The traffic on the motorway was surprisingly light and they made good progress out of London, past Heathrow and on towards Reading.
‘How about brunch?’ asked Kate.
‘Great idea,’ replied Rafi.
‘There’s a service station coming up shortly – is that alright with you?’
Rafi nodded. Baked beans and service station food, both in the space of twenty-four hours – how things were changing for him!
As Kate was pulling over towards the service station exit, her phone rang.
‘Hi, Kate,’ said Jeremy in a businesslike tone, ‘Sorry to break in on your well-earned holiday, but something has come up. Aslan Popovskaya, the terrorist we captured at Heysham, has escaped from hospital. We haven’t got a clue where he’s heading, but given all that has been going on recently he’s likely to be like a bear with a sore head. Where are you off to?’
Kate gave Jeremy the hotel details.
‘I’ll get a fax sent with his mugshot, just in case.’
Kate passed the service station, indicating to Rafi that they would stop at the next one.
There was a stony silence in the car.
‘Why would he come after us?’ Kate asked Jeremy.
‘Well, I suspect it is Rafi he’s after. Who has had their face plastered over the papers recently? And who, according to the news coverage, helped the police and messed up the terrorists’ plans, robbing them of their multibillion payout?’
‘OK, I get your line of thinking. But no one knows where we’re going – or do they?’
‘No, you’re right, but better safe than sorry.’
‘Do you have any leads on where Popovskaya might be?’
‘We have one long shot which we’re following up. Colonel Matlik and his Russian contacts have sent us details of all the other mercenaries that they have on their most wanted list. We have distributed the photos and names to all airports and ports, just in case one of them comes over to help Popovskaya. The new face recognition and gait assessment software at Heathrow airport has picked up a potential match. A brute of a man travelling on a Polish passport arrived there from Budapest an hour and a half ago. He has an uncanny resemblance to a former Chechen army officer, Radu Dranoff, and is on the list we have just received. We gave his and several other passengers’ luggage a spot check, and at the same time picked up his mobile phone number. I have a team tracking his mobile phone calls and his movements. At the moment he is on a coach heading for Oxford. I have got another call… Must go. Do please keep in contact.’
‘Will do and thanks for the call.’ Kate flicked off her phone. They sat in silence until they arrived at the service station just after Swindon.
‘Well, what a way to start our holiday!’ said Rafi who looked across at Kate’s strained face.
‘You know what our problem is?’
‘No,’ he replied.
‘You and I have become too hot a story. One sniff of us being in Cornwall and the flaming paparazzi will be all over us like locusts. Hey presto, within less than twenty-four hours the terrorists will know where we are.’
Rafi nodded. ‘Well, at least Jeremy has a lead and the new Chechen arrival is probably only here to get Popovskaya safely out of the UK.’
‘I hope you are right. Do you know what I love about you, Rafi? It’s your optimism.’ Kate leant across and gave him a peck on the cheek. ‘Come on, my tummy is rumbling. I need to keep my energy levels up for all the exercise we’re going to take in Cornwall.’
They chose their food in the cafeteria, Rafi pulled out his wallet and paid at the till. Then he noticed that in amongst his other banknotes was a damaged?20 note which hadn’t been there when he had last looked. Attached to it was a Post-it with a scribbled message: ‘You might like to frame this as a souvenir!’ It was signed by Jeremy. Rafi smiled to himself.
Breakfast was far better than he’d imagined. Kate tucked into a full English breakfast. He looked across at her slender frame and wondered where she managed to put all that food. She scowled as she caught him staring.
‘I wish I had your metabolism,’ he chuckled.
‘Is that why you were staring? What a disappointment – I thought you were ogling!’
The journey was uneventful but then, thirty miles from Newquay, Jeremy phoned again.
‘Hi guys!’ He sounded upbeat. ‘I’ve got some news for you. Our Chechen with the Polish passport received a phone call half an hour ago. It was from a mobile phone which we’ve traced to outside Lancaster, which is near where we had Popovskaya in a secure hospital unit. Putting two and two together we think that our two Chechen mercenaries are on their way to meet up. Thought you might like to know. I’ve sent a fax with their details to the hotel. I’ll keep you posted. Goodbye.’
It had been a one-sided phone call as Kate hadn’t been able to get a word in. Jeremy had sounded upbeat, but both Kate and Rafi felt it had been an act. She put her hand on Rafi’s knee. ‘Even if we jump to the conclusion that they are after you, at least we’ll have one, maybe two days before they’ll know where we are. Jeremy and his team will look after us; don’t worry.’
Rafi sat staring out of the window.
Kate looked subdued. ‘This is no way to start a relationship. Let’s chill out for the next couple of days and I promise you, Jeremy will keep an eye on our backs. If you want to start worrying, save it until after the paparazzi have found us. Then we’ll both be in the frame.’
Rafi looked into Kate’s eyes and at her lovely face. ‘I’d hoped to leave the nightmares behind. But at least I’ve got you with me. I agree. No worrying until our whereabouts are common knowledge.’
For the last half-hour of the journey they played a game, trying to guess what the hotel would be like. They knew it stood on its own headland and overlooked a long, sandy bay.
‘You’re a pessimist,’ concluded Rafi.
‘Yes, but with low expectations things must get better.’
‘Is that why you decided on me as your new boyfriend?’
‘Of course, how much worse could it have got? A man locked up as a suspect in a terrorism case, uncooperative and with a useless wrist to boot. Plus, smelly – no, really smelly – unkempt, and that’s just for starters.’ They laughed and the mood in the car became lighter.
In contrast, outside the weather had turned foul. They followed the signs to Fistral Beach, drove past a windswept golf club and there in front of them was the Headland Hotel, an imposing Victorian-style red brick building, overlooking the Atlantic Ocean and the surfers’ paradise, Fistral Bay. Its long driveway went through its own small golf course.
The strength of the wind was driving the rain horizontally. Kate drew her car up near the front door and they sat for a while looking at the heavy rain. She looked at Rafi with a grin. ‘Where did we put the overcoats?’
He smiled. ‘In the boot, of course!’
‘Will we get more soaked making a dash for the front door, or getting our coats out of the boot?’
‘I have a better idea.’ He picked up Kate’s phone and dialled a number. When he got through he asked whoever was on the other end of the line, ‘Would you by any chance have a spare umbrella or two? We’re stuck ten metres away from your front door and we…’
A friendly voice interrupted him. ‘It is rather nasty outside. I’ll get the porter to come and help you in.’
Wielding a large umbrella in high winds and driving rain was a skill that Rafi hadn’t considered until then. They were ferried one at a time into the hotel. Kate went first and Rafi followed, wet at the edges but not soaked.
He walked into the reception area. Kate was standing in front of a roaring open fire. She was beaming.
‘This is just brilliant. I think I’m going to like it here.’
To his surprise she bounced over and flung her arms around his neck, giving him a kiss that was more appropriate to the privacy of one’s own room. Kate finished her show of affection and drew back, noticing that Rafi had started to blush
.
‘Oops, I seem to get a bit carried away at times,’ she said to no one in particular. The hotel was busy for off-season February. Rafi wondered if, like the Savoy, it had also taken more than its fair share of those left homeless.
At the reception desk they were greeted by an attentive receptionist who arranged for their luggage to be taken up to their room. Next to their key was Jeremy’s fax. It contained mug shots of Radu Dranoff and Aslan Popovskaya. Rafi studied Kate’s serious face as she read it. She then passed the fax to him. The three pages of information made disconcerting reading. Popovskaya was made of stern stuff. In his fall from the scaffolding tower he had fractured his left collar bone and broken his left wrist and arm in several places. And now he and Dranoff were on the loose, most likely after them.
‘Shame that Popovskaya is right handed…’ Kate was politely interrupted by the receptionist.
‘We’ve filled up since last week. Please forgive us if the service is a little slower than normal. We’ve managed to find you a comfortable bedroom, though.’
Rafi took the key and, holding Kate’s hand walked across to the small lift. They got out on the second floor. The corridor leading to the room was spacious and newly carpeted. Kate squeezed Rafi’s hand in anticipation as they stood in front of the door. He opened it and they walked in. In front of them was a modest-sized sitting room with stunning views over the long sandy beach and the ocean. A large arrangement of flowers on the side table added to the welcoming atmosphere.
‘Where is the bed?’ asked Kate, sounding like a young girl itching to explore. ‘How about I try this door?’ she said with a bounce in her step and disappeared into the next room. ‘Rafi, look what I’ve found!’
He followed her and there in front of him was the wonderful sight of Kate lying on her back, spread eagled across a large king-sized bed, and bouncing up and down.
‘This is great! I couldn’t have chosen better if I’d tried. Nice, comfy bed – let me change that, a nice, big, comfy bed – great views and peace and quiet. Fantastic!’ Kate rolled off the bed, stood up in front of Rafi, and looked into his eyes. ‘Promise me one thing,’ she said. ‘Let’s forget the terrorists and enjoy the now. Tomorrow can look after itself. It usually does.’
He pulled her close to him and kissed her.
Kate pulled back and straight away sensed Rafi’s disappointment. She paused and spoke just before Rafi was going to. ‘I could do with using the bathroom for a moment. Could you do me a favour and find out when they finish serving afternoon tea?’
A short phone call later, Rafi returned to the bedroom and called to Kate through the closed bathroom door. ‘Tea ends in just over an hour.’
‘Excellent… I’ll be with you shortly.’
Rafi walked back into the sitting room, picked up and put on his jacket, and turned the lights off. He walked over to the balcony doors; it had stopped raining. He opened them and stepped outside into the bracing wind.
Motionless, he stood looking out over the dark ocean, letting the fresh, salt laden air wash over him. He shivered and was about to turn to go back inside when he felt a pair of warm arms wrap around him. He was grateful for the body warmth. Kate nestled closer to him, then backed off. Following her unspoken instructions he turned. Her long sleeved blouse was unbuttoned. A gust of wind flapped open the soft material revealing a naked body… She moved forward and whispered a request into his ear.
Some while later Kate and Rafi lay curled in each other’s arms. He placed a kiss gently on her cheek. ‘I’m going to have to keep my eyes on you! Taking me unawares like that. Whatever will you think of next?’
Kate grinned.
‘No don’t tell me! You look so innocent, but underneath you’re a right little minx…’
She poked him gently in the ribs. ‘Yes… but it takes two to tango!’
Rafi looked at his watch. ‘By my reckoning we have half an hour before they stop serving tea.’
Afternoon tea was as Kate had hoped: scones, clotted cream and strawberry jam in front of an open fire. They chatted, sitting comfortably on a huge sofa while time sped by.
But their cosy little world was shattered when Kate answered a call from Jeremy.
She filled Rafi in. ‘MI5 has intercepted a phone call; Popovskaya and Dranoff have met up, not ten miles from the hospital that Popovskaya escaped from. Unfortunately, they have lost them and have no further information. Neil reckons that they’ll lie low for a couple of days to let Popovskaya recover and then come after us. An SAS team is on its way to watch the hotel and to protect us. They should be here later this evening and we have been advised to sleep in another bedroom – incognito.’
They dressed for dinner, and then moved into the new bedroom the proprietor had found for them.
Dinner was enjoyable; they ate hungrily and chatted, but the vivacity had gone. The nightmare wasn’t over yet.
Whilst they were having coffee, Jeremy phoned. ‘An SAS team of three are keeping watch over the entrances to the hotel. They like the fact that the hotel is so exposed because it makes it difficult for Dranoff to creep up unnoticed. I hope to be with you in about twenty minutes.’
Sure enough, a short while later Jeremy appeared accompanied by a casually dressed individual.
‘Please let me introduce you to your SAS bodyguard: Corporal Brett Johnstone. He’ll be your shadow whilst Dranoff and Popovskaya remain at large. Have you eaten already?’ enquired Jeremy.
‘Yes,’ replied Kate, ‘but I can always find room for another pudding! Do come and have dinner – you’ll like the food.’
‘Excellent,’ grinned Jeremy.
‘How about I find us a nice, quiet table and see if I need to borrow a tie?’ suggested Brett.
He reappeared a few minutes later. Jeremy and Kate were deep in conversation. ‘Dranoff and Popovskaya have disappeared off the face of the earth. We tried to lock on to their phone signals, but their phones are turned off. These two definitely know what they’re doing.’
Jeremy and Brett tucked into a hearty dinner.
‘Neil is sure that you’re their target – payback time for those who got in the way,’ said Jeremy. ‘We have considered other possible targets, but we keep coming back to the fact that Popovskaya will be feeling pissed off, and you, Rafi, seem the perfect person on which to vent his anger. What worries us is who arranged for Dranoff to come to the UK to help Popovskaya. We thought we had all the main players under lock and key, and incommunicado. We know Miti is on the run in Africa, but we don’t believe his influence goes this far. There has to be someone else out there – part of the terrorists’ web -who is pulling the Chechen end of the strings. We’re looking again at the teams run by Kaleem Shah and Kim Chindriani to see if we missed someone, but haven’t found anything yet.’
Jeremy paused. ‘Neil doesn’t think they know that we are on to them. My colleagues are keeping an eye out for stolen guns or vehicles reported between here and their last known locations.’
‘When do you think that they will come for us?’ asked Kate.
‘Unfortunately,’ said Jeremy calmly, ‘As soon as the paparazzi are on to you, your location will become public knowledge. Realistically, you could expect company any time from tomorrow early afternoon. Neil would like you to stay put, so if they do come for you, the SAS can protect you. The alternative is for you to go into hiding and wait for them to come after you… which I wouldn’t recommend.’
The conversation moved on to the terrorists captured at Safi.
‘They’re due to arrive in Plymouth tomorrow. I shall be there to greet them; one of the perks of my job!’ said Jeremy.
‘How badly were the terrorists damaged by their investments in the markets?’ asked Brett. ‘Jeremy has been describing what they were aiming to do, and how they got caught with their pants down!’
‘I spoke briefly to Aidan earlier today,’ Rafi said. ‘He says that the markets have been remarkably resilient. But in the areas where the terrorists were playi
ng the derivatives market, prices have moved sharply against them. They’re sitting on some truly massive losses. With Maryam, Jameel and the sheikh unable to make contact with their dealers, their positions will be sold. Aidan reckons their collateral will be too little to cover their margin calls. As a result the dodgy banks that acted as intermediaries will also be put through a financial shredding machine.’
Jeremy smiled. ‘Good – serves them right.’
‘Aidan is optimistic that several other shady people will be caught red-handed. He’s been liaising with Neil, who’s following up a significant list of very interesting leads. Maryam, it seems, is in bed with a number of European investors, many of whom are super wealthy, very well connected and of dubious character. Time will tell if they are just plain greedy or are in fact crooks,’ added Rafi.
After dinner, Brett and Jeremy walked with Kate and Rafi to their room. Brett had been given a room on the other side of the corridor, near the top of the stairs, and proceeded to set up a selection of listening and monitoring devices in their room and along the corridor.
Rafi and Kate said their goodnights and retired to their new twin bedroom. Rafi sat tentatively on the edge of his single bed.
‘I’d been really looking forward to this evening,’ said Kate. ‘Now we’re stuck with single beds and bugs!’ she grinned. ‘Would you like a good night’s sleep or company?’
‘Both please.’
‘I wonder how we might manage that?’ Kate said with a grin. She headed for the bathroom. ‘There’s no bath but we do have a big shower,’ she called to Rafi.
As if he had read her thoughts, moments later he was standing at the bathroom door in his next to nothings.
‘You don’t hang around,’ said Kate.
To Rafi’s delight the shower had a range of settings. He was under a warm torrent when Kate joined him and changed the setting to a fine drizzle.
‘Now where would you like me to start?’ Kate picked up the bar of soap and smelt its inviting scent. ‘How about your back?’
Rafi turned round and faced the shower wall.
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