Milieu Dawn

by Malcolm Franks

  One al fresco lunch at the lakeside restaurant later and he was ready to start again. As he waited for the computer to load, he could still taste the flavour of the Schnitzel in his mouth. The meal had been a delight, bathed as it was in a sauce only the Austrians and Germans seemed to get perfectly right.

  He swigged at the bottle of mineral water, conscious two lunchtime lagers in this country all too easily impaired concentration. The holiday let apartment represented nothing less than luxury in comparison to his previous lodgings. The ceiling was flat and broad, enabling him to pace across the room without having to crouch. There was even a separate bathroom.

  After leaving Rosa he travelled to Strobl, little more than a stone’s throw to St Wolfgang. He reasoned this to be one of the last places on earth his enemies would search. Too close to home. True, he had to be careful over when, and how long, he ventured out into the open. The trade off of being in familiar surroundings was worth the risk.

  The memory stick slipped into place and Matt started up the programme he’d found on the internet, confident this would enable him to bypass the encryption. With any luck, he would soon be into the files. He clicked on the first heading and waited. Swathes of data appeared, filling the screen in chunky paragraphs. It was unreadable.

  Then the shapes in front of him started to break up. In silent dismay he watched them violently disintegrate, as if torn apart by a hidden electronic explosion. In milliseconds, everything had vanished from the screen.

  Matt tossed back the chair and kicked furiously at the table. He’d spent hours researching the subject of encryption and thought he’d cracked it. He hadn’t. Matt was back to square one. Now what was he going to do?

  Going back to Victoria to pick up the old USB wasn’t an option. They’d be waiting for him to show up. And the place would be under surveillance. Phone calls and all mail contact would be monitored too. Safer for Will, Jenna and the others he didn’t try.

  He had to go into the meeting with Catherine with physical evidence. His enemies knew the files were encrypted. Unless he could clearly demonstrate he’d cracked the code all was lost. Somehow, he had to find a way in. He rose from his seat and walked to the window to look out at the lake.

  “Any ideas?” he asked, lifting his gaze to the sky.

  No answer. Maybe the task was beyond Him too. Perhaps it was time to concede defeat. He swung round and stared at the blank screen, bereft of any meaningful thought other than he lacked the technical expertise necessary.

  Matt returned to his research on encryption. The leading industry recognised system was developed by two Belgians. One of them worked for a company with offices in Munich, some two hundred and sixty miles away. Not too distant. But it presented two distinct problems for Matt. First he had to get there undetected. Then he would have to ask people to decrypt files which were not his. In this information sensitive modern climate such a request were likely to draw the wrong kind of attention. He needed a conduit, someone to act as go-between. There was only one person he knew who lived and worked in Munich. It was a long shot, but one he had to take.

  Matt watched the svelte figure board. The white suited figure stepped onto the deck and looked front and aft, deciding her next direction. He scanned the remaining passengers for signs she had been followed. Nothing seemed unusual. Matt’s eyes caught sight of her long raven hair entering the inner seating area.

  He followed.

  The air temperature was so high nearly every tourist had crammed onto deck outside, to take advantage of the gentle breeze and cool down. This meant they were virtually alone. She headed to a window table in the centre of the room. Matt waited for several moments before making his move. While her head turned to look out of the window he slipped silently into the chair opposite, instantly catching the sweet aroma of her powerful perfume.

  “I wasn’t sure you would come,” he said.

  If he had surprised her, she wasn’t showing it. A small hand rose into the air to catch the waiter’s attention. She asked him for two bottles of water. The young man departed to fulfil the order and Gratia turned her attention to Matt.

  “As you can see, I am here nonetheless,” she said.

  The waiter reappeared and Matt settled the account. He felt oddly ill-at-ease now they were together, and couldn’t explain why. His emotions were jumbled between relief and uncertain anticipation. Though happy to find her safe and well, this was tempered with inner doubt as to how she would now react to him. They had exchanged a range of cross, unpleasant words at Klagenfurt. He took the time to study her face for clues. As usual, her expression gave nothing away. Despite the minimal make-up she exhibited all her name suggested, pure feminine grace.

  “Are you well?” he asked.

  “I am fine.”

  “You look good.”

  “Thank you.”

  This wasn’t the sort of tentative opening he had in mind. It felt like an awkward, stumbling blind date. They both waited for the other to speak, unease evidenced by the rapid exchange of furtive glances. Eventually he held his gaze and her cheek muscle twitched, indicating a desire to smile. He sensed his face reacting, trying to follow suit.

  “I was lying,” he said. “You don’t look good. You look fantastic.”

  The smile appeared on her face.

  “The things you will say to get people to meet you.”

  He grinned, touching lightly at the rim of the plastic bottle with a finger.

  “Doesn’t always work,” he said.

  “It worked this time.”

  Matt steered his gaze to the water of the lake then fleetingly returned it to her face. She didn’t appear to be angry, quite the opposite. If anything she appeared relieved he was unharmed, but also a little edgy about the clandestine encounter.

  “You look tired,” she said.

  “I’m sure I’ve looked worse.”

  “Is it possible you could look worse?”

  His smile reappeared as she sipped lightly at the cold water.

  “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you after Klagenfurt, and even more surprised you should send the message through Martha.”

  He eased back in the chair, trying to appear relaxed.

  “Your stepmother would prefer the two of you had a closer relationship. Perhaps I’d hoped the note might prove to be a conversation piece,” he said.

  Her Guinness eyes darkened and he instantly regretted the statement. Gratia’s attitude towards her stepmother was really none of his business.

  “You’re right,” he said. “The relationship between you and Martha has absolutely nothing to do with me.”

  Her eyes blinked twice.

  “Have you seen Rosa?” he asked, in an attempt to change the subject.

  “She is fine. Planning for the wedding is showing itself to be challenging. Why do you ask?”

  He shook his head to signify he would make no further enquiry. Matt noticed Gratia’s eyes had softened.

  “Whilst I do not see everything my father sees in Martha, it is clear they hold much affection for each other.”

  “Maybe they’re just compatible,” he grinned.

  She laughed gently.

  “Perhaps there is a little more to it than that,” she replied with an agreeable smile. “Martha is completely the opposite of my mother, yet it is clear my father is much happier with her. I see it now.”

  “Yeah, that’s the trouble with human emotions,” he said dryly. “They come along unexpectedly and force all logic out into the wilderness.”

  “So it seems.”

  They each took a sip from their drinks. Matt felt the need to explain.

  “I left you at Klagenfurt because Rosa thought it would be safer if no-one knew of my whereabouts.”

  “And yet Rosa has not been invited today?” she said.

  She was as sharp as ever.

  “No. Rosa must take care now.”

  “Due to the pregnancy?” she said more in statement than in query.

 
; He looked surprised.

  “I didn’t think it was well known.”

  “She has confided in Martha, and we have managed to find a way to talk more.”

  Matt sighed.

  “Well at least one good thing has come out of all this, you and Martha I mean. I’m pleased you are both getting on better. It is better for your relationship with Gerhardt too.”

  “Are you disappointed in Rosa’s news?”

  He hesitated.

  “Not at all,” he said. “She appears ready for motherhood and I’m very happy for her and this Stefan bloke.”

  He noticed her wry grin.

  “Not quite a ringing endorsement,” she said. “But I am sure you had not meant for it to sound quite so.”

  Matt’s grimace found its way into a brief smile.

  “Her news did come as a surprise,” he admitted. “Rosa had never indicated previously family was a priority for her. I am pleased for her though, very happy for Rosa.”

  “Are you, Matt? Are you pleased?”

  He looked directly into Gratia’s eyes.

  “Yes. Yes, I am.”

  The ensuing lull to the conversation was temporary.

  “Why did you want to see me?” she asked.

  “Bit of a long shot really.”

  “Sounds mysterious,” she said.

  “There are some files I need to access. I wondered if there was the remote chance you might know someone who has any kind of understanding of encryption?”

  She took time to consider his request.

  “Oddly enough I was introduced to someone recently who does this very thing.”

  “Is he any good?”

  “Matthias, apparently, is a genius in such matters.”

  “Would you trust him?”

  She shrugged her shoulders.

  “He is a strange one, though seems harmless enough.”

  Matt reached into his side pocket and produced a USB stick.

  “I need to decrypt a file on this, and have the subsequent code copied on to it.”

  “Okay,” she said lightly. “I shall see what can be done.”

  He paused.

  “Look, this could be dangerous. You might want to think it over before jumping in to making any commitment,” he said.

  She slipped the object into the right side pocket of her jacket. Her willingness to help meant a lot. And she asked for nothing in return. He couldn’t help but wonder why.

  “Are you absolutely sure about this, Gratia?”

  She was clearly taken aback by his question, judging from her expression.

  “Why would I not do it? This could help you, no?”

  “Yes. All I can offer in return for your help though is the prospect of danger.”

  The edges of her lips suggested a half smile.

  “Perhaps when I come to Victoria your personal tour will be free of charge rather than at a reduced rate?”

  The comment made him think back to the first night they had met.

  “How long would it take?” he asked.

  “Days I would think, should Matthias manage to live up to his self portrait. With luck, I could return it to your possession very soon.”

  “That easy?” said Matt.

  “According to the bible of Matthias he is the star man of the company.”

  “Will he require payment?”

  “I’m sure I will be able to accommodate any charge for the service,” she said looking him directly in the eye.

  The way she spoke made him consider. Matt cocked his head to the side and thought for a moment or two.

  “What does that mean exactly?”

  “It means I will have the file decrypted and the necessary programme copied on to the USB for you.”

  Matt reached into his pocket and produced a handful of notes, Euro currency. He tucked them into her hand.

  “This will pay for a new computer. Once he has finished dispose of it, preferably in a furnace. This is very important. Nothing must be left that can be traced.”

  She nodded.

  Unexpected anxiety gripped Matt, as if a silent alarm had been triggered in his mind. He was suddenly uncomfortable. A series of coincidences had contrived to provide him with exactly the sort of help he needed, precisely when he needed it. What were the chances of everything falling into place with such timing? He worried this was too easy, too coincidental. An inner mental struggle raged as he toyed over other options. The final decision arrived quickly. Matt couldn’t go through with this. He sensed danger.

  “You know, there might be another way to do this.”

  “A way that will complete the task within the next few days?” she said, slightly amused.

  “I wasn’t thinking of that, only one which would be safer for you.”

  He failed to convince her. The narrowing and darkening of her eyes made it abundantly clear.

  “I am to be no longer trusted?” she said.

  He turned his view to the lake, unsure what to say.

  “I might have dived into this a little too quickly, roped you in too early. I should have properly examined other options first, and maybe only come to you after they had been fully explored,” he said.

  “What other options do you have?”

  “There are one or two others I haven’t fully investigated.”

  “Had other options been available then you would not have asked to meet today. If there is one thing I have come to learn about Matt Durham, it is he is not stupid.”

  How could he argue with that?

  “Why do you seek to change your mind?”

  “Because it’s risky,” he said.

  “I believe on this occasion I am better placed to assess the true level of risk.”

  “You’re forgetting, it’s my USB,” he said sharply.

  Gratia looked ahead to see how far they had travelled. They were only a few minutes from their destination.

  “We are almost there. I will drive straight home to Munich and speak with Matthias along the way.”

  “No need to call. I’ll have the memory stick back,” he said.

  “We have no time to argue. You have asked for my help and I will provide it. I shall return when the job is complete.”

  She rose from her chair, lifted the strap of her bag over her shoulder and walked to the door leading on to the open deck. Matt decided he had to stop her from leaving, without drawing too much attention. He needed to find a subtle approach, and fast.

  “Gratia, wait.”

  She stopped at the entrance to the sliding door. Rising up quickly, he soon caught her. Matt reached out and held each of her arms just above the elbow. He nudged her against the side of the cabin and fixed his gaze onto her rich Guinness eyes.

  Matt bowed his head to allow his lips to rest on hers. He waited for the response he was sure would follow. Seconds passed without reaction. He eased away. Not even the texture of her eyes revealed what thoughts lay beneath, though she made no attempt to escape his advance. Matt leant forward and touched at her lips again, only to receive the same inert reaction.

  A short retreat followed. Her gaze remained fixed, steady. Gratia’s eyes dared him to make another attempt. Matt lifted a hand to her cheek and edged his lips forward. He hesitated at Gratia’s apparent ongoing aloofness as his mouth loitered next to hers, unable to decide on what to do. She made the decision for him.

  Gratia raised her hands to his upper arms and touched her mouth against his. Due to her earlier resistance he expected no more than a simple peck. As her soft lips held their position he found himself warming to the task at hand.

  Her scent smelt unique, overpowering. Gratia’s lips tasted differently to other women he had kissed before. For a brief, fleeting moment Matt forgot his purpose. Kissing this woman electrified his senses, galvanised his heart rate. As kisses go, this felt sensational.

  He forced himself to concentrate on the task, slipping his hand into the right side pocket of her jacket.

  “I’ve m
oved it from there,” she whispered, easing her head away.

  He hated being second guessed.

  “Is this normal practise, for you to sexually assault young women on a lakeside leisure craft in broad open daylight?” she asked.

  Her eyes were the brightest he had seen, the smile open and relaxed. Was this in triumph at outsmarting him, or something completely different? Life would be much simpler if he could understand the minds of these strange creatures.

  “It was either that or an arm wrestle,” he said.

  “You selected the more preferable choice.”

  He smiled.

  “Can I have the USB back now?”

  “Once Matthias has finished his work,” she said.

  “I never ask politely twice.”

  “Then do not ask again.”

  He wasn’t sure what to say next.

  “Until the file is decrypted you have nothing,” she said. “It must be this way if you are to succeed in preventing their plan from becoming reality.”

  He knew she was right.

  “Any sign of danger, the slightest hint of peril, then wipe your prints from the USB and dump it,” he said.

  “Then you will lose everything.”

  “I have a full copy. That USB has only one of the files copied on it.”

  He made to kiss her again. In a single movement, Gratia released her hold, ducked under his arms and slid away. Her amused smile at his look of disappointment failed to soften the blow of her escape.

  “Be on this ferry at the same time each day for the next few days. I will be on one of them to return the information,” she said.

  “Be careful.”

  Gratia nodded. And then she disembarked.

  This was the fifth day he had made the same trip. Gratia had yet to re-appear. Matt had called a halt to his own research. It was as if his mind ceased to function properly under the cloud of increasing worry. Surely she would be here today?

  He scanned the boarding passengers. A youngish woman of similar height to Gratia stood at the back of the queue under a sun hat, looking away from the pier. Matt craned his neck to get a better view. It wasn’t her.

  Where the hell had she got to?

  He noticed a small, beefy looking man stood behind the woman. The guy was totally out of place. Baggy trousers too long for his legs sat underneath a creased and scruffy shirt partially covered by a woollen waistcoat. The thinly framed spectacles were large and round, incapable of providing any protection from the burning sun. He was no tourist. The last person in the queue, a woman armed with hiking sticks and a backpack, boarded. Gratia had failed to turn up again.

  Matt relocated at the small bar in the left hand corner of the inner space, and ordered a coffee. He decided to get off at the stop before Strobl and walk the remainder of the way for some exercise. A figure shuffled beside him and asked for a drink of lemonade.

  The scruffy man he had seen boarding earlier placed the puzzle book on the bar to address the crossword on the page. With little else to occupy him, Matt glanced occasionally to see how the man was getting on. Progress was mortifyingly slow. Scribbled words appeared in the margins as the man sought to find words that would fit precisely into the white boxes. Head shaking became more and more prominent as the struggle continued. Matt glanced down once again and spotted a neat line of words. The object is in your pocket, read the statement.

  Matt felt with his hands and touched the memory stick. Could this be the said Matthias?

  “Would you like me to help you?” asked Matt in his best available German. “I’m okay at crossword puzzles.”

  The lens of the spectacles looked up and the man sort of grinned.

  “This one here,” he said, pointing to a printed clue. “I do not understand its meaning, the clue it provides.”

  Matt leaned across and indicated to suggest he would like to use the man’s blue biro. He scribbled down what was on his mind. Are you Matthias?

  “Yes, I believe so,” replied the man. “However the phrase I have in mind does not appear to fit,” he added, pointing to his attempted answer.

  Matt scrutinised the crossword. The two word answer had been filled in but the words didn’t fit the boxes. The message was clear to him. Encryption completed.

  “Could it be this?” said Matt scribbling a note.

  Where is Gratia?

  “I am not sure,” answered Matthias.

  He turned the page and directed Matt’s attention to the preceding puzzle.

  “This one is difficult too,” said Matthias.

  She said it was urgent, read the note.

  Matt paused. He found it difficult to accept Gratia would surrender their rendezvous arrangements to anyone. And she certainly wouldn’t reveal the need for secrecy. Something wasn’t right.

  “Sorry, I’m out of answers,” said Matt.

  The man stood for a few seconds.

  “It was worth a try,” he said. “Ah, this is my stop.”

  Matt watched him shuffle away through the mirror placed behind the bar. He noticed a set of eyes follow Matthias as he headed towards the central door. As the craft closed to a few metres of the landing stage, the eyes rose and took position immediately behind. The woman tapped the walking stick against her firm leather boots as she waited for the boat to moor.

  She looked an ordinary soul, dressed much as all hikers do in the summer. The yellow t-shirt tucked into her white shorts had been around for some time judging by the paling colour, a result of many and frequent washes. Her small round face had adopted the same leathered look most hikers appeared to possess, a legacy from constant exposure to the elements. The muscles in her long legs had been toned and firmed by years of walking.

  This caused Matt to think. She was getting off the boat at the one stop on the lake devoid of instant access to an incline or summit; an odd place for a hiker to stop.

  Instinct prompted him to down his coffee and wander up behind her. He stared at the t-shirt as they patiently waited for the steward to push the boarding panel into place by the door. Matt noticed a thin black strip hanging loose from underneath the white bra. She was wired.

  Matt’s eyes scanned the shoreline. Parked a few yards from the landing was a dark coloured four by four. Two men were positioned inside, watching the ferry drift against the wooden jetty. These men were not hikers, nor were they tourists. The exit door slid sideways to open and Matthias moved forward.

  “Excuse me,” said Matt, tapping him on the shoulder. “You have dropped this.”

  He turned and Matt beckoned him from the door. Matthias stepped to the side to allow the woman through. She hesitated to leave, caught in two minds. Her only option was to get off as planned. She stepped out of the door.

  Matt tugged at his accomplice’s shirt to prevent him from following, motioning with his lips to tell him to stay on board. The woman walked directly towards the four by four, passing a few feet from the front of the machine. Matt was convinced she was talking. The vehicle dropped back in reverse and then turned and headed sedately down the road. Matt watched the steward pull away the boarding panel from shore and start to undo the mooring rope.

  “Wait, please,” he called.

  Through the corner of his eye, Matt saw the dark car come to a halt. The female hiker slid onto the back seat and it sped off. Matt reasoned they would race on to Strobl for the ferry’s next scheduled stop.

  “I’m sorry,” said Matt to the steward. “We do need to get off here after all.”

  The Austrian man cursed and began to tie the mooring back into place.

  “Jump,” said Matt, before the tie was in place.

  Together, they leapt the yard or so to shore. The steward cursed again as he undid the rope for a second time, berating Matt and his companion for disobeying safety procedures. He made a stumbling apology and they darted up the bush bridled footpath out of immediate sight. Matt checked his watch.

  “Hurry,” he ordered. “The bus is due.”

 
Matt set off at his normal jogging speed towards the main road, forgetting his sturdy companion was neither fit enough nor well enough equipped to keep up with him.

  “Matthias, if you miss this bus you’ll be as good as dead within the next thirty minutes.”

  His words had the requisite effect, galvanising the stocky figure into a trot. Matthias looked set to collapse when they arrived, gulping in big chunks of air. There was no way he was going to be able to speak during the half minute or so it would take the approaching bus to reach them.

  “Nod or shake your head,” said Matt. “Do you where Gratia is?”

  Matthias shook his head.

  “Have you got a number for her?”

  The breathless German pointed to Matt’s pocket as the bus pulled up, indicating there was something on the USB. Matt helped push the German up the step and paid a single fare to Salzburg. Matthias turned round.

  “Come,” he gasped.

  “No, they’ll be back when they realise we’re not on the ferry. Give me your shoes. I’ll leave them with something to think about. Go home and act as if nothing has happened.”

  He nodded.

  “You’ll be under surveillance for a while. Do everything as normal, work and friends etc. They’ll soon tire and leave you alone.”

  “And you?” he gasped again.

  “Let me worry about that. Now go.”

  He nodded again.

  “Matthias,” called Matt as the bus door started to slide shut. “Thank you.”

  Matt ran to the jetty. He looked to his right and saw the ferry nearing Strobl. Five minutes thereabouts, he reckoned, before they realised their quarry was missing. Maybe another five to ten minutes for them to drive back to where he was and begin the search.

  Matt had to move quickly. His eyes searched the surrounds for some inspiration, looking for anything to provide him with a temporary advantage. He walked to the nearest undergrowth and trampled at the edge to flatten the ground. Matt scrambled another twenty paces, further into the wooded area. Carefully he retraced his steps, swapped into Matthias’ shoes, and aped his original movement. He made sure the second set of prints ran along his own. Again he backtracked to the jetty.

  Matt tossed Matthias’ ill-fitting shoes far into the lake, each loaded with a heavy stone. He watched them submerge before crawling along the bank in the opposite direction, looking for shallow water. After a few feet he found an entry point. Matt slipped down up to his knees and waded along as quickly as he could.

  By the time he had scrambled back ashore Matt could hear the sound of a fast approaching vehicle. He expected to hear German voices; they were American. The woman’s voice led the chorus of urgency emanating from his pursuers. They had decided to split up and search the area. He crawled behind a prickly bush and waited. The approaching footsteps sounded heavy set, too heavy for the woman.

  He crouched, poised to strike.

  Two black shoes appeared to Matt’s right. The strides were lengthy but carefully taken. Whoever this was, they were long legged and cautious. The right foot stepped beyond the bush he hid behind. The left foot was sure to follow. A man’s voice called out in the distance. He was telling the others he’d found something, the fake path Matt had created into the wood. The cocking of a weapon told him everything he wanted to know. These people had not returned to pass the time of day.

  He saw the feet turn. Matt planted his arms to the ground and swung out his leg in a wide arc. The blow hit the target at the back of the knee. Legs crumpled and the man toppled to the ground. The blowpipe sound of a silencer equipped gun filled the air.

  Matt fell upon his victim with an elbow to the throat. The brown eyes screamed in silent agony at the intrusive pain. A blow to the wrist freed the gun. Matt sprung over the startled body, grabbed at the weapon and fired. There was no writhing in agony, or trembling of nerve ends, just a long exhalation of air. And the figure stilled.

  An approaching noise of feet hurrying against ground had Matt scrambling into cover. The second man ran towards his colleague, oblivious to fear or danger. The man called out his colleagues’ name as he rushed forward. Matt waited for the right moment, rose to his knees and fired. Two rounds, both to the heart, made sickening contact with flesh. The man slowed, staggered, and then fell face forward to the ground. It was all mercifully quick.

  The third partner would now run. Matt sprang onto his feet and sprinted in the direction of the vehicle. A flash of yellow caught his eye and he instantly ducked. The whoosh of a high velocity bullet passed overhead. She hadn’t run. Matt steadied himself and peered ahead to see if he could spot her. Nothing moved. He shuffled forward on all fours, still no sign. She had to be around here somewhere.

  “Drop your weapon,” said the voice.

  She had circled behind him.

  “I said drop your weapon.”

  He obeyed.

  “Get up on your feet and turn around, slowly.”

  Matt stood, turned and faced his executioner. The pair of vibrant eyes looked Matt up and down in searing contempt. If Matt didn’t know better she looked somewhat disappointed in his appearance.

  “Where is the other guy?”

  Matt chose not to answer.

  “Don’t fuck with me. Where is your partner?”

  “He’s behind you,” said Matt.

  “Yeah, of course he is. Play the smart ass.”

  She levelled the gun and pointed at his heart. The crunch of a twig snapping under pressure was timed to perfection. The woman swivelled round and he kicked at her elbow, knocking the weapon from her hand. Matt followed this by wrapping an arm around her neck and then twisted her chin violently in the opposite direction. The woman collapsed, without as much as a whimper.

  “I thought I put you on a bus?” said Matt.

  Matthias shrugged.

  “Didn’t think it was right to leave you,” he replied. “I saw the way you took those other two down. Wow! This is like being in a movie.”

  “People don’t really die in Hollywood films,” he replied wearily.

  Matt knelt at the body to confirm the woman’s death. He prised the wallet from the front pocket and checked for ID.

  “CIA,” he muttered.

  “That’s bad, right?” asked Matthias.

  Matt said nothing.

  “So what do we do now?”

  Matt thought for a moment. Three dead CIA operatives on his hands was the last thing he needed. Except why CIA? He was wanted by Europeans, Chinese and the Japanese. Rosa had made no mention of the Americans being on his tail. Why were they involved? Scurrelli, the original US conspirator had been arrested, as had the financier Kimber. Matt had killed the Canadian, Bill Francis. North America shouldn’t be involved. Yet they had to be. Otherwise the CIA wouldn’t be trying to find him. This thing was getting more complicated with each passing day.

  “What do we do?” repeated the man’s voice.

  He’d forgotten about Matthias.

  “You’re getting on the next bus home,” said Matt. “No-one is going to believe you had anything to do with this. All you have to say is that you saw nothing.”

  “What about the USB? They’ll ask me what I did with it.”

  “Had they known you had it to start with they would have raided your house long ago. Should you be questioned, tell them you’ve never met me. When you get home, make sure you’ve ditched every piece of evidence, anything remotely connected.”

  “What about Gratia?”

  This bothered Matt from the start. She hadn’t shown up in person, and Matthias didn’t know where she was. There had to be something wrong.

  “I’ll sort it out,” said Matt. “You focus on getting home and covering your tracks as best you can. Leave me to worry about the rest.”

  “There must be something I can do?”

  “Here, you can give me a hand while you’re waiting for the next bus.”

  Matt found the car keys and they returned the bodies to the vehicle, his German co
mpanion muttering constantly about having no shoes to wear. Once they’d finished Matt located the alarm beacon, fitted to all secret service vehicles, and set it away. The CIA would make straight for the beacon. With their attention distracted, he could make good his escape.

  “Remember,” said Matt to the German as he boarded the bus. “You’ve never seen me.”

  Chapter Thirty One

  Betrayed