be role models,’ he said.

  ‘Is that right?’ Assia Young said, looking for an escape route.

  ‘And literally, I actually said this to them in the interview.’

  ‘You’re kidding me?’ Assia replied, knowing he wouldn’t get her sarcastic tone.

  ‘Literally.’

  The guy introduced himself as Luther, an upper-class English boy from Knightsbridge in London, who apparently lived in the same building as a popstar Assia didn’t know.

  He’d started off nice. Now he was ignoring everything Assia said and kept trying to stroke her face.

  ‘So I literally waited until the last moment before agreeing to do the show. You remember what I said I’d have to insist on before agreeing to do it, don’t you, sweetness?’ Luther asked, apparently testing to see if Assia could recall something from thirty seconds ago.

  ‘Sorry, I forgot to write it down,’ she replied loudly, just to be annoying.

  Luther gave her a tsk and smiled. Assia had no idea why this guy’d chosen to approach her in the bar. She knew one look told you Assia was about as far away from Luther’s comfort zone as he could get, especially with her outfit. Perhaps he wanted to test the limits of his irresistible charm.

  ‘I told you it’s one of those shows where they literally follow you around town and to restaurants and parties and actually pretend you’re actually all a group of friends, even though literally everyone knows you’ve all been cast for the show. It’s seriously cool, yah. I’m the new love interest. Which would be great, except all the girls are bitchy. Did I tell you it was literally the second biggest TV show last year?’

  Literally. Actually. These were becoming the only words Assia could focus on. She was starting to wonder if this guy had gone to school at MTV.

  ‘Anyway,’ Luther continued, ‘I actually insisted the rest of the cast seriously consider putting five per cent of their salary into my new foundation to help unemployed people by giving them each a new mobile phone, because seriously, there are actually people out there who don’t own even the most basic smart phone. It’s just tragic.’

  ‘Really? I never knew that,’ said Assia.

  ‘Literally, yah. So, come sit with me for a bit.’

  ‘No thanks. I think I’m going to talk to someone else.’

  ‘Come on, babe. No need to play hard-to-get. We’ll have champagne. Or are you one of those shallow people that only talk to people based on their looks, without getting to know them?’

  He looked Assia up and down.

  She smiled to herself. Asked Luther to show her his hands. He looked confused, but did. She asked his age. Twenty-nine.

  ‘So you think it’s shallow to be interested in people’s looks? Should I be more interested in the fact you’re going to be on TV, or that you’re obviously from a wealthy family? Maybe I should just go with you for free drinks. Or the fact that at twenty-nine you have no wrinkles around your forehead and eyes, which means you either never laugh or have had botox. Both equally depressing. Also your hands are smooth, nails perfectly manicured, eyebrows shaped, and you’re slim, but with no muscle definition. Means you spend lots of time on your appearance for no physiological benefit. And you probably don’t do anything cool.’

  ‘Cool?’

  ‘You know, outdoorsy stuff. Running, jumping, climbing trees; that sort of thing. Is that what you meant about being judged by your looks?’

  ‘Seriously. Who gives a shit about that stuff? I literally don’t know why I’m wasting my time.’

  ‘I also think you are actually, literally, actually, seriously, incapable of forming a proper pissing sentence!’

  Luther flicked his quiff. ‘Excuse me?’ he said, looking shocked.

  Assia was already walking away. ‘What a douchebag!’ she said, hoping it was loud enough for him to hear.

  Earlier Charlie made her promise to try and be nice again, because these days, to quote Charlie, Assia ‘sometimes came across like she’d been raised by wolves’. Despite the comment, she loved that Charlie didn’t judge her for this. Although she’d promised, Assia didn’t think Charlie would’ve been too upset by her present behaviour if he’d met Lord Luther himself.

  She spotted Charlie at the bar and pushed her way through the crowd. ‘There you are,’ she shouted over the music and general noisy chatter.

  ‘Assia!’ Charlie greeted her as if she were a long-lost friend.

  ‘Finally. Where were you?’

  ‘My mum rang. She’s mad,’ replied Charlie.

  ‘Why?’

  Charlie only managed to offer a one-word answer. However, the single word was enough to answer Assia’s question and solve the mystery as to why Charlie was clinging to the bar with watery eyes.

  ‘Drunk!’

  She laughed. The song changed, and the bass from the speakers began to vibrate against the walls. She offered to get Charlie a glass of water as people danced and jostled around them.

  ‘Water? Get me a beer, woman!’ shouted Charlie and he leaned forward and slapped Assia on the bum. Assia just stared back at him as Charlie straightened up and thought about what’d just happened. ‘Actually, water is probably a good idea,’ he said with a burp and a look of embarrassment.

  Assia laughed again and grabbed his hand. ‘No, you’re right. More beer,’ she responded. She wasn’t in the least bit offended and knew Charlie was just trying to be funny, realising this meant she was pretty drunk too.

  At the bar she ordered two beers and two Jägermeisters. A slim boy with a brown fringe and spotted shirt who looked no older than seventeen moved alo
ng the bar and accidentally knocked into Assia.

  ‘Hey, screw you!’ Assia said, spinning her tiny frame to face up to him.

  ‘Sorry, it was an accident.’ The boy looked like he didn’t know why this person was turned on him, but he couldn’t hide the strange look he gave Assia’s outfit. He looked across at Charlie, who was stood next to Assia, and put a hand on her shoulder to try and ease her back. She immediately shook the hand off, and saw Charlie give the boy a look and a shrug that said, What can you do? The boy moved off and continued to stumble along. Charlie put his arm on her and spun them both back towards the bar. He appeared to be trying to think through his alcoholic fog of something to say. Presumably wanting to defuse Assia’s sudden tension.

  ‘Don’t forget the bet!’ shouted Charlie over the music as they downed the Jägermeister and he ordered two more before Assia could protest. ‘I’ve been feeling all day that tonight could be the night. Then I get to shave your head.’

  ‘It’s gone on too long now. You’re going to lose, Charlie, and I’ve got my pink frilly knickers ready for you.’

  21

  Feldkirch, Austria.

  In the apartment that evening Paxman made spaghetti bolognese with Matthews for the rest of the team. They prepared it in silence, completely due to Matthews, who seemed to be lost in his own thoughts as usual.

  The silence was only broken for one odd question.

  ‘You know what heterochromia is?’ Matthews asked him out of the blue in that quiet, gruff voice.