Pulling out his phone, Sean quickly took a photo of the group and emailed it to Anna: Any idea who they are?
The reply came almost immediately:
From left to right: Alain Picquering, MEP, France, Leader of the Socialist Movement Party of Europe (34% of the EU vote); Ruud Ten Harkel, MEP, Netherlands, Leader of the Democratic Alliance of Europe Party (21% of the EU vote); Hans Glass, MEP, Austria, Leader of the European Freedom Front (9% of the EU vote). Strange that they would be dining together. They hate each other!
Sean: 64% of the total vote, wow! Any legitimate reason they’d have to meet?
Anna: Not that I can think of. They go out of their way to make sure they’re never on the same subcommittees.
The group in the small restaurant continued their animated dinner for a further two hours. When it was over, Blom left alone, carrying an A4 manila envelope. He made his way across Place Jourdan and then turned into the Sofitel, making straight for the bar.
‘Looks like he’s a drinker,’ Clive said, as Blom downed two whiskies in quick succession.
After downing a third whisky, Blom glanced at his watch and ordered another, which this time he sipped at for ten minutes, before he looked out of the window onto Place Jourdan and asked for the bill.
Leaving the bar, he walked out of the revolving door at the front of the hotel and then straight across the road into the car park that centred the small square.
‘He’s going to a car. John, bring the Audi around,’ Terry said over the mic.
A chauffeur-driven black Maybach was parked in the centre of the square with its engine still running. The chauffeur sat in the driver’s seat looking forward, but darkened glass prohibited a view into the rear of the car. Without hesitating, Blom walked straight to the rear door and pulled it open, exchanging a few words with the passenger before climbing in. The moment that the door was open allowed Sean a brief glimpse of another man in the car, but he couldn’t make out any features.
Resting his shoulder on the bonnet of another car, Clive was taking photographs rapidly using a long zoom lens, but cursed, noting that he also couldn’t get a decent view of the other passenger.
After spending less than a minute in the car, Blom squeezed his body back out onto the car park and closed the door behind him. Almost immediately, the Maybach started to pull away, virtually scraping Blom’s side.
‘He’s left the envelope in the car,’ Sean said.
‘Terry, follow the Maybach. We’ll stay with Blom,’ Clive said.
Terry quickly ran over to the waiting Audi and jumped in. Two seconds later, he was heading in the same direction as the black limousine.
Hunting for a clue, Sean and Clive followed Blom, as he made his way back to his apartment on Rue Belliard, via three bars, where he downed two whiskies in each.
*
The Café Brussels was a large café in the centre of Place Jourdan, with seats outside overlooking the square. Clive ordered drinks for the three gathered people and began the discussion about what they’d seen, some half an hour earlier.
‘They’re still following the Maybach and it seems to be heading towards Germany. Terry sent the plate through. It’s German, but we don’t have any way of checking who owns it. Any ideas?’ He turned to Anna.
Looking down at the table Sean purposely tried not to make eye contact with Anna, who was now dressed in tight jeans and a woollen jacket.
‘The plate’s from Leipzig, but that’s all I know,’ she replied.
Sean couldn’t help noticing how her demeanour had changed since the time in her apartment. She had quickly shifted from a steamy temptress to a calculating professional. ‘You said that it was odd that the three party heads met with Blom. Why?’ he queried.
‘Just that they make no secret of their animosity towards each other. They have a very different set of beliefs.’
‘Really? Even on the EU?’ Sean said.
Anna paused to think briefly. ‘No, you’re right. They’re all staunch federalists, but Ten Harkel is virtually a communist, while Glas is extremely right wing. They have nothing else in common.’
‘Do you know any of them well enough to ask why they met together and with Blom?’ Sean asked.
‘Yes, when I first became an MEP, I was a part of the Democratic Alliance of Europe Party, so I had a number of meetings with Ten Harkel.’
‘Where’s this going, Sean? I’m not sure Anna should be sticking her neck out like that. They’ll know that she was close to Allsop and if they’re involved in some way … ’ Clive said.
Anna interrupted. ‘It’s okay. I know him well enough to ask and I’m sure he’s not connected to anything to do with Nick’s death. He has some strange political views, but he’s not the type to go to extremes.’
‘Okay, then it’s worth asking, I guess. We should know who Blom met in the car park before tomorrow as well,’ Clive conceded.
When they left the café, they walked Anna back to her apartment. Sean was glad to have Clive with him, although Anna still managed to discreetly tell him to join her later, opening her eyes wide when making the offer.
Hoping that Clive hadn’t noticed the brief interchange, or if he had, he’d understood that it wasn’t welcome, Sean walked back to the Sofitel and went straight to his room, showering quickly before calling Liz, who he told nothing of the events in Anna’s apartment.
During the call, Liz updated him on her research. ‘Blom is fifty-six years old: a Swede from Gothenburg, but now living in Stockholm. He’s been married for twenty-two years and has three children. He was a senior figure in the Swedish Government before taking on the role at the Commission, where he’s been for seven years. His upbringing and education were fairly standard: middle-class, good university, etc. His politics are considered just left of centre and he’s never been involved in a scandal… that I can find, that is.’
‘He sounds pretty dull,’ Sean said.
‘A grey man, like all of them,’ Liz replied.
Describing the situation in detail, Sean quickly filled Liz in on the events in the car park.
‘Weird, but unless you know what was in the envelope and who the other person was, it doesn’t mean much.’
‘I know. We’re working on it. How’s Praew?’ Sean said.
‘She got an A for her maths homework, she’s so pleased and I’m so relieved.’ Sean could almost feel Liz’s passion over the phone.
‘That’s great. Can I talk to her?’
‘She’s in bed, sorry. But I’ll tell her you congratulated her.’
‘Anna said she might be able to help with the Home Office.’ Sean felt his stomach tighten even mentioning her name.
The line went silent briefly. ‘Really? Why? She doesn’t know us,’ Liz said.
‘I know, but she’s an MEP and may have some influence,’ he said, surprised by Liz’s response.
‘I don’t like her, Sean. There’s something about her.’
‘She’s okay. She’s just trying to help,’ Sean said.
‘We’ll see. Be careful around her,’ Liz warned.
Sean shivered. Could she know? Did she sense something?
Chapter Twelve
Tuesday, 29th September. Brussels, Belgium.
‘Terry finally called at 5:30 a.m. He followed the car to a house on the outskirts of Leipzig. I’ve forwarded the photos to both Liz and Anna, to see if they know who the passenger is,’ Clive said, before slurping on a coffee.
‘It’s seven now, only six in London. Liz won’t be up yet. Have you heard from Anna?’ Sean asked.
‘She’s joining us for breakfast. She’ll be here any minute.’
When Anna entered the breakfast room just a few minutes later, dressed in a dark blue pinstriped suit and carrying a black designer briefcase, Sean noticed again how her image changed: one minute the vulnerable shy girl; next the temptress; then the formidable business woman, hard and unapproachable. After pouring herself a coffee and grabbing a croissant, she joined them at
the table.
‘Do you know the person in the photos I sent you?’ Clive asked.
‘Yes, unfortunately I do,’ she said. ‘It’s Ulrich Wagner, one of the less satisfying by-products of German re-unification. He owns steel mills across the old East Germany, and is reputed to be one of Germany’s richest men.’ She paused to take a sip of coffee. ‘Mr Wagner holds some very unhealthy political ideas.’
‘Such as?’ Sean asked.
Considering her response before speaking, Anna placed her coffee back on the table and lowered her eyes. ‘You have to understand that East Germans were trapped in time following the Second World War, unable to communicate with the outside world and fed a diet of communist propaganda. Many of them have very outdated ideas about Europe and the wider world.’
Sensing that Anna was holding back, giving the politician’s answer rather than the direct response, Sean pressed further. ‘And what are his views?’ he said quickly.
Following another sip of coffee, Anna lifted her head, looking straight at Sean. ‘He believes that 1945 was only the end of the second battle of the war for Europe; 1918 being the end of the first battle.’
‘Jesus Christ!’ Clive exclaimed.
‘So he thinks there’ll be another war in Europe?’ Sean asked.
‘Not exactly. He believes that we’re still at war and have been since 1914. Not an armed war anymore, but a quiet war: one which he believes Germany will ultimately win and take its rightful place as the leader of Europe.’
‘Is he a Nazi? Why hasn’t he been arrested?’ Clive asked.
‘Yes, he would also be considered a Nazi, but we don’t arrest people for their opinions in Germany,’ Anna said.
‘So he doesn’t condone violence then?’ Sean queried.
‘On the contrary, he openly advocates it. But he believes that Germany has been made too weak by the treaties signed at the end of both World Wars, so it’s incapable of mounting a third military attempt at domination. He does, however, think that Germany has been winning the ceasefire, and that it can win the war by using its financial and political influence.’
‘Why would an EU Commissioner agree to meet somebody like that?’ Sean asked.
‘I don’t know, but I understand why it was done so secretively. If any EU official was seen in the presence of Wagner, it would be political and career suicide.’
‘Do you think the people that Blom met with earlier could be part of some conspiracy involving Wagner?’ Clive asked.
‘No, in the case of Ten Harkel and Piquering. Wagner would consider France an enemy and the Netherlands as neutral at best. Only Glas, as an Austro-Hungarian, would be thought of as an ally.’
‘Austro-Hungarian?’ Sean questioned. ‘Isn’t that a bit outdated?’
‘People like Wagner don’t use the same map of Europe that we do. In his mind, Germany stretches all the way east to the Russian border, and Austria-Hungary forms virtually all of its southern border, stretching south to Montenegro and east to Romania. France is always the enemy, and the Netherlands are sometimes neutral, but never an ally.’
‘You said people like Wagner: does that mean there’re more of them?’ Sean asked.
Anna smirked. ‘Yes, a lot of people in Germany and elsewhere in Europe believe the same, particularly in the East. But Wagner stands out because he’s wealthy and powerful.’
Glancing at her watch, Anna made her apologies and left for work, followed closely by Phil, while Sean and Clive continued their discussion. They agreed that Terry should stay on Wagner for a little while and watch him from a distance.
*
They were updated on Wagner’s movement by Terry and received various snippets of background from Liz during the day, but nothing out of the ordinary. Wagner had gone to work in an office block in central Leipzig and hadn’t left, other than to have lunch, which he did alone. Liz had uncovered lots of newspaper clippings, but all were in German and she hadn’t yet had them translated. Though some of the photos showing him wearing a military style uniform, similar to the SS uniforms of the Third Reich, were unnerving.
At 7 p.m., Sean collected Anna from her apartment to join him and Clive for dinner. When he arrived she was dressed in jeans and knee-high boots, with a leather jacket tied at the waist, again showing her chameleon-like ability to change her image. Now she looked young and trendy, not the efficient business woman of the morning. Sean was beginning to wonder just how many outward personalities Anna could portray.
When they stepped out to cross the road to Place Jourdan, she linked arms with him and smiled at him affectionately. Again, guilt shot through his veins, and he was glad they were meeting Clive. Have I got anything to feel guilty about though? he thought. The only thing that he was guilty of was not telling Liz about Anna’s advances. But our relationship is just so brittle at the moment. Sean feared that a revelation like that could be the straw that broke the camel’s back.
It was a warm night and they meandered slowly across the road, catching up on the events of the day. Then, just as they crossed the central line, Sean felt a sudden powerful thump in his back, forcing him forward and onto the ground. Almost immediately, Anna fell beside him with a thud, as she landed.
At the same time, right behind him, Sean heard a crunching bang and looked over his shoulder. The sight of Phil’s body being thrown into the air, landing headfirst some twenty metres further along the road, churned his stomach.
With screeching tyres, the vehicle that had hit Phil stopped some fifty metres further on, then the white reversing lights came on as it accelerated backwards towards them. Scrambling to his feet and pulling Anna up, Sean wondered how he hadn’t heard the car approaching, then he suddenly realised that he still couldn’t hear it: it was a Prius, running silently on electric power. He ran towards Phil to pull him from the road, but he was too late, the car got there first and ran straight over him, crushing his chest as the tyres bounced over his ribcage.
‘Run!’ Sean shouted to Anna as he dived out of the way and the car continued in her direction.
Responding quickly, Anna started to run awkwardly in the opposite direction. Clearly she doesn’t run often, Sean thought.
The car gained ground quickly as she ran clumsily away. With less than twenty metres to go to the corner of Place Jourdan, the car mounted the kerb taking out a post box. Seeing the collision just behind her, Anna ran onto the road, but the car followed, just metres behind her. Then, just as it was about to hit her, Anna dived athletically to one side and onto the verge of the park, rolling herself into the grass.
As the Prius stopped, Clive came sprinting around the corner and ran to Anna, just as Sean reached her. Seeing that she was okay, Clive jumped forward, running towards the Prius. When he was just five metres away from it, it shot away silently, turning left at the end of the park.
Leaving Anna trembling with Clive, Sean sprinted back in the direction of Phil. When he reached him, his body was twisted into an awkward position, with his spine bent at a ninety-degree angle below his rib cage. Sean dropped onto his knees and carefully lifted his blood-covered head. His lifeless eyes stared back at Sean without any recognition.
Chapter Thirteen
Wednesday, 30th September. Brussels, Belgium.
The remainder of the previous evening had been spent with the Belgian police. Sean had stopped short of implicating Blom or Wagner, because he knew there was just no evidence and, upon Clive’s advice, Anna had done the same.
‘They were definitely after you,’ Sean said to Anna, who was sitting in his hotel room wrapped in a blanket, still shaken from the experience. ‘If they’d been after me they’d have stopped when they passed me.’
‘Have you called in sick?’ Clive asked.
‘Yes. I said I’ll be back in a week or so,’ she replied.
Reluctantly, Sean agreed that Anna should go to London and stay with Liz for a while. He was yet to tell Liz, which wouldn’t be easy following her comments about Anna.
‘We need to take a good look at Ten Harkel. He was the only person that Anna spoke to yesterday beyond her normal activities,’ Clive said.
‘Are you okay to carry on after what happened to Phil?’ Sean asked.
‘I won’t do anything but carry on, until I find the bastards that killed him,’ Clive replied.
*
‘It’ll only be for a week or so,’ Sean said to Liz on the phone.
‘I don’t care. I don’t like her. There’s something fake about her,’ Liz replied.
Knots formed in Sean’s stomach. He hated to put Liz in such an awkward position, especially given their precarious situation, but he felt obliged. ‘She’s a politician. They’re all fakes,’ Sean said. ‘Please. She’s scared and has nowhere else to go.’
A loud sigh came from Liz. ‘She’s got one week and then she’s out,’ she said, hanging up.
‘Thanks,’ Sean said into the dead line.
‘Terry’s just called. Wagner’s on the move and he thinks something’s going on. There were a lot of people at his house today before he left,’ Clive said.
‘What?’ Sean said, snapping quickly out of the daydream he’d been in since the call with Liz.
‘He thinks we should get over there?’
‘What? Where?’ Sean said shaking his head.
‘Prague. Wagner’s just crossed into the Czech Republic, on the road to Prague. He’s not sure that it’s the final destination, but if we get there, John can collect us and take us wherever.’
*
The short flight to Prague landed at 5 p.m. When John collected Sean and Clive at the airport, in the same blue Audi they’d followed Wagner in, he looked tired and unkempt. ‘I’ve not been able to shower yet, smart arse,’ he said, as Clive intimated that he stank.
‘They’re out at an old steel mill about half an hour away. Terry’s still there. We should pick him up on the radio when we get close. There’s a vantage point on a hill overlooking the yard and there’s a lot of activity down there,’ John said.
sThe Quiet Wart Page 7
