Latent Hazard

by Piers Venmore-Rowland

  Kate and Rafi were eventually dropped at their hotel, with time to shower and dress for dinner.

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Kate. ‘Do I look smart enough?’

  The sleek, dark emerald, satin dress fitted her perfectly. Her matching high heel shoes lifted her almost to Rafi’s height and accentuated her slim figure.

  ‘Wow, you look stunning. Yep, you’ll do very nicely!’

  The dinner was held in a formal dining room. The Embassy had spared no expense. During the pre-dinner drinks Kate and Rafi were introduced to their prospective boss, Jörg Emcke. He was of average build and height, with receding hair – and introduced himself with great enthusiasm.

  ‘I heard you wanted to know what my English was like. It’s good, but I still find the English sense of humour impossible. Don’t worry; I enjoy a good laugh, particularly when it’s at the expense of those we catch.’

  The individuals alongside whom they would be working looked genuinely unimpressive. They could have been having dinner with a team of auditors who were in the middle of a particularly dull company audit. However, Rafi soon found that appearances were very deceptive. The pairs were drawn from France, Italy and Poland.

  The French police chief, Stephanie Doucet, looked businesslike. She was wearing a plain trouser suit and looked to be in her mid- to late forties. Rafi discovered that she had worked for the Parisian police force and then Europol and, like Kate, had specialised in criminal financial activities.

  The Italian detective introduced himself as Celso Morassutti and his Polish counterpart was Ludomir Jablonkowski. Both, Rafi learned, had substantial experience of dealing with organised crime; the background of their sidekicks remained a mystery.

  At dinner, Rafi’s suspicions were confirmed. He had had a feeling that the group had met before and were sizing up the two newcomers. There was great interest in the jobs he had done. However, he sensed that they had been fully briefed and were only filling in the gaps. On the other side of the table, Kate was also being discreetly quizzed.

  After the main course was cleared away, Jörg stood up. ‘This won’t be a long speech. A couple of hours should do!’ He winked at Kate. ‘Probably a lot less! As you know we’ve been tasked with advising the President of the European Commission on what should be done to improve financial transparency. He wants there to be a level playing field, so that when EU tax harmonisation comes in, it will be harder for EU companies and individuals not to pay their taxes. This unit’s formal role is to be the data gatherers. The sums involved are immense, as is the political will. Tens, if not hundreds of billions of Euros per annum are involved. Technically we will be part of the European Court of Auditors, who conveniently have their offices around the corner from us in rue Alcide De Gasperi. We therefore will have excellent resources at our disposal.’ He paused and then went on, ‘That is the front under which you will be operating. Your real task is to understand how the criminal and terrorist fraternity use the current opaqueness of the financial markets to assist them in their activities. Whilst the ways of criminals and terrorists are not identical, the atrocity of Stratford shook us and made us realise that it was as if a small army had declared war. Our activities will remain covert. Our aim is not to go out there and arrest people or close down bent corporations; it is to gather evidence that others will use to thwart the criminals and terrorists. I trust we shall keep a low profile.’

  Jörg studied Kate and then Rafi. ‘Seven of us have met before on several occasions. Good progress is being made in setting up our office in Luxembourg. This evening we are joined by the last two members of our team. They perhaps look on the young side to us. However, their track record speaks for itself. They bring to the table cutting edge experience of the lengths to which terrorists and criminals will go in order to get their way. Their knowledge will complement our skills-base. You’re a team of equals – if there’s to be any pulling of rank that is my prerogative and my prerogative alone. Unless I hear any dissenting comments, I shall assume that you are all willing and happy to work together as a team.’

  He looked around and then continued. ‘On that basis, you will be expected to report for duty at our new offices a week on Monday. That, I trust, will give you sufficient time to sort out your affairs at home, to dust off your suitcases and to find suitable accommodation in Luxembourg.’

  Jörg sat down, picked up a large cigar, chopped off the end, carefully lit it and started puffing as though he had no cares in the world – and smoking bans didn’t exist.

  After dinner things became more informal. They were ushered into a comfortable sitting room where they chatted and bounced ideas around. Rafi looked around the room: there was definitely an esprit de corps. The special task force was up and running.

  At just after 1 a.m., Jörg said he was calling it a night and left with a simple parting remark: ‘It has been a good evening. I look forward to seeing you all in our office on Monday week at 9 o’clock for a strategy meeting.’

  It was almost 2 a.m. when Kate and Rafi walked back to the hotel, hand in hand.

  The wind had a nip to it, but Rafi had a warm feeling inside him; it had been an exhilarating evening.

  Back in the hotel room, Kate flipped off her shoes, sat suggestively on the corner of the bed and looked across at Rafi who had taken off his jacket and tie.

  ‘What do you think of this situation we’ve got ourselves into?’ She sounded very excited; it was as if she was on fire from within. ‘I’m the luckiest girl in the world. My two wishes have come true: a fantastic job where I can do something worthwhile and a man at my side for whom I would do anything.’

  ‘And what about my wish?’ enquired Rafi.

  She smiled and looked into his dark eyes. ‘I wonder what that might be?’ She turned her back to him and said, ‘If you could help me with my zip . . .’ but let her voice trail off.

  Rafi sat next to her, ran his fingers provocatively down her back and felt a small shudder race through her.

  Kate stood up and faced Rafi; her satin dress slipped silently to the floor, revealing her breasts enticingly covered by a lacy black bra, inches from Rafi’s face.

  Rafi sat still, taking in the sight before him. He was captivated.

  ‘Do you like . . .’

  Rafi kissed her. The sentence was left unfinished.

  He felt his shirt being unbuttoned; as it went over his head, he stood up and moved closer to her. Her body was warm against his. Their lips met again – her tongue danced provocatively between his lips. He could taste a hint of Cointreau, which brought back memories of the orange-scented bath oils at the Savoy and the first time he’d seen her lovely body.

  He felt her hands effortlessly undress him. Her fingertips tenderly caressed his naked body. Kate was enjoying the electric effect her teasing was having on Rafi’s heightened senses.

  Rafi reached over and switched off the light. He lifted the sheet and slid under the crisp cotton, closely followed by Kate.

  ‘Spoilsport,’ whispered Kate into his ear. ‘I was enjoying exploring your body. Now where was I?’ she asked playfully as she disappeared under the covers.

  Rafi tingled all over as she slowly explored his aroused body. She worked her way back up to his lips and kissed him lovingly.

  ‘I meant what I said: I’d do anything for you,’ she said as she moved on top of him. ‘At the Headland hotel when I saw Dranoff’s eyes latch on to mine and the sawn-off shotgun come out from under his coat, I was petrified. I froze. Out of the corner of my eye I glimpsed you flying down the stairs screaming at him, trying to draw his attention away from me. It all happened so fast: me thinking I was about to die, you screaming, firing and Dranoff blasting both barrels at you. I saw the wooden banister rail disintegrate into splinters only centimetres away from your body and when you landed motionless in a gory mess at the bottom of the stairs . . .’ Kate tenderly kissed his lips. ‘In that split second, I realised how very much I loved you. You offered up your life to save mine. I was
awestruck. It was as if my brain was rewired. I vowed there and then that if you lived I’d do absolutely anything for you; and that if I made you happy, then I’d be happy too.’

  She snuggled closer. ‘My fantasy is to make you blissfully happy,’ she whispered into his ear.

  The next morning, when Rafi woke, Kate was sleeping soundly in his arms. He lay there not wishing to disturb her, savouring the memories of the erotic night before – a night he would remember.

  They had a late, lazy breakfast, showered together and were several minutes late for their meeting with Jeremy for a coffee in the hotel lobby.

  ‘My, you’re looking radiant this morning,’ Jeremy said to Kate. ‘I see that Luxembourg with a man in tow suits you.’ He smiled at Rafi. ‘Who’s the lucky one?’

  The question needed no answer.

  ‘I hear that the dinner went well,’ Jeremy continued. Rafi resisted asking whether they’d been bugged.

  ‘Jeremy, how much do you know of what Rafi and I are up to?’ asked Kate.

  Jeremy smiled. ‘Ewan has briefed me. I’m to be your liaison with MI5 and MI6. I’ll be based at the Embassy and will have a desk next to yours in your offices.’

  ‘That’s great. Anything else I should know?’

  ‘Don’t tell Emma and Jack yet, but they’ll be part of your London support team.’

  ‘Fantastic!’ Kate gave a gleaming smile. ‘And is there anything more?’

  ‘I understand last night you had lengthy conversations with the three police officers but found their partners less than forthcoming.’

  ‘Yes. They were rather secretive.’

  ‘Probably best if they bring you up to speed once you start working with them. Basically, Pierre Simmon works for the DGSE, La Direction Générale de la Sécurité Extérieure, which is France’s equivalent to MI6. Luca Duilio gained an impressive track record with the Italian Anti-mafia Investigative Directorate; he’ll tell you in due course what he’s been up to for the past couple of years. By the way, Bernhard Michalak from Warsaw and he are good friends. Bernhard at one time worked for the Stasi in East Germany and then had a stint on secondment to the FSB, the Russian Federal Security Service. He is a specialist on the whys and wherefores of organised crime in those former Russian states that are now part of the EU.’

  Rafi looked carefully at Jeremy. ‘They are a forbidding team, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yep, I’m glad that they are on our side. Heaven only knows what all of you will dig up.’

  Their coffee was finished and they said their goodbyes. Kate and Rafi went off to explore the shops. After lunch, Jeremy had arranged for them to meet one of the Embassy staff who had been flat hunting on their behalf.

  The afternoon was spent looking at apartments. The first looked nondescript from the outside, was comfortable and homely on the inside, but had poor views. The second flat was smaller. However, it was only a short stroll from the office, it overlooked a small square and was conveniently located for easy access to the airport. The main rooms were light and airy. The master bedroom was a good size and had an impressive en suite bathroom. In the basement there was secure parking for two cars.

  Kate liked it and so did Rafi. It would make an ideal and comfortable home for a couple doing a fair amount of travel. They decided not to look any further.

  ‘Is it within our budget?’ Kate enquired.

  ‘Money won’t be a problem,’ came the reply. ‘When you’ve settled in, do let me know if you need any changes and I’ll happily coordinate them for you.’

  Four hours later, Kate and Rafi were back in Clapham, sitting on the floor in front of her gas fire. They were tired but elated by the prospects of their new lives.

  Lying on the table amongst the post was a smart envelope with a crest on the back. It was addressed to both of them. Their company was requested at a reception and dinner at Windsor Castle, six weeks later.

  The day of the dinner arrived. They had taken half a day off and arrived at Kate’s flat in the early afternoon. Kate was dithering.

  ‘It’s alright for you; a dinner jacket is a dinner jacket, end of problem. What shall I wear?’

  ‘I thought you’d already bought an evening dress?’ replied Rafi.

  ‘Well, that’s the problem!’

  ‘You’ve left it a bit bloody late!’

  ‘No, it’s just that I have a couple of options and then there’s what shoes and jewellery to wear.’

  ‘How’s about you put all your choices on the bed and we go through them?’

  ‘Would you be willing to sit through me changing in and out of things and faffing around?’

  Rafi nodded, trying to look enthusiastic.

  ‘Give me a moment and I’ll get everything out.’

  What seemed like ages later, Rafi heard a call from the bedroom.

  He sauntered down the corridor, wondering what he’d let himself in for, and pushed open the door. There, standing in front of him was Kate with her hair up in a sophisticated style. Around her neck was a most exquisite gold necklace of blue gemstones with diamonds, pointing down to her lacy bra, panties, suspender belt and sheer silk stockings.

  ‘Now watch this.’ She walked into the evening sunshine. The blue gemstones in the necklace and the matching earrings turned a fiery amber colour, setting off her freckles perfectly. ‘Magic, isn’t it?’

  ‘Stunning. What is it?’

  ‘Blue amber. I’ve always wanted to wear it but never had the occasion before. It’s been hidden away since my granny died a few years back.’

  ‘Did she have the same colour hair as you?’

  Kate nodded.

  ‘I can see why she gave it to you. It’s fabulous. I love how the amber changes colours so. You look ravishing.’

  They walked back to the bed. Four long dresses were draped across the duvet cover.

  Rafi picked up a pale gold dress which had an almost translucent quality and shimmered as it moved in the light. He wasn’t certain about the colour, but Kate seemed to like it. He suggested she try it on.

  ‘Do you think the colour is too much with my hair? A little shop in Milan made it and the matching shoes especially for me. I paid them a visit while I was working there a couple of weeks ago.’

  Rafi watched as she slipped it on and noticed how it enhanced her subtle curves. He was amazed and very surprised. And there was something about the colour that accentuated the beauty of her skin and hair.

  ‘It’s perfect – you look ravishing. There’s no need to look any further.’

  ‘In which case we have a bit of time to kill,’ said Kate suggestively, slipping off the silk dress. ‘It’s a bit cluttered in here. How’s about we try the sitting room?’

  The taxi arrived outside Kate’s flat on time. The twenty-mile journey to Windsor Castle was good for the time of day.

  Emma and Aidan had been surprised to receive official invitations from the Queen to celebrate the State visit by the President of the European Commission. Neither had expected the other to be there. The seating plan had them next to one another near the top table. Kate and Rafi sat opposite each other at the other end of the room with a European Council member, two immensely wealthy Continental European industrialists and a French newspaper editor, Jean-Michel Coeurs.

  Kate and Rafi noticed a lot of famous faces as they mingled during the pre-dinner drinks. The Royal family, senior politicians and the movers and shakers of the British economy were out in force.

  At dinner, Rafi’s conversation with those sitting around him ebbed and flowed. It turned to international businesses and whether too many were exploiting accounting and taxation loopholes. Surprisingly, it suddenly got interesting.

  The industrialist on Rafi’s left explained, ‘As the chairman of a listed company, I have analysts crawling over practically everything we do. I’ve got to play by the rules.’

  ‘That’s your prerogative,’ countered the other industrialist. ‘I find life so much easier running a private business. I have a f
lexibility that gives me a distinct competitive edge.’

  ‘What about the Commission and its approach to matters financial?’ Rafi asked.

  This sparked off a lively debate.

  ‘Remind me how many millions – or was it billions? – of the Commission’s budgets were unaccounted for last year?’ asked Jean-Michel, the journalist.

  ‘I can’t answer that question as the accounts aren’t due out for several months,’ countered the bureaucrat defensively.

  ‘OK, what was the figure for the year before, approximately?’ asked Jean-Michel.

  ‘Roughly, in percentage terms, around . . . 1%’

  This seemed to rankle Jean-Michel. ‘That’s over E1 billion. It would be bad enough if that was the correct figure, but I believe the true figure is far, far greater. Didn’t the European Court of Auditors raise serious concerns about where the E80 billion spent on agricultural and structural projects actually went?’

  ‘Yes, there are undoubtedly a number of grey areas,’ replied the unembarrassed bureaucrat.

  The topic of conversation continued until the speeches, but the disputed figure still hadn’t been resolved.

  Rafi mentally missed most of the speeches. His mind was on the recent conversation. Two things struck him: firstly, the lack of concern that the bureaucrat had about the Commission’s unbalanced books and the system’s opaqueness, and, secondly, the opportunities to which the private industrialist had alluded, which enabled him to play the system, make easy money and enjoy being accountable to no one. Then there was the journalist, Jean-Michel; he seemed to know his stuff. Rafi made a mental note that he was a man worth talking to.

  After the dinner, whilst Kate and Rafi were waiting for their taxi home, Jean-Michel came over and said his goodbyes. He too was on his way back to Central London.

  ‘Why don’t you join us? We practically go past the front door of your hotel,’ suggested Kate.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said.

  During the forty-minute ride into London they chatted about various things. After a lull in the conversation he turned to Kate and said, ‘I believe we have a mutual friend?’