Entanglement

by Michael Brooks

  Right back at him. The gloves were off.

  She leaned in towards him. 'Nathaniel Virgo, you don't understand what you are into here.'

  There it was. That was what he had been waiting for. Despite her better judgement, she wanted to destroy him right now, drain the fight out of him by allowing him to see the magnitude of what was going on. But he was stronger than she knew. She would simply be laying herself bare by giving him the information he wanted.

  If he played it right.

  'Try me.' Would she bite? She bit.

  Genovsky lowered her voice. 'There's going to be a hijack. We have been asked to demonstrate just how vulnerable the United States still is.'

  'Who's we?' He hesitated for a moment. What was the name on the phone message? 'Is Wheelan involved?'

  Genovsky furrowed her brow, ever so slightly. And he couldn't tell why. Because she didn't know how he knew the name?

  She said nothing. He had to move this along.

  'This hijack – how does that work, exactly? Have you hired a bunch of terrorists? You don't seem the type.'

  Genovsky raised her eyebrows and forced out a laugh. 'Now, come on, Virgo, I have to keep something to myself.' She focused in on him. 'So, what's it to be? Are you going to give me that disk?'

  'Are you going to tell me what it's for? Do you even know? Or are you just your boss's courier service?'

  She didn't flinch.

  'Look, Virgo, you didn't mean to get into this, and there's no reason for your family to die. Do the right thing and save those close to you. A bunch of strangers on a plane don't matter to you. Give me the disk, and I will set your wife and your daughter free.'

  It was his turn to force a laugh. 'Oh, come on. Why would you set them free when you have the disk? You'll kill me, then them, and everything will be tidy.' He paused. 'I might as well go to the authorities now.'

  She smiled again. They were still dancing, circling. 'Yes, you could go to the authorities now,' she said. 'You could go with what I've told you, and be safe in the knowledge that your family died in a worthy cause. Maybe. Of course, it's not clear that anyone would believe your story in time to stop things. Not with all the bodies piling up in your wake. And it's not clear the UK authorities would be able to do anything to stop our action anyway. Our command comes from very high up, you know. We really do consider this worth doing.'

  'Who's we?'

  She ignored the question and focused her stare on him. 'Do you want me to give you a sliding scale? Let you know how many people we are going to kill? Would you sacrifice your wife and your daughter to save the lives of a dozen strangers? A hundred? A few hundred? How many would it take? How many people's lives are your family worth? Shall we see if we can reach an agreement?'

  Bitch. This was going nowhere.

  'There's no way you'll get away with this,' he said. 'They'll know about this without me. The authorities, the intelligence services, they'll be all over you. They will never let you get away with something like this.'

  That smile again. 'You really haven't been listening. In this game, we are the authorities.' She paused. 'So what are you going to do?'

  'I'm not bargaining with you.'

  'Then give me the disk,' she muttered. Her eyes flicked to a pair of armed policemen thirty metres across the hall. 'You're making us look suspicious. It's time to move on, Nathaniel.'

  Why had she suddenly used his first name? What had changed?

  'I don't think so, Alexandra,' he said. He looked over his shoulder at the policemen, then grabbed her hand and squeezed it hard. 'We're just lovers failing to settle our differences before we part. You are worried about the authorities, aren't you? On this side of the Atlantic, at least. It would be a shame if they got the disk and you and me, wouldn't it? Where are you going, Alex? Maybe I could bring you the disk when I know my family is safe.'

  Virgo turned. The policemen were looking directly at him. He pulled out the disk, and motioned towards them.

  'Or I could . . .'

  She grabbed him before he finished the sentence, his cheeks between her palms. The force of her kiss took him by surprise, and Virgo found himself returning its intensity before it occurred to him to pull away. Genovsky stole a glance at the policemen again, then set her empty eyes back on Virgo.

  'I'm going to Boston,' she said. '1629 Atlantic Avenue, Suite 31, on the harbourfront. I will keep them alive until tomorrow at midday. Get the disk to me by then, and I'll make sure they stay alive a little longer.'

  She waved, smiled, turned and disappeared through the departures gate.

  Virgo forced himself not to look at the police again. Had he won that round?

  No.

  But he'd bought himself a few more hours.

  The woman at the United counter didn't even glance up at his request for a seat on their next flight to Boston. If he could get through security fast enough, he would make it onto Genovsky's plane. But first he had to buy some clothes and luggage. He couldn't afford to raise anyone's suspicion.

  Genovsky's cash was more than enough to buy what he needed: an economy-class ticket, a travel bag, a few odds and ends – a phone charger, a toothbrush, a couple of magazines to avoid looking like he was travelling suspiciously light – and two complete changes of clothing. He chose plain clothes: beige and grey and no labels. Maybe he would even wear them. At the moment, that was what his half-formed plan demanded. Tomorrow morning, when he had to fit in with the students at Boston University campus and find a way into Laszlo Gierek's laboratory, he would look just like the real thing.

  CHAPTER 27

  RACHEL VIRGO LIFTED HER sunglasses and looked around. All the clichés were there: flawless sky, shimmering turquoise ocean, swaying palm trees, white sand. It was just starting to get dark, and salsa music blasted out from a streetside bar behind them.

  'Well, what do you think?' she asked her daughter.

  Katie looked up at her. 'It's pretty nice,' she said. 'Better than Brighton.'

  Rachel laughed and lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the last glare of sunset. A passing Chevrolet honked at them, and the driver waved, holding up his hands.

  'You need a ride, my ladies?'

  They shook their heads and he pulled off into a dusty side road. Rachel's eyes followed the car. The engine was misfiring from time to time, and the tailpipe belched an acrid smoke. Seconds later, however, the air smelled of sea and spices again. Plenty of Europeans were shuffling along the strip, but they didn't spoil the place. The locals were obviously accustomed to their perpetual presence, and hardly anyone had tried to sell them anything. Rachel looked at her watch. 'Shall we go back and unpack? Or do you want to get something to drink first?'

  Katie jumped up from the sand. 'Let's go and have a drink. Can I try a mojito?'

  Rachel laughed. 'No chance. You can have some wine with dinner, but you're not drinking in any bars. Anyway, I thought you were in training?'

  Katie sunk her hands into the pockets of her long skirt and headed towards the market square. Rachel followed, watching her daughter's walk. Nat was right; you could hardly tell most of the time.

  Nat was so desperate for Katie to be normal. When he'd called Rachel from the hospital, he kept telling her it was his fault. She was going to lose her leg, and it was his fault. His editor had him chasing a story; he had texted Katie, told her he'd be late meeting her. But he'd been late for a thousand meetings before that one. It wasn't like Nat needed encouragement to chase down a story; Katie knew better than that. She would have shrugged, carried on chatting to her friends, meandering around at the mall. That she crossed the road at the exact time the lunatic flew through the lights – that wasn't Nat's fault. That was how life worked. Or didn't.

  The chaos of bodies forced them to amble, hardly moving, through the main shopping street. The guidebooks said street crime was almost non-existent, but Rachel had the Londoner's habit and occasionally put a hand to her shoulder to pull on the straps of her daypack. How long did it take
to get out of that state of vigilance and unease? she wondered. A few hours? A few days? When did you finally consider yourself relaxed?

  'What d'you think, Mum?' Katie held a brown leather purse in front of Rachel's face. 'Shall I buy it? It's really cheap.'

  Rachel glanced over the stall. There were all kinds of goods: bags, wallets, bracelets and purses, all beautifully crafted. The leather filled the air with a rich scent. 'We're here for a week, sweetheart. You don't have to decide today.'

  Katie hesitated, then put the purse back. 'You're right.'

  God, that was easy. Katie was obviously in a good mood.

  The stallholder came out from behind his table and smiled. 'Americana? Inglesa? I'll give you good price, beautiful lady.' He nodded at Rachel. 'You too. You two beautiful ladies. You are sisters, yes? I can do good price for beautiful sisters. What you want to pay?'

  Katie laughed. 'Tomorrow,' she said. 'We'll come back tomorrow.'

  'Come. One hundred pesos. Good price.'

  They walked away, and the price dropped to fifty. Two steps later, it was thirty. They both laughed as they heard it drop to twenty-five.

  They wandered up the Avenida Primera. The bars they passed all looked the same, and Rachel peered hesitantly into each one before moving on to the next. Eventually, Katie dragged her into a dimly lit room with El Galéon written above the door. They sat at an empty table facing the street.

  'Mojitos?' The waiter, dressed in a red cotton shirt, startling white chinos, and flip-flop sandals, was tall and attractive. His glance shifted between them.

  'Bit early for me,' Rachel said. 'Agua mineral con gas, por favor. Katie?'

  Katie looked up and beamed at the waiter.

  'Mojito,' she said.

  'No.' Rachel pointed at her daughter, then looked up at the waiter. 'Coca-Cola.'

  The waiter paused for a second, smiled slyly at Katie, then walked slowly towards the bar.

  'It was worth a try,' Katie said with a smile. 'Anyway, I think he fancied you.'

  Rachel didn't bother to reply. When would Nat get here?

  A couple of minutes later, the waiter returned with their drinks. He smiled at Katie again. It was obvious to Rachel that she was going to have to keep her daughter on a tight leash. At least until her father got here to take his share of the responsibilities.

  She swilled her water, rattling the ice round the glass. Her feet were tapping to the rhythms pounding from the speakers above the door. Across the street, two children dressed in faded T-shirts and over-long shorts were dancing, shuffling their feet around the dusty pavement and clutching at imaginary partners. Their timing and footwork were impeccable, though passing chickens occasionally got caught up in their swirling rumba, and a well judged kick would interrupt the flow of intricate steps.

  Twilight was closing in on them. The air was still and hot, but Rachel felt a shiver pass down her back. 'Come on,' she said, eventually. 'Let's go back and get unpacked. Maybe your dad's left a message at the hotel.'

  Katie drained her glass, and they both got to their feet. Rachel walked out behind Katie as her daughter turned in the doorway. It took her a moment to realise that Katie's coy wave and even coyer smile was directed towards their waiter.

  Rachel hoped to God that Nat was already on his way.

  CHAPTER 28

  'WELL, LOOK WHO'S HERE.'

  Genovsky was in business class, staring at the map on her LCD screen. The white silhouette of the plane was flashing over the coast of Greenland. She seemed lost in thought, and it took a moment before Virgo's words registered and she lifted her face up towards his.

  'Don't look so surprised,' he said. Confidence, he told himself again, as he had when walking up the aisle towards her. Confidence would be the key. 'There's not so many planes to Boston, and I didn't want to be late.' Virgo motioned to the empty seat next to her. 'Mind if I sit down?'

  Genovsky said nothing, and he sat. A flight attendant in a pencil skirt eyed him with suspicion. He smiled at her, then at Genovsky.

  'Do we have anything more to talk about?' Genovsky said. She flashed a glance at him. Something in her eyes looked nervous now, like he was too close, and had pierced her defences. Her features, the contours of her cheekbones, were sharp, but there was a sadness there too.

  'Genovsky – what is that? Czech?'

  'Bulgarian,' she said. 'But I'm an American citizen now.'

  'Congratulations.'

  She smiled, but the smile was only on her lips. Her eyes had gone back to just sucking in the light.

  'Are you a terrorist?'

  'The less you know about me, the more chance there is that I will let you walk away.'

  'You're going to let me walk away, then?'

  'That's not what I said, Nathaniel.' She took a breath. 'Do you know what's on the disk you have?'

  'No. But tell me about the entanglement. It sounds fascinating.'

  She looked at him, eyes narrowed.

  'I've told you enough already. Give me the disk now, Nathaniel. Ignorance can be bliss.'

  'Is bliss,' he said. 'Ignorance is bliss. But good use of idiom.' He needed more. 'OK. Just tell me this,' he said. 'Did Laszlo Gierek ever tell anyone else he had created entanglements on a disk? I mean, it's a hell of an achievement. How did he keep it to himself?'

  Genovsky scowled. 'He didn't. He told Paul Radcliffe. And you know what happened to him.' Her gaze was fixed on him. 'Wheelan gave the order for that himse–' She pulled up, and her voice dropped. 'There's no protection for you, Nathaniel. The best you can do is save your family.'

  Wheelan – that name again. He turned his head to look at her. There was no trace of deception on her face. That would have to do. It wasn't bad, considering. She knew about the entanglement, and she seemed convinced it was real. Now all he needed was some time. And to know who the hell Wheelan was.

  Genovsky sat forward in the seat. 'Why don't we bring this to a close now? Give me the disk and it will all go away.'

  It was his turn to smile. 'Oh, come on, Alexandra. We both know the disk I have is the only thing stopping you from murdering my wife and daughter.' The words hissed out slowly, like overpressure gradually released. 'Like you murdered Laszlo Gierek.'

  'Was Gierek a friend of yours?'

  The question deflated his hostility as he glanced out of the window. 'No,' he said, 'I didn't know him at all.'

  'Well, I considered him a friend.'

  Virgo turned his head back towards her in surprise. 'But you killed him anyway?'

  Her gaze pierced him, reaching through him to the window behind. She hesitated before she spoke.

  'I had my orders. I had no choice. Laszlo gave me no choice.'

  'There's always a choice.'

  He felt her gaze move off him, like a searchlight swinging away into darkness.

  'That's what I used to think, too,' she said. Her voice was suddenly melancholy. 'But it's not true.'

  She was staring out through the window again. This conversation was over now, he could tell. He stood up.

  'I've learned a thing or two today, Alexandra,' he said. 'But let's talk some more tomorrow.'

  She didn't bother to reply. She didn't even turn her head. Virgo moved back up the aisle towards his seat. Tomorrow was going to be a hell of a day. But he could still pull this off.

  CHAPTER 29

  THE CLICK AND HISS of sprinklers calmed the simmering air. The lawns of the Hotel Los Delfines were perfectly manicured, dotted with tall, lush palms and threaded with white gravel paths. It felt exotic and decadent to Rachel, who nodded at the gate concierges in their red and white uniforms and then ambled through the gates towards the front entrance. She'd been uneasy about coming to Cuba. In the end she had agreed to come here, hand over her tourist dollars, because she'd heard about the suffering the US trade embargo had caused. She read the newspapers, she knew how screwed up the American attitude to Cuba was. But she had reservations about visiting a revolutionary communist state for a beach holiday.
No one was starving but plenty of people were hungry. Not that it was Castro's fault, exactly. But somehow, the two didn't seem to fit together.

  Their suite was on the second floor, with a balcony overlooking the beach. Katie headed for the stairs, but Rachel veered towards the reception desk. 'I'm just going to see whether your father has left a message,' she said. 'You've got a key, haven't you?'

  Katie pulled a white plastic card-key from her pocket, waved it at her mother, then disappeared up the stairs. Typical. She wouldn't even take the lift. To Katie, everything was a challenge to be overcome.

  There was no message from Nat. Rachel thought about taking the lift herself, but decided it wasn't worth the wait, not for two flights of stairs.

  As she approached the door to the suite, she slid the daypack from her back and opened the zip pocket where she had stowed the key. The plastic slid in and out of its slot with a soft click, and she pushed down on the handle and opened the door.

  'Nothing,' she called, walking down the hallway towards the living room. 'You would have thought he'd try to call, at least.'

  Through the balcony windows she could see the dark twinkling of night falling on a moonlit ocean. The silhouette of a sailboat sat on the fading horizon.

  There was no reply, and the living room was empty. Katie must be in her room, unpacking – or daydreaming about that waiter. Rachel paused, unsure whether to knock on the door, or leave her to it. Best to leave her, just for a moment. She stepped onto the balcony, and looked down at the white sand beyond the palm trees. The evening smelled of flowers and wood smoke; someone had lit a fire on the beach.

  Where was Nathaniel? Was he somewhere in that perfect sky? She took a deep draught of the cooling air.

  She heard a door open. 'Are you hungry, sweetheart?' she said, still staring at the ocean. 'We could go downstairs to the restaurant if you like.' She turned around. 'Or . . .'

  Rachel's voice trailed off. She was staring into the blackened muzzle of a handgun. She couldn't pull her gaze to focus on the man holding it. She was aware only of the smell of tobacco and the blur, far behind the barrel of the gun, of a dark face topped by wavy black hair.