by Anthony Fox
The whole incident left Blanc’s forces severely depleted, having sacrificed more than half his own men, but with his rival out of the way he was free to crown himself king of the arms trafficking business in Baghdad.
That was October 1996. The plan was a masterstroke from Jean-Papin Blanc and the details were concealed and eventually swallowed up by time.
As far as Matthews knew the first assassination accredited to Caracas was in early 2000. But with Luque and Caracas here today preparing to duplicate a plan first used by Luque’s mentor, Matthews found himself wondering whether his nemesis possibly dipped his toes in the professional waters four years earlier than was believed.
‘Jenkins being American would’ve been perfect. Soon as they discovered him missing from the country and targeting Doctor Silva in Europe, all focus would be on stopping a worldwide media frenzy. But like we said, that option’s lost to them now. They do need a new decoy, and one person is still unaccounted for.’
‘You mean that madman, Mr Proud, from the garage shootout?’ Assia asked in a low voice.
‘No. Definitely not him. He’s far too wild to be set loose with this in a public place. It needs to get everyone’s attention straightaway, and make it all look like it’s about something else.’
‘Then who?’
Matthews thought a moment. Having Le Meridian 96 written on the wall in the barn was the perfect reference for Luque. It was a reminder of exactly how they needed this next job to be carried out, and it would mean nothing to Jenkins or any one else who saw it.
‘We have to go to Doctor Silva,’ Matthews said.
‘I thought you said he was too heavily guarded?’ Assia reminded him.
‘For an attack, yes. But you can’t think when someone’s under threat they just bury their head in the sand. The doctor’s like any political figure. They’re too powerful and stubborn to do anything other than continue with their schedule. But he’ll have a big security detail with extra precautions in place, and they’ll certainly have tightened up his movements.’
‘You’re going to France to talk to the doctor?’ Grandad was surprised.
‘The day after tomorrow, and Assia’s coming with me.’
‘Me? Why?’
‘I can’t leave you here. And I can’t just throw you out on the street. Once we explain what’s happening, you can go to Silva’s personal staff and tell them your story. They’ve definitely no part in this, and could help clear your name of anything in Feldkirch too. Time for you to leave us, Assia. Time for you to go home.’
‘Home,’ said Assia, as if trying to decide how the word made her feel.
‘So tell the doctor everything and then walk away,’ Grandad said loudly.
Matthews knew the boy had access to all his accounts, and knew where to go and lie low in the meantime. Until Matthews returned Grandad would be alone, but he would be safe.
‘Kid, listen–’
‘No. You listen. You can warn Doctor Silva and his security team can take over, and that’s it. Going after Caracas won’t change anything.’ His words were coming out rushed and urgent now. ‘Stop worrying about Rudy. Rudy made his own decisions and now he’s dead–’
Matthews tried to interrupt but Grandad wouldn’t let him.
‘–but I’m still here. And so’s Assia. We both need you, here. And not just until tomorrow. If you go after Caracas it won’t solve anything, and this time you might not come back.’
77
Riviera, France.
They approached Port Vauban by boat. Matthews looked up to see the sun as a glistening white ball high in the sky. A few of the faintest smudges of foam across the infinite pale blue canvas were all that passed for clouds. He could smell the salty sea air. As the shoreline along the French Riviera became visible on the horizon their fifteen-metre rigid inflatable boat skipped over the deep blue water, passing a large yacht.
He looked up at a swarm of crew all dressed in polo shirts and cotton shorts as white as a pearl, scrubbing hard at the deck and polishing the many already clean windows of the vessel.
A few minutes later they pulled into the port and thanked the captain. They climbed ashore.
Doctor Silva was due to give an after-dinner speech at the Palais de Festivals tomorrow night. Matthews called the most expensive hotels in the area and asked to speak to Mr Silva’s personal assistant, a man named Thibault Bartez, who travelled everywhere with the doctor. The first few calls were greeted with nothing but confusion. At the Prestige Hotel on La Croisette in Cannes, Matthews was answered not with confusion, but with suspicion.
He hung up immediately.
He would start there.
Leaving the port they hopped into a taxi and headed for Cannes.
Matthews wore a meringue-white panama hat and sunglasses to cover his still-damaged face. The collar of his short-sleeve shirt was upturned to conceal his scar.
They were dropped off on La Croisette on a busy corner after spending an hour in slow traffic.
The area known as La Croisette, running along on the seafront, is a long, straight road lined on one side predominantly by private beaches and then the Bay of Cannes, and on the other side by ambitiously priced grand hotels and designer shops. Matthews left Assia in a beachfront cafe whilst he went to do some preliminary reconnaissance.
‘One hour. Don’t move,’ he said. Assia told him she’d learned to do as he said, and wouldn’t so much as go to the bathroom.
***
Ninety minutes later, Assia still sat alone, worried. There was a big clock on the far wall of the cafe directly in front of her eyeline, so she was unable to stop from counting away the minutes. She ordered another coffee but left it untouched. Any more fluids and she’d have to break her promise about not going to the bathroom. Stupid as it sounded, she didn’t want to go and run the risk of missing Matthews.
She thought about home, the time both before prison and after. That led to her thinking about Thailand, which led to thoughts of the time she and Charlie spent together in Europe. She looked at the clock: an hour and forty-one minutes since Matthews left.
What did she want for herself? What plan should she make? She’d planned to leave Thailand and head to Vietnam, maybe go to Ankor Wat in Cambodia, make it over to Laos and go tubing. She planned to go straight through Innsbruck and on to Vienna and she’d never even heard of Feldkirch, let alone planned to go there. All of it such a total disaster. Perhaps the plan going forward should be to have no plan at all, then it couldn’t go completely wrong, could it?
She thought about Matthews. It was impressive to see someone so gifted at what they did. It was like he lived at a level above everybody else around him. Whatever Assia did moving forward, she knew meeting Matthews had changed her forever.
One hour and fifty-five minutes after first leaving, Matthews walked back into the cafe. He didn’t approach the table, just stood by the door until he caught Assia’s eye and then signalled it was time to go. Assia dropped some money Matthews had given her on the table, and was surprised at how relieved she felt to see him.
When they were both outside Matthews didn’t say anything other than ‘Let’s go’, and he led them towards what Assia assumed was the Prestige Hotel.
Cannes benefits from some of the best weather in all of western Europe, and today was no different. Beads of sweat began to collect on Matthews’ forehead.
‘Everything go OK?’ Assia asked after a minute. She was struggling to keep up as Matthews power-walked past the jam of holidaymakers who lined the beach side of La Croisette.
‘Fine,’ he replied.
‘You OK?’ Assia asked.
‘Fine,’ he said again, looking across at her. There was enough annoyance in his voice for Assia not to push further, and just follow in silence. For the first time she took a moment to consider things from his point of view, trying to get an idea of how he might be feeling. She couldn’t begin to imagine the strain he was under. Yet he’d never turned on her, never become
angry and shouted at her, no matter how stupidly she was behaving.
And he’d always come back for her. At the apartment in Feldkirch and then again when she was taken by Mr Proud. She could still picture the meat cleaver clearly, floating slowly in the air to its high point and then arcing down in one vicious movement. Matthews escaped alive and yet he’d come back for her, saved her.
They crossed the lanes of almost stationary traffic. Assia skipped along to keep pace. She considered saying something, but Matthews’ mind was on other things; preparing, focusing. He was transformed back into that other thing, into the man not from this world but part of the world everybody else never truly believes exists.
So Assia didn’t say anything, she just followed.
78
When they reached the hotel Matthews gazed over the many guards in and around the grounds that were not part of the usual security staff. He could tell who they were by the way they dressed and held themselves. Hell, a ten-year-old could tell. They weren’t trying to be inconspicuous. Their first level of protection was intimidation.
To the more starry-eyed onlookers the Prestige Hotel in Cannes looks less like a hotel and more like a roadside palace, situated a few dozen metres back from the road and fronted by palm trees, a snaking driveway, and a hotel bar and restaurant. The area is always awash with visitors hopeful of soaking up just a drop of its glamour and celebrity.
Today was the same, as the whole place was teeming with tourists. Matthews and Assia circled the area a few times and then Matthews stopped her at a quieter section of the car park just to the west side of the main hotel entrance.
He halted so abruptly that Assia actually walked into him.
‘Look, Assia, before we go on we need to talk.’
‘OK.’
‘Only one of us can go to talk with Doctor Silva.’
‘Then what do I do?’
‘You’re the one who needs to go up and talk to him.’
That completely knocked her back. ‘Me? No, it has to be you. Why on earth would I go?’
‘I’ll wait here. It’s the only way you can convince them you’ve nothing to do with anything. Tell them everything. Be completely honest, about me, Grandad, all of it. It’s the only chance they’ll believe you. Warn them about the attack. Try to make them see.’
‘Can’t you come with me? They might let us both through. You don’t know.’ But he was already shaking his head.
‘Before you go, there’s something you need to understand. Even if Doctor Silva helps you, there’re still dangers.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘With a bit of luck, you can go straight home and all this will be forgotten. But there’s a chance the White Wolf may visit you. Try to find out what you know. You need to understand, you can’t trust this man, Assia.’
Telling the truth was her only way out of this, Matthews knew, but it could also paint a target on her back where Alan T. Pincer was concerned. But in all honesty Matthews knew if Pincer came calling, then the only hope Assia could rely on was no hope at all.
What to do when the only choices in front of you are all bad ones.
Another Rudy quote.
How did he get past this loss when every situation reminded him of Rudy?
‘But I thought the White Wolf was helping you?’
‘He was, partly, but…’ Matthews struggled for words. ‘He isn’t like anyone you’ve ever met. He tries to do good, I do believe that, but he’s utterly ruthless, Assia. Has to be because life’s demanded it from him, but he’s ruthless nonetheless.’
‘OK. I understand,’ she said. ‘But why are you saying this like I’ll never see you again? You’ll be here when I come out, right?’
‘Of course. Don’t worry.’
‘And what if I didn’t want to go home? What if I wanted to stay with you and Yussef a little longer?’
‘Then we can talk later. Right now you need to go, quick. Go to the hotel. I’ll wait right here.’
***
Doctor Silva was flicking through TV channels when his head of security came in. A man named Djibril, who was short and thick as a tree trunk. Djibril had a lazy left eye and a classic short-back-and-sides-sir! military haircut and he never smiled, because he was trained not to.
‘Excusez-moi, we just got a call from downstairs, Dr Silva,’ said Djibril. ‘The first perimeter has detained a possible threat. One individual. She’s now in our control. She says she needs to talk to you and claims to have an appointment. She seems to know things. Knew you were here, for one. She’s referring to stuff about a threat against your life. Says she’ll only talk to you, though.’
‘Qu’est-ce que tu penses? – what do you think?’
‘Judging by what she knows, we should take a look. It’s just one woman, Dr Silva. Unarmed.’
‘Well, if anyone’s coming up here I want them strip-searched. I want to be sure. If she’s no threat, let’s hear what she has to say.’
***
When Assia eventually walked through the door to the Prestige Hotel’s most prestigious suite, she was confronted by an expensive room that appeared to have similar dimensions to a sports hall.
Assia obviously expected guards, after Matthews’ warning, but the number of guards inside the hotel suite gave her pause. They all wore the same navy uniform, and were muscular and menacing.
One of the four guards who accompanied Assia in the elevator now shoved her roughly forward and she felt the eyes of at least two dozen tough men on her. Assia’s hands were handcuffed behind her back and her hair was ruffled across her face.
She must’ve looked a little lost, because after a moment a man with thick thighs, a large belly and thin grey hair said, ‘I believe you wish to speak to me.’
‘Doctor Silva?’
‘What’s your name, Miss?’ He studied her as he spoke. They all did.
Miss. She let it go. Now was not the time. ‘Assia.’
The doctor used his tongue to pick something from the corner of his mouth. ‘And how are you today, Assia?’
How are you? Such a simple question. Impossible for her to fully answer. ‘Right now I’m a little annoyed, amongst other things.’
‘Why annoyed?’
‘It’s fine. It’s not the first time I’ve been humiliated,’ she smiled.
‘Humiliated?’ He sounded shocked.
‘Nor the first time I’ve been strip-searched.’
‘Oh,’ said Doctor Silva. He gave a low chuckle, as if she’d just unwittingly told a joke. ‘I understand. But we have to be thorough.’
‘Because someone wants to kill you?’
‘Someone? Try whole legions.’ He sat back in his chair, trying to figure this woman out.
‘Well, I can only tell you about one of them.’
There was the shifting of a few feet, someone cleared their throat, someone else repositioned their weapon. ‘And how might you be able to do that?’
‘Can I sit? I was told I had an appointment to speak with you.’
Now Doctor Silva couldn’t hide his smile. ‘Well then, you should be more careful who you trust.’
Assia frowned. She felt herself shrinking in front of them. ‘There is no appointment?’
‘No.’
Someone’s radio crackled off to the side. Silva ignored it; he was still looking at Assia. Then a few others sparked briefly into life. The guards concerned listened and spoke back.
A short man who appeared as wide as he was tall walked around to confer with a few of the men, then approached Doctor Silva.
‘Qu’est-ce que c’est, Djibril?’ the doctor whispered.
Djibril leaned forward and spoke in a low voice so only Doctor Silva could hear him. They talked at length and more than once glanced over at Assia. The more they talked, the more Assia became unnerved. She recognised that coming up here might have been a bad idea. Then she started to hear snippets of the conversation as more people were involved and the tone became more heated. The words �
��alerte’ and ‘bombe’ drifted to Assia’s ears. By the way they were reacting, the security team was taking the information seriously.
Assia looked around the room. She thought back to her and Matthews circling the hotel earlier. When he’d left her this morning in the coffee shop.
Then at once it hit her like the thud of a mallet.
Her blood went cold.
‘He used me,’ she said in a quiet, hurt voice.
Doctor Silva held up a hand for the people around him to be quiet and looked over at Assia.
‘What was that?’ he boomed.
‘He knew they were watching,’ said Assia, feeling as if she were having an out-of-body experience. ‘He isn’t going to walk away. All he can think of is avenging Rudy.’
Silva asked her to explain herself.
‘He knew if they saw me being brought up here it would panic them into launching their attack.’ She stared across at the doctor.
‘He used me,’ was all she could say.
79
Outside the hotel, in the constricting heat, Matthews watched Assia cautiously approach the first line of security guards and stop. He was still surprised by her own confidence in the face of such an unusual situation. At first the look on the guards’ faces made it clear they didn’t understand what the woman in front of them was talking about. One of them had already turned away when his comrade grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back around. They listened to Assia a second longer and then, quick as a flash, she was being manhandled to the ground, her arms being twisted behind her back. She was carried into the hotel lobby and disappeared from sight. A few people in the vicinity stopped and gasped. One woman even tried to take a picture on her camera phone, then everyone was told to quickly move along.