As the man waited for a reply, Harker was already glancing back towards the entrance for any sign of additional security as befitted a minister, but there was none to be seen.
Cortez picked up on this immediately. ‘If you’re looking for security agents, Professor, I can assure you I am quite alone. This is Gibraltar, not Whitehall, and besides you’re not in any trouble… so far as I know.’
Cortez extracted a business card from his wallet, which he slowly passed over, allowing Harker to note the official UK coat of arms preceding the minister’s name, so relieving any concerns he might still have.
‘Professor Alex Harker,’ he introduced himself, shaking the minister’s hand. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘Just a moment of your time, please,’ Cortez replied and glanced over towards the main entrance. ‘Let’s find somewhere a bit more private, shall we?’
The minister smiled reassuringly, extending his hand courteously towards the door, and so Harker followed him outside onto the entrance steps. Cortez peered warily down the road for a few moments, then apparently convinced that all was clear, he began to speak, his thinning grey hair blowing in the strong wind to reveal the edges of a poorly secured wig.
‘I believe Dr Holtz is fortunately in a stable condition, but unable to speak for the time being,’ he began, ‘which at least is one positive aspect to this whole bloody mess.’
‘She’s expected to remain in the decompression chamber for some time, but yes, the doctor tells me she’ll be making a full recovery,’ Harker replied, while not allowing his eyes to stray towards the unconvincing weave covering Cortez’s scalp.
‘Good, I have a private security team arriving within the next ten minutes to ensure her protection,’ Cortez announced confidently. ‘It would have been much sooner, but I was dealing with the government’s response to that “earthquake” that you were caught up in earlier. If only I’d known she’d brought you into this little cabal of ours, I would have demanded that we two met sooner. But given today’s events, I suppose that is now bye the bye.’
‘It was a very last minute thing, I’m afraid,’ Harker replied off the cuff. The minister was clearly mistaken as to his actual reason for being here, and it was a misunderstanding that Harker was happy to exploit.
‘Well, I should have been told, but there’s no point in crying over spilt milk, is there? How much has she told you?’
Now Harker knew he was playing with an empty hand because, apart from seeing the pyramid itself, he was totally clueless as to what the minister was referring to. And so, with a shrewd look on his face, he leant in closer. ‘Everything. Although she was definitely most diplomatic when speaking of your own involvement.’
This answer received a look of scorn from Cortez. ‘Well, firstly don’t judge me, Professor. I took the money for purely patriotic reasons, that I can assure you, and let me also say that every penny was allocated to the Gibraltar coffers.’
The suggestion of a bribe drew no reaction from Harker, who instead gazed at the minister sympathetically. ‘Given the nature of the site we discovered, I would say the donation was more than justified.’
This appeasing comment had Cortez looking more relaxed as he offered a self-satisfied nod. ‘Good – and I want your detestable bosses to know that the destruction of that site had nothing to do with me whatsoever.’
Bosses, Harker thought, proceeding to play along with the charade. ‘You should know that they’re not happy, Minister. Perhaps it is I who should be asking exactly what do you know?’
There was an air of threat in his question, which instantly garnered the reaction he was hoping for.
‘I can assure you no one else knew about the site – as I promised – but the whole of Gibraltar would have heard those explosions. And you should know that there are Royal Navy divers combing the area even as we speak. If they do find anything it will be hard to keep a lid on it, but rest assured I have already interceded to put myself in the middle of it, so any findings have to go through me first. I will of course come up with a cover story, but it won’t be easy.’
On the outside Harker managed to maintain a solid poker face, but inside he felt almost giddy. Indeed, he felt like a spy extracting information. Of course he still had no idea what the point of all this was, but nonetheless he seemed to be a natural at this kind of game and this confidence allowed a smile to appear at the corner of his lips.
‘You find that funny, do you?’ Cortez asked angrily.
‘Not at all, Minister. Just glad that you’re on top of this bungled situation. I’m sure you’re aware of the financial backing and support we can provide if your cover story doesn’t stand up to scrutiny.’
Harker was already cursing himself for having perhaps pushed this façade too far, but the look of nervous panic spreading across the man’s face quickly reassured him.
‘I assure you it will. I’m a man who can be counted on to honour our agreement, but I expect you to keep your word too. I want my pictures back – and any copies – as soon as this is all over, as was promised.’ A frown appeared on Cortez’s forehead. ‘I take it you’ve already seen them?’
This last question had Harker utterly stumped ‘Ahh, yes… those.’
Cortez now looked embarrassed. ‘So you have, then. Well, let me say, Professor Harker, that regardless of whatever money is offered, I find blackmail one of the most dishonest of all crimes. It would destroy my reputation and my family – and that cannot be allowed to happen.’
Finally Harker twigged what the minister must be referring to, and it was clear that, whoever those ‘bosses’ were, they had caught Harold Cortez doing something he should not have been doing and used it as leverage in demanding his help and discretion regarding the dig site. Of course the important aspect, why, was all he really wanted to know. ‘Yes, Minister, a highly compromising position to be found in… and mightily unusual I would add.’
Cortez’s nervousness suddenly evaporated and he stood there stout and proud. ‘Having one’s buttocks spanked whilst being ridden like a horse is simply role play, Professor, and nothing more. Whilst the blinkers and chomping bit were merely for a touch of realism.’
Harker’s face firstly went blank, then he couldn’t help smirking childishly, but Cortez dismissed this reaction with a grunt.
‘I want those pictures back when this is done. No ifs and no buts.’
‘You’ll have them back as promised,’ he assured him, pushing an unwelcome image of Cortez from his mind and concentrated on squeezing more information out of the minister. ‘I assume it was explained to you why all this secrecy was necessary in the first place?’
‘No, it wasn’t, Professor Harker,’ Cortez huffed, ‘and I don’t want to know. Your lot blackmailed me into keeping that underwater site under wraps – and I have done so – but now it’s time you answered some of my questions. What the hell happened down there?’
It was evident the minister was as much in the dark as Harker himself, and he now saw no reason to keep hidden the events that had recently transpired deep in the murky waters of the Gibraltar Strait. ‘Someone exploded a set of charges and almost killed us in the process. Then, on the way out, we were attacked by a diver with a knife.’
Cortez looked shocked by the revelation and his eyes narrowed. ‘Military?’
‘I don’t know, but he managed to attach an inflatable buoy to Dr Holtz and as a result… well, you know how she is.’
The last piece of information had the minister looking bewildered. ‘This is getting out of hand, Professor,’ he said, his hand shaking ever so slightly. ‘I was asked to keep this archaeological site off the records and that’s one thing, but if we’re now talking attempted murder, then that’s not something I can be a part of, and neither will I – photos or not.’
It was refreshing to see this man displaying some moral courage and for some reason it made Harker feel he needed to come clean. ‘Mr Cortez, there’s something I have to tell you and you may not like it.
I’m not the man you think I am.’
‘What?’ Cortez’s face screwed up like that of a bulldog chewing on a wasp. ‘Then who are you exactly?’
‘I came to find Dr Holtz, not the other way round,’ Harker explained, as the minister’s cheeks began to twitch in anger. ‘She gave me a tour of the site, but that’s as far as my involvement goes in whatever is happening here.’
‘You sneaky bastard,’ Cortez fumed, infuriated at the realisation he had just disclosed his secret penchant for equestrian activities to a complete stranger.
‘I apologise,’ Harker waved a hand in the air, ‘but I have to know what’s going on here, and believe me when I tell you it has nothing to do with your personal proclivities – which won’t go any further, you have my word on that.’
Harker’s openness did little to assuage the minister’s growing anger and he continued to glare. ‘So who the hell are you?’
‘You know who I am: Professor Alex Harker, Cambridge University.’
‘Yes, I know that. How do you think I got your photo? I pulled it off the web. I mean what are you doing here?’
‘It’s a long story, but I met with Dr Holtz of my own volition.’
Cortez slumped slightly as if the wind had been knocked out of him. ‘When I heard you and Dr Holtz had both been pulled from the water by the coastguard, I just assumed you were one of her recruits.’
‘Recruits?’
‘Yes, Dr Holtz has had a few archaeology buffs brought down here over the past few months. After Dr Michael Wexler left so unexpectedly, I just assumed you’d been brought in to replace him.’
‘Didn’t you wonder why he left?’ Harker was surprised at how little the minister seemed to know about anything.
‘When one is being blackmailed, Professor, one tends not to pry too much,’ Cortez replied bitterly. ‘But I did at least demand to meet them beforehand, to give them my official permission to visit the site.’
Harker eyed the minister suspiciously, but he needed no longer than a few seconds to decide that he was being told the truth. Yet there was still something he needed to know. ‘Does the word “Mithras” mean anything to you?’
Cortez remained blank faced, then shook his head. ‘No, doesn’t ring any bells. Should it?’
‘Obviously not,’ Harker replied with a growl, his frustration seeping to the surface. ‘Well, if you can forgo any legal comeback claiming I was attempting to blackmail you, then I am happy to forget we ever had this conversation.’
The compromise was met with a firm nod from Cortez and Harker was just about to thank him and leave when something buzzed past his ear. He jerked his head to one side and rubbed at it with the palm of his hand, assuming it to be a flying insect. But as he looked towards the minister he realised exactly what it was. A thin line of crimson trickled down Cortez’s face from forehead to nose, and his eyes now seemed vacant as Harker spotted the small bullet hole where his forehead and the hairpiece joined. With a twitching of his shoulder, the minister’s legs gave way and his body crumpled to the ground.
Harker spun around in time to catch sight of a silencer poking out from the rear passenger window of a black 5 Series BMW, which was even now shifting its aim towards him. He leapt off the steps of the medical centre, ending up in the middle of the road just as another shot pinged the tarmac inches from his shoe. His heart now racing, Harker lunged across the road to reach an angle behind the car where the gun couldn’t get a clear shot without shooting through the vehicle’s rear window. Then he jumped to his feet and took off down the street.
Behind him could be heard the sound of screeching tyres, but he had gained a good head start and reached the corner of the building just as another shot was fired, slamming into the nearby brickwork, a spattering of fragments catching him on the cheek.
‘Jesus Christ,’ he yelled and came to a sharp halt so as not to slam into somebody heading the other way.
‘Nope, just me,’ Doggie said with a smile before Harker tore the cardboard tray from his hands, sending hot coffee everywhere, and propelled him backwards.
‘Run, Tom, now.’
If there was one thing you could count on Dean Thomas Lercher for, it was self-preservation, and so he quickly followed Harker along the side street, off to the right and onto a narrow walkway, as the sound of tortured rubber careened away in the distance.
‘What are we doing?’ Doggie yelled, as the two men raced along the narrow path.
‘We’re being shot at!’ Harker yelled back. The dean seemed unfazed until a further shot clipped the nearby wall just as they dived into the nearest side alley.
‘We’re being shot at!’ Doggie yelped in sheer terror, picking up the pace.
‘I know,’ Harker growled angrily. ‘Just keep running!’
The sound of the car had faded, the alleyway too tight for it to follow, but this respite had no effect on Harker and, as they entered the small hospital car park, they continued sprinting towards where they had left the rental car.
Harker reached it first, but in the heat of the moment he slammed his arm into the driver’s door, knocking the key from his hand. With clenched teeth he grabbed it off the ground, jammed it into the lock and dived inside, while Doggie flung open the passenger door and leapt in to join him.
‘What the hell is going on?’ Doggie yelled, as Harker started up the engine.
‘They just shot the minister,’ Harker wheezed, struggling to catch his breath.
‘Minister? What minister? I thought I was just getting us coffee!’
Harker ignored him, slammed the gearstick into first, and revved up towards the exit before coming to a screeching halt.
The black BMW was sitting in the road opposite, its engine purring lightly. Harker glared towards it, but all its windows were blacked out, even the windscreen. As he snatched a look off to his right to ensure the coast was clear, the BMW began revving its engine lightly, as if challenging them to make a break for it.
‘Doggie, sit right down in your seat. This is going to get a little rough.’
Doggie nodded compliantly and sank into his seat. Then, as Harker tightened his grip on the steering wheel, a police car slowly appeared around the corner and made its leisurely way towards them, the two officers inside looking relaxed as if just going about their normal duties.
‘Doggie, sit up now,’ Harker said, now sounding much calmer. The dean peered over the dashboard and began to wave frantically. ‘Stop that!’ Harker ordered, slapping the man’s hands away, leaving Doggie looking absolutely bewildered.
‘Are you crazy, Alex? Flag them down, for goodness’ sake.’
Harker ignored his plea and instead slowly pulled out of the exit, right in front of the police car, and continued up the street at a steady pace. As he approached the traffic lights at a T-junction, he came to a complete halt, even though the lights were showing green. In the rearview mirror Harker could see the black BMW still waiting patiently. As the yellow, blue and white police car passed by, the BMW pulled out and began to follow, as if in a convoy. Timing would now be crucial. As the police car came to a halt behind them, it honked its horn because the lights were green.
‘Change, damn it,’ Harker muttered, giving an acknowledging wave to the boys in blue. Just then the lights turned yellow and he pulled off to the right, leaving the other two cars behind him. Within fifty metres, Harker had the accelerator pressed to the floor. Despite a good lead they would be hard-pressed to outrun the BMW in this clapped-out, ten-year-old Fiat, but given the airport was less than two miles away, they still had a shot.
‘Why on earth didn’t you stop and get help from the police?’ Doggie roared, anything but happy with the decision. ‘Those people were shooting at us. Have you lost your damn mind?’
‘That’s exactly why I didn’t flag the cops down, Tom. The lot in the BMW had just murdered Gibraltar’s Minister for the Environment, so do you honestly think they wouldn’t add a couple of policemen to the body count?’
Doggie took in this terrible information and then began to shake his head in bemusement. ‘What the hell is going on?’ he yelled, slamming his fist against the dashboard. ‘The last thing I knew is we were about to enjoy a nice latte.’
‘Not any more,’ Harker replied, glancing in the rearview mirror to see the black BMW turning onto the main road some distance behind them, while the police car went trundling off in the opposite direction. ‘Hold on.’
At the next junction Harker turned right with such speed that the whole vehicle groaned as it struggled to hold the road, then he gathered speed with each gear change, like a professional racer. He found it fascinating how the fear of being shot focused the mind, as he sped onwards, each minor bump threatening to overturn the car like a bouncing ball, its suspension straining under extreme stress.
To anyone who has not visited the Gibraltar, it might come as a surprise that pretty much every road there leads to the airport. But as Harker rounded the last corner, he realised the mistake he had made in his eagerness to escape. The entrance to the Dudley Ward tunnel loomed ahead, and as they passed inside it a feeling of dread settled in his stomach. This was not only the longest way round but it afforded nowhere to go but straight ahead. Logistically it was the worst route he could have taken.
The Fiat’s engine whined in protest as Harker held the pedal to the floor. They would make it out of the tunnel in less than forty-five seconds, but the BMW had already appeared behind them and was closing in fast, and now gunfire from an automatic rifle began to rip through the air.
‘Get down,’ Harker yelled as a spray of bullets shattered the back window. One passed between the front seats and collided with the radio, sending shreds of plastic and metal flying everywhere. Harker slid down in his seat and began weaving back and forth across the painted road dividers as a second burst rang out. If their pursuers got alongside them, the tyres would become a prime target, so Harker continued to block their attempts to catch up every time he heard the BMW begin to accelerate, while the thud of spent bullets hitting the boot vibrated through the vehicle.
The Shadow Conspiracy Page 11
