by Tom West
‘I’ll have that,’ Ampstle snapped.
‘Not so fast.’ Matheson held it up and turned it end to end. ‘Such a lot of fuss over something that looks so ordinary.’
‘I said hand it over.’
‘And what if I don’t?’ Matheson hissed. Without a hint of warning, he tossed the cylinder to Amelia and dived forward stunningly fast, sending the fat cop flying backwards.
Matheson was on Ampstle before the man had time to even cry out in surprise. Landing his fist in the sergeant’s face, he screamed, ‘Run, Amelia . . . Go!’
39
‘At fucking last!’ Hans Secker said when he heard the Afrikaans-accented voice of Herman Toit coming down the line.
A cold silence.
‘What happened?’ Secker asked.
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning, asshole . . . what the fuck happened? You’ve been off the grid for three days.’
‘Mr Secker, with respect . . . shove a fucking fork up your ass.’
Another cold silence, then Secker said: ‘The Boss has been considering other options.’
‘Well, that’s up to her. I have other demands upon my time. Shall we call it a day?’
Secker could hear Toit’s voice quieten as the man moved the receiver away from his face.
‘Wait!’
A cold silence.
‘Where are you?’
‘I’m in Moscow, doing my job, Mr Secker.’
‘OK, Toit, I apologize. Bring me up to date . . . please.’
Toit paused for a moment, turning the screw a little. ‘The scientists are here, watched over by MI6 and the CIA. They have made a breakthrough with the Kessler Document, but I have no definite information . . . yet. I believe that the document was spirited out of the Soviet Union in the early fifties. Word has it that it was placed aboard an American submarine.’
‘“Word has it” sounds fucking vague, Toit.’
‘Surely you wouldn’t expect me to give you my sources, would you, Mr Secker?’
‘So, what now? I assume you have a plan?’
‘I always have a plan. I have been forced to improvise to a degree; things on the ground here are . . . well . . . changing very fast. I am almost certain the scientists have precise information relating to the location of the document.’
‘We must acquire that knowledge and then dispose of Bates and Wetherall.’
‘I think that would be nearly impossible, and actually completely futile,’ Toit replied.
‘Explain.’
‘I believe it is possible they have already passed the information on to MI6, although I cannot be certain. Also, killing them would both be a logistical nightmare and send up a red flag. A better solution would be to force the information out of them. And, I hate to disappoint you, but even then it will not be possible for you and your boss to have exclusivity: as I just said, I think it very likely MI6 have the facts already.’
‘She’ll not be happy about that.’
‘Happiness is a rare commodity these days, Mr Secker. Very rare indeed.’
40
Moscow. Present day.
Kate leaned down and planted a kiss on Lou’s cheek. ‘I’ll start packing,’ she said and waved as she stepped between the tables and out through the ornate doors into the foyer of the Grigovna Zempska Hotel.
‘So the next step is to locate the sub, right?’ Lou leaned across the breakfast table and lifted his coffee cup as Adam Fleming spread marmalade on his croissant.
‘Yes, and that’s no easy task. The coordinates narrow it down to a couple of hundred square yards, but the Norwegian Trench is the deepest part of the North Sea. As of first thing this morning my government has clearance from Norway, but that was just a matter of diplomacy. Finding a fifty-year-old wreck in two thousand feet of water is quite different.’
‘I think I know that, Adam.’
‘Yes, sorry, of course you do. That’s why we need to get you to London asap.’
‘Our real work can begin at last.’
‘Quite.’
Lou glanced back to where Kate had left the room. ‘So what’s the story with you and Kate back in the day?’
Adam stopped chewing for a second, swallowed and lowered the rest of the croissant to his plate. ‘We were friends, Lou. Surely she told you that.’
‘Exactly what she said.’
‘I can’t lie though. I wanted it to be more.’
‘I can understand that,’ Lou commented and sipped his coffee. ‘I imagine she was popular at Oxford.’
‘Certainly was. I was way back in the queue, and well . . . I guess I just wasn’t her type. Anyway, long, long ago in a galaxy far, far away.’
Lou nodded. ‘I assume you found someone else, Adam.’
He took another bite of his breakfast. ‘Yes, I did. Celia. We married in 2009.’
‘Must be hard, being married and doing your job.’
Adam took a deep breath. ‘She died, three years ago.’
‘Oh, man, I’m so sorry.’
Adam shook his head. ‘It’s all right. I’ve learned to talk about it. You’re not the first . . .’
Lou raised his eyebrows and exhaled through his nose. ‘Well, I’ve probably ruined your morning.’
Adam grinned. ‘Of course not. Celia was also in the service. She was quite brilliant. I met her at Oxford. Kate never knew her. Kate and I sort of drifted apart and I ended up with a different set – different parties. You know the sort of thing.’
‘Yep.’
‘Celia was killed in an anti-terrorism operation. I had a rough time of it for a while. I guess I blamed the service. I was angry. But, I worked it out of my system, found a new balance, got back on with the job.’
‘Even the blackest clouds can have a silver lining apparently.’
‘So I’ve heard.’
‘Right, well I’d better give Kate a hand, I guess.’ Lou drained his cup and pushed back his chair. ‘What time is the cab?’
‘Ten, sharp.’
‘Cool.’
Out in the foyer a large group of Japanese tourists had arrived and were checking in. Lou squeezed past, found the lifts swarmed by the new arrivals and took the stairs.
A maid’s trolley laden down with toilet rolls, fresh towels and bottled water blocked the corridor two doors short of the room. The maid emerged from the room she was servicing just as Lou tried to move the trolley.
‘Pozhaluysta . . . Please,’ she said and stepped over to guide the trolley out of the way. Lou gave her a warm smile, found his door card and slipped it into the lock.
‘Kate? How’s it going?’
No reply.
He walked through into the small seating area adjoining the bedroom. No sign of her.
‘Kate?’
The bathroom was empty.
Lou pulled out his mobile, punched the speed dial and pulled the phone to his ear. The network took a few moments to find the number and then started to purr. After five rings it went to a messaging service.
‘Damn,’ Lou exclaimed and flicked off the phone.
He gazed around the empty room. His case was on the bed half packed, Kate’s stood close to the end of the bed, zipped and locked. His eyes drifted towards the window, the drawn curtains and an ornate occasional table between two armchairs. There was a folded piece of white paper leaning against a fruit bowl in the centre of the table.
Lou walked over. As he picked up the sheet of hotel stationery and scanned it, he felt a tingling shoot up his spine.
ALERT THE AUTHORITIES AND SHE DIES. KEEP YOUR PHONE ON.
41
‘How could you let this happen?’ Lou glared furiously at Adam. They were sitting opposite each other at the table in the bedroom, the note on the surface between them.
Adam had his hands raised. ‘I told you, Lou, I take full responsibility, OK?’
‘So, what are you going to do about it? How do we find her?’
He lowered his hands. ‘You saw me call London. My p
eople are on to it.’
‘And the note said no authorities.’
‘They mean the Russian police.’
Lou gave the agent a poisonous look. ‘And how are your people going to find Kate without the help of the cops?’
‘We have our methods. Leave this to me.’
‘Leave it to you?’ Lou stood and leaned over Fleming, his face contorted with fury. ‘Like I left it to you to protect us here? You’re the fucking intelligence agent. Kate and I are scientists!’
‘Calm—’
‘Don’t tell me what to do, Adam.’
Fleming had his hands up again. ‘We will do everything humanly possible to find her.’
Lou turned away and pulled out his phone.
‘Who . . .?’
Lou ignored him, walked across the room and sat on the edge of the bed.
Fleming strode over. ‘Who’re you calling?’
‘Mind your own fucking business.’
Fleming made to grab the phone. Incensed, Lou snarled at the MI6 agent.
‘Jerry . . . yeah, sorry, man, I know.’ A pause. Lou started pacing. ‘We have a situation here.’
42
Lou caught sight of Jerry before the naval officer saw him and strode over to the revolving door of the Grigovna Zempska. They embraced and Lou turned to the bellboy with Jerry’s bag. ‘It’s OK, we’ll take it,’ Lou said.
They walked over to check-in and a few minutes later they were in the bar. It was approaching midnight.
‘You look tired, buddy,’ Lou said as two beers arrived.
‘Military transports aren’t the most comfortable,’ Jerry replied. ‘But I managed to grab a few hours on the train after we crossed the border and I was given the third degree by the guards. I got Fleming’s report on my phone. Any other news?’
‘Adam is doing all he can. I wasn’t too happy with him when Kate disappeared.’
‘I can imagine.’
‘He’s out now with another agent. He has to juggle finding her with keeping the whole purpose of our stay here from the Russians. He can’t go to the FSB or the FSK.’
Jerry nodded and emptied half his glass in one go. ‘And you haven’t heard anything from whoever took Kate?’
Lou lifted his phone. ‘Not a word, but I have this beside me at all times. Fleming’s people have it tapped. So when I do get a call . . .’
They turned to the door and saw Fleming walking towards them. He looked exhausted. Jerry offered his hand, he took it then sat on a stool rubbing his forehead.
‘You look like you need a drink,’ Lou said and called the barman over. ‘News?’ he added as he absent-mindedly signed the bill the waiter offered him.
Fleming looked pained. ‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’
‘What do you mean?’ Lou snapped, then checked himself and glanced around. Aside from a couple in the far corner, the three of them were alone in the bar. ‘How can that be?’ Lou said in a hush.
‘Nothing . . . so far, Lou. We are doing—’
‘Yeah, you said this morning . . . You’d do everything humanly possible.’
Jerry turned to his friend. ‘Lou, I know it is hard . . . fuck, I can’t begin to imagine . . . but we have to think constructively here.’
A double whisky arrived for Fleming and Jerry ordered two more beers.
‘What I don’t understand,’ Lou said, a desperate look in his eyes, ‘is how anyone could have known we had the information from the archive. I presume that’s what they are after.’
‘I’ve been thinking about that too,’ Fleming replied. ‘There were only a handful of people involved and it makes no sense that Sergei or his people would be behind it.’
‘So, it must have been another intelligence leak,’ Lou said. He turned to Jerry. ‘You heard about the farce with that character Zero?’
‘A precis, yeah. He acquired his Intel from some leak between agencies, is that right?’ Jerry turned to Fleming.
‘He was watching MI6 and CIA moves and not reporting anything back to his superiors because he wanted a piece of the action . . . well, actually, he wanted all the action himself.’
‘Could it have been him then? Zero?’
‘That was my initial conclusion.’
Lou gave Fleming a hard look.
‘I didn’t say anything because it was just a first theory . . . in my experience they are usually wrong.’
‘But?’ Lou said.
‘I was right not to chase it up. Arseny Valentin, aka Zero, was dragged from the Moskva this morning at just about the time you found the kidnap note.’
‘Fuck!’
‘It is not public knowledge, and won’t be. He was an FSB agent. One of our embedded operatives passed the news on to me.’
‘Well, then I don’t understand,’ Lou said.
His mobile rang. Lou grabbed it and pushed the ‘accept’ button.
‘Yes . . . yes,’ Lou said. ‘I understand . . . but look, what are . . .?’ He exhaled loudly. The other two could hear a man’s voice spilling from the iPhone receiver. The blood had drained from Lou’s cheeks. ‘Yes . . . OK, OK. Right . . . I get it! I want to speak to my wife. No . . . I want to speak . . .’
Lou’s head slumped forward, the phone in his lap. Jerry extended a hand and gripped his friend’s shoulder.
Lou looked up. ‘They want the location of Phoenix. A physical, paper map with the precise details – latitude, longitude and depth. They’ve given me a set of coordinates . . . somewhere called the Khimki Forest, 6 a.m. One chance, they said . . . One chance. Fuck it up and Kate dies.’
43
Lou hadn’t slept a wink, just sat in the chair close to the massive window in the room he had shared with Kate. He had watched the night sky, the moon moving across the punctured black, the field of stars seeming to shift as the world turned on its axis.
Now, well before dawn, he sat in the foyer downstairs still feeling small and insignificant. How was it, he thought to himself, that he and Kate had chosen to be scientists, but kept finding themselves caught up in intrigues and inter-governmental conspiracies? How had they become strange bedfellows with the military, the FBI and MI6?
The risks he and Kate took diving hundreds of feet or poking around old and unstable wrecks were one thing, but what the two of them were involved in now . . . this was a different sort of danger; one over which they had no control, one that forced them to be entirely dependent upon others. He hated that, it went against his character.
Jerry appeared as the lift doors opened and strode towards him across the vast Persian rug that covered the centre of the foyer. ‘You obviously haven’t slept.’
‘Impossible,’ Lou replied. ‘Heard anything about the phone tap? Do we know who we’re dealing with?’
‘’Fraid not. Fleming briefed me ten minutes ago. The call to your mobile was scrambled and triple re-routed . . . No trace.’
They turned and saw Fleming come in through the revolving door bringing a gust of freezing air with him. ‘I have the hire car,’ he said. His face was pale. Flakes of snow began to slowly melt on his shoulders.
He sat down the other side of Lou, removed a glove and plunged a hand into a pocket of his fur-trimmed parka. ‘And here is the camera I was talking about last night.’
He lifted a device between his thumb and index fingertip. It was about a quarter the size of an aspirin and as thin as foil. Leaning forward, he fixed it to the collar of Lou’s greatcoat. It was almost the same colour as the fabric and virtually vanished.
‘It’s on permanently, recording now, and lasts for eight hours. It’ll help us ID the kidnappers.’
He removed a laminated sheet of A4 card and handed it to Lou. He glanced at it. It was a map mostly showing the blue of the North Sea. To the right lay a strip of green – the west coast of Norway. A red dot indicated the precise location of the wreck.
‘Let’s go,’ Fleming said.
The roads were quiet. Lou sat in the back, alone; Jerry in the passenger seat;
Fleming drove. Before they set off he punched in the coordinates: 55° 56' 6"N 37° 26' 48"E. None of them spoke as Fleming took the Volkswagen Polo east on the E22. The lights of the city began to slip away behind them. At five-thirty the sun was still some four hours from rising and the traffic was thin, building a little on the main roads with early risers heading to work. Lou let the soporific beat of the wipers roll over him as they swept away large flakes of snow from the windscreen.
Twenty minutes after leaving the hotel they reached the inner ring road, Moskovskaya Koltsevaya Avtomobilnaya Doroga, the MKAD. Turning north, they joined heavier traffic and it started to snow harder. Passing Khimkinskiy Lesopark, an expanse of green on their left, they reached the junction of the MKAD and the northbound M10. Taking the freeway, in a few minutes they could see the outlying birch trees of Khimki Forest, a thousand hectare national park that had recently been a battleground between conservationists and property developers, a conflict the green groups had won.
Fleming checked the GPS. ‘The meeting point is in view on the screen now,’ he announced and tapped the panel on the dashboard. Lou leaned over Jerry’s seat as they both peered at the display.
‘Looks like a junction of two tracks about four miles to the north-east of here.’
Pulling off the main road, they took a narrow east-bound unmade road, the Polo bouncing on the ice-hardened track, its suspension complaining loudly. They stopped a hundred yards along the path. Fleming jumped out and Lou took the wheel. Derham lowered himself into the passenger footwell, pulling a Beretta 9mm from his pocket. Fleming squeezed into the narrow space between the back and front seats.
Lou took it slowly, one eye on the GPS, watching the red cursor marking the car’s position as it moved along the representation of the track on the screen, drawing closer to the agreed meeting point.
