Avenger

by Andy McNab

  It was two minutes past contact time and Danny was about to walk back to the coffee shop when another lift arrived at the ground floor and the doors slid open. Elena was there, in a crowd of seven or eight people.

  The brush contact was still on; late but still on. Danny dropped the leaflet back onto the desk and turned to walk towards the lift. As he neared Elena, he could just see the small black 35mm film container in her right hand. He thought back to the first time they had attempted this manoeuvre, when the canister had ended up tumbling to the ground. They couldn't afford a repeat of that disaster; they had no idea who might be watching, and there was also the hotel CCTV system. If an alert security guard saw the contact on a monitor screen, it could easily be taken as a drugs deal, and then Danny and Elena would be lifted and the operation would be compromised before it had even started.

  The gap between them narrowed to less than two metres; there were just a couple more strides for them both. Danny's right hand was at his side; his fingers opened just enough to receive the canister. They had not once made eye contact.

  And then they were side by side, and the canister slipped from Elena's right hand into Danny's. The exchange was as clean and smooth as a perfect baton change by a couple of Olympic sprinters.

  Danny could feel the soft part of the Velcro that Elena had stuck all the way around the canister. He kept walking towards the lifts without looking back; he didn't see Elena go through the revolving doors and leave the hotel.

  24

  In her penthouse suite at the exclusive Four Seasons Hotel on East 57th Street, Marcie Deveraux gazed out through the picture window across the Manhattan skyline as she spoke into her Xda. 'She's going where?'

  'A Japanese restaurant,' said Danny into his mobile as he re-read the note Elena had slipped into the canister. 'At the Time Warner Center at Columbus Circle. He's made a reservation and she's on her way there now.'

  Deveraux had heard of the new, highly acclaimed development on the south-west corner of Central Park, but had not yet visited it. The two massive towers housed expensive office space and a luxury hotel and were connected by a huge glass and steel central area with classy restaurants and shops. 'Give me the name of the restaurant,' said Deveraux into her Xda.

  Danny was in his room at the Hotel Pennsylvania. He read out the name written on the paper.

  'What else?' snapped Deveraux.

  'Elena's sure there must be some sort of surveillance device in the room. She's sure he's watching her somehow.'

  'Just as we thought. Continue.'

  Danny was desperate for news of his grandfather. 'What about my granddad? What's happened?'

  'There's nothing I can tell you at the moment.'

  'What? But you must have done something to get him out!'

  'It isn't easy, Danny. Your grandfather has been a wanted man for a very long time. Special Branch believe they've made quite a coup in capturing him. We are attempting to persuade them to hand him over to us, without giving details of exactly why we want him.'

  'But surely you can—'

  'Enough!' said Deveraux. 'Now continue with your sit rep.'

  Danny knew there was no point in pressing Deveraux further; she would say nothing more. He looked at the note Elena had written. 'Black Star has given her a BlackBerry. They're making contact through a website, but Elena says he's told her it's completely secure.'

  'Yes, I'm certain it is. What about her DLB? Where is it?'

  'Back of the drinks dispenser along the corridor on her floor,' said Danny as he double-checked Elena's instructions. 'And we're using a concrete waste bin outside the hotel as our "DLB live" marker location.'

  The sky was darkening and, all over the city, lights were beginning to stud the gloom. 'Good,' said Deveraux as she walked away from the window and sat down on one of the suite's stylish and comfortable sofas.

  Fergus had trained them thoroughly in the limited time he had had. A 'DLB live' marker meant that there was something in the Dead Letter Box for collection. Danny and Elena had both brought small adhesive paper dots in their luggage. If either of them had a message to pass on to the other, they would stick one of the dots on the waste bin to show that the DLB was 'live'.

  'We need that BlackBerry,' said Deveraux. 'Leave Elena a message for when she gets back tonight. We need to know Black Star's latest orders, and we must have the BlackBerry tomorrow morning, just for a few minutes. Let her know that it will be out of her control for no more than fifteen minutes.'

  'But. . . but what happens to the BlackBerry when I get it? Maybe Black Star will know we have it.'

  Deveraux had no intention of wasting her breath giving Danny information he didn't need. 'I want that BlackBerry by o-nine-thirty hours. Elena will leave her room for breakfast long before then. You will decide on the time, method and place for the contact and you will leave Elena the details tonight. I will call you at o-eight-hundred hours with your RV instructions for when you have the BlackBerry. Do you understand?'

  'Yeah, but what if—?'

  Deveraux's voice rose with irritation. 'Just do as you're ordered, Danny. I don't have time for explanations. And tell Elena to keep the TV set in her room switched on and tuned to the C-SPAN political station when she leaves her room tomorrow. If Black Star asks her why, she is to say it is for security; it sounds as if someone is in the room. Tell her also to put the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door.'

  'Why?'

  'Don't question me. Just do it!'

  Danny was accustomed now to Deveraux telling him the bare minimum. 'Yeah, right. I'll sort Elena's instructions and then get down to Columbus Circle to see what's happening.'

  'You will do nothing of the kind! Once you've made the DLB live, your work for tonight is over. You are to go nowhere near the hotel reception or Elena's floor once she returns. Make the DLB live and then keep out of the way. Is that understood!'

  'But—'

  'Is it understood?!'

  Danny took a deep breath. Deveraux was in command of the operation and was giving the orders, but that didn't stop him worrying about Elena. She was out there alone, and no doubt afraid, and Danny was more conscious than ever of his promise to be there for her. 'I'm just worried about Elena,' he said.

  'You're not here to worry, you're here to follow orders.' Deveraux's tone was controlled but menacing as she continued. 'So follow them.'

  Orders. Always orders. Sometimes Danny found it so difficult to follow orders, especially when they went against his natural instincts. But he ended the call and then sat down to work out how the contact could be carried out. It wouldn't be easy to do a standard brush contact because a BlackBerry was a fairly bulky device. Finally Danny came up with an idea.

  He carefully wrote down Elena's instructions and added Deveraux's orders. Then he added a line of his own:

  This one's from me. Always keep your passport with you for a quick getaway after the op.

  He paused. He wanted to write something else, something more personal. Could he write 'Love, Danny'? He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks when he thought what Fergus or Deveraux would say about that. Wasting valuable operational time on mushy stuff, probably. 'Thinking of you'? 'I'm here for you'? No. Got to be professional. She knows I'm here. Leave it.

  Briskly Danny folded the sheet of paper and put it into the film container.

  He left his room and took the lift down to the eighth floor. The lobby area was deserted, but Danny checked the corridor before going along to the small room housing the vending machines. He slipped inside, pushed some coins into the drinks dispenser and bought himself a can of Coke. Then, quickly and efficiently, he pulled the small container from his pocket and ran one hand down the back right-hand edge of the machine until he found the hard strip of Velcro exactly where Elena had said it would be.

  She had stuck the Velcro at waist height, so that if anyone came along and saw either of them at the machine, they wouldn't be scrabbling around on their knees or reaching up high. Danny quic
kly stuck the canister onto the Velcro pad and went back to the lifts.

  He pressed the recall button, opened the Coke can and took a sip as he waited for the lift. The first part of the operation seemed to have gone, if not completely to plan, at least more or less OK, but Danny was still worrying about Elena as he rode down to the hotel reception. He swallowed the last of his drink and walked out through the revolving doors.

  The street was even busier now, with New Yorkers and tourists rushing past, hunting for cabs or heading for the subway. Danny went over to the concrete rubbish bin just to the right of the main hotel doors. He dropped the Coke can into the bin and, with his free hand, unpeeled one of the red dots from the pack in his jacket pocket; he stuck it close to the rim of the concrete so that Elena would see it as she approached the doors to the hotel.

  He was following the instructions Elena had given him in the canister. The system was simple: each time the DLB was made live by Danny, he would leave a red dot stuck on the bin. When Elena made the DLB live, she would leave a blue dot.

  According to Deveraux, Danny's work for the evening was done.

  But Danny didn't see it that way. He had other plans as he walked away from the hotel.

  25

  The Japanese restaurant was nothing like anything else Elena had ever experienced. She had never eaten Japanese food; she'd had Chinese, but that was usually from south-east London takeaways with their paper menus, Perspex-covered countertops, bottles of soy sauce in display cases and piles of freebie calendars decorated with lanterns and dragons.

  The restaurant of the Mandarin Oriental Hotel was like another world. Elena had followed Black Star's instructions and taken a cab to Columbus Circle. She walked into the Time Warner Center and took the escalator up to the mezzanine.

  The entrance to the Mandarin was close by, but she paused and looked back through the huge glass windows to Columbus Circle itself. It was a huge concrete roundabout where at least six roads met and spewed traffic away in every direction. At its centre was a twenty-metre-high granite column, topped with a marble statue of Christopher Columbus. But Elena wasn't interested in Columbus; she was thinking of Danny, wondering if he was out there somewhere, looking out for her like he had promised.

  Feeling very out of place, she walked into the Mandarin and took the elevator to the thirty-fifth floor of one of the two towers. She was welcomed at the door of the restaurant like a familiar and valued customer.

  The restaurant was subtly lit and tastefully decorated, with panoramic views over Central Park and Manhattan Island. The tables were covered with white linen and immaculately laid, the cutlery nestling next to sparkling wine glasses. One wall of the room was entirely covered with rack upon rack of wine bottles.

  Elena was shown to a secluded booth and informed that each course of her meal had been selected in advance.

  As she waited for the first course, she glanced around the busy restaurant, feeling nervous and self-conscious. It was obviously the haunt of the wealthy and influential. Some diners were chatting loudly to each other, talking business deals; others were speaking on mobiles, texting, or even working on palm-top computers. Even though the working day was over in New York, it didn't mean that work ground to a halt.

  Most tables had at least two diners, but Elena's eyes were searching for those eating singly. She picked out two men and one woman who were alone at their tables. The woman was elderly and heavily bejewelled. There was no way she was Black Star.

  One of the men was young, mid to late twenties, using his chopsticks like they were welded to his hands, enjoying his meal down to the last few grains of rice.

  The other man was older, dark-skinned and smartly suited. He was talking on a mobile phone but, like everyone else, appeared to be taking absolutely no notice whatsoever of Elena.

  It was hopeless. Black Star was probably nowhere near the restaurant or even Columbus Circle, but even so, Elena constantly had the feeling that somehow he was watching her. Suddenly she became aware of English accents, loud English accents.

  Across the room a group of mainly young men were seated around a large circular table. Their striped shirts and garish ties were as loud as their voices. Elena could hear them talking finance and deals and percentages and profit margins. It was obvious that they worked for one of the business organizations that had recently moved into the Columbus Circle complex.

  One of the men, who appeared to have had too much to drink, began arguing with a waiter over a missing plate of prawns. 'Well, you make bloody sure they don't turn up on the bill when it arrives,' he said loudly. 'I'm in finance, you know. I check bills.'

  Elena looked away. 'Prat,' she said to herself.

  The waiter brought the first course; as he placed the dishes on the table, he saw Elena's look of confusion.

  'Crab,' he said with a smile. 'Fennel and green almond mousseline, with blue crab consommé jelly.'

  Elena tried to look as though she knew exactly what the waiter was talking about as she nodded her thanks. He smiled again and moved silently away.

  The food looked and smelled good, but Elena wasn't really hungry. With her body on UK time, it felt too late to be eating. She picked at the starter but soon pushed away the plate with most of the food still remaining, then got the BlackBerry out of her bag.

  As she logged on, the waiter reappeared and glanced at her plate with a look of disappointment. 'You don't like crab?'

  Elena smiled. 'It was lovely. I'm just not very hungry.'

  The waiter shrugged. 'That's a pity; there are many more courses to follow. Perhaps the chef's lobster will tempt you. Or the suckling pig.'

  He gathered up the plates and moved away. Elena looked at her BlackBerry as Black Star's first message appeared on the screen.

  Hi Cola, so wot d'u think???

  Elena looked around the restaurant again; everyone appeared to be having a great time.

  Its very nice.

  She could almost feel the rage in Black Star's reply.

  Nice!!!!!!! Sure its nice!!! Cos those guys there r the haves. They got everything they want, they don't care about the likes of u & me. Nothing ever went wrong 4 those guys. Look at them, smug, plenty of money, no problems, they got everything they want. But did one of them give u a second look, or even a smile????

  The bile of Black Star's words hit Elena with a familiar jolt. This is what the last few months had been like, and the anger and hatred of their online conversations had gradually affected her mood. At first she had been a willing participant, but more recently – although she had never really admitted it to Dr Jacobson or even to herself – it had started to change the way she saw the world. And here it was happening all over again. She suddenly felt her spirits sink.

  She looked around at her fellow diners, telling herself it was the tiredness that was making her feel so low, but then she found herself thinking that perhaps Black Star was right: they all looked ugly, wolfish, smug and self-satisfied in their own wealthy worlds. She tapped out her reply.

  The waiter smiled.

  Sure the waiter smiled – hes paid 2 smile. And even he wouldnt stop 2 help if he saw u injured in the street. Just wanted 2 remind you what a crap world it is, Gola. But we'll show em, Gola. U r the 1 with the POWER!!!

  Elena moved the BlackBerry slightly as the waiter returned with a dish of lobster and noodles. He placed the dish on the table and turned quickly away. All at once it did seem to Elena that his smile was false. That he'd decided he'd done his best to interest her in the food on offer; if she wasn't hungry, she shouldn't have turned up at the restaurant. Satisfied customers usually meant a good tip. She clearly wasn't a good prospect.