Assassin Flame

by Tomson Cobb

  ‘Who is she?’ At times like this, Jago didn’t waste time with unnecessary words. Neither did Nik.

  ‘An Argentinian called Belette Dias. Belette means “beautiful” there. Not her family name. Father was Pedro Dias, the son of a Nazi SS major called Joseph Globnic. He managed to escape there via the Odessa network in 1944. Grandad Joseph ran a death camp in Poland so he changed his name when he arrived at Buenos Aires. He met a local girl and that’s how little Pedro arrived.’

  ‘Does this information help us in any way?’ Jago asked.

  ‘Not necessarily, although you’ll be interested to know that Globnic brought his baby boy up in true Nazi tradition. He taught him how to kill. The son became an assassin for the generals when they took over there after Peron, then he went freelance. He’s been implicated in many of the unsolved murders in Latin America. Places like Chile, Paraguay and Venezuela. Didn’t like to leave the continent though. Papers say he was killed seven years ago in a shootout with police special forces in Colombia. They’d tracked him down when he was on an assignment for one of the big drug cartels.’

  ‘So she joined the family business?’

  ‘Quite so. The father trained her well.’

  ‘Do we know any more about her than this?’

  ‘Not yet. Give us time. We’ve just found this information so we’ll need time to work on it. I’ll be able to give you her inside leg measurement soon though.’

  ‘I like that confidence, Nik. That’s the spirit. Work away. Seriously though, you might want to put together a list of names she’s used in her jobs. Where she used them as well.’

  ‘Why, Jags?’

  ‘Oh, just an idea of mine. Fiction writers like to adopt names or places they find in various places. If we can find what those sources are, we might find out a little more about Ms Polpo.’

  ‘Good idea. I’ll work on it. Call you soon when we get more, Jago.’

  After he’d finished the call, Jago lay down on the bed with heavy eyes. A sudden wave of helplessness had overcome his previous confidence, which had been bolstered by the workout. Tennyson’s poem came back to him: ‘My good blade carves the casques of men, my tough lance thrusteth sure, my strength is as the strength of ten, because my heart is pure.’

  Sir Galahad had searched for the Holy Grail, with eventual success after many setbacks. Was that an analogy for him? Was Nik closer to the truth than he knew? One problem, though, was that chivalrous wasn’t a word that he would use to describe himself. If it was, Frank would be the reconstituted Arthur, he himself could play the heroic knight, with Belette as Morgan le Fay. He remembered that she had something of a split personality, with potential for good or evil, who became an apprentice of Merlin and a vindictive adversary of the Knights of the Round Table. She was also sexually voracious in a predatory way, it was said. It all fitted the Octopus persona.

  The question remained: who was Merlin?

  Chapter 17

  The reception area of Kruger’s Washington headquarters was designed to be voter friendly. Not too ostentatious, but not too downmarket either, so it would appeal to both sides of the social divide.

  Shapiro had been correct in his theory. Petra Carmichael had returned his call within half an hour. Joe had picked him up from the apartment and given him some more background on Kruger’s campaign on their way over. The sudden rise to riches, together with the influence it gave him, looked like the exact same formula that the Organisation had used when they’d cultivated Chomsky.

  ‘Hi. You must be Jago?’

  She was tall, her long dark hair tied into a bun, with broad shoulders and a deeper than expected voice. Jago realised that Wade’s appeal to all sections of the voters included the LGBT community. Shapiro’s warning now became clearer.

  ‘That’s me. And you must be Ms Carmichael,’ he said, just before his fingers were crushed in a deliberate show of strength. He tried not to flinch.

  ‘That’s me. How nice of you to contact us, Mr Hale. I spoke to Wade when my PA told me you’d like to meet him. He was delighted to agree. Let’s go up. Would you like some refreshments?’ She waved him into the empty elevator.

  ‘Coffee would be good, Miss Carmichael.’

  ‘Please, call me Petra, Mr Hale. I hate formality.’

  On this one occasion Jago had to disagree. He decided formality was fine by him, so he wasn’t inclined to respond to the invitation.

  They disembarked on the fifteenth floor. Petra led the way down a long hall with photos of the prospective commander-in-chief that adorned the walls alongside numerous well known personalities. The thick pile carpet was a subtle shade of gold, which Jago presumed would be the new party colours as it was repeated on the name plaques attached to each door. She showed him into a large office which featured similar colours on both floor and wall, then closed the door behind her.

  The man that sat behind the large expanse of glass and metal sounded busy. He was medium height but big, overweight even, with a tanned bald head, wide at the shoulders, wider at the waist – probably the result of too many high-calorie meals, thought Jago as he glanced around the room. He wore a large garish Hawaiian shirt of multiple colours with a prominent Gucci logo and was, it seemed, deep in discussion with another minion. Coincidental, thought Jago, that the possible next leader of the free world was in a conversation about casting a movie at the moment he had walked into his office.

  ‘Sure, David. If you think De Niro is the right man, sign him up. What about Scarlett. Has she agreed terms yet?’ There was a pregnant pause while Kruger, with a professional smile, waved Jago to one of four leather chairs around a lower glass table in front of the desk. ‘Good. So we start the shoot in December. Is that right?’

  Another dramatic pause as Kruger looked Jago over. The impression he wanted to create was amiable, yet Jago could see his eyes were cold. He stared at his visitor as if his attention was on the phony phone call, but Jago knew it was all for effect. The guy wanted a few minutes to watch him. Maybe to make a decision before they spoke? He didn’t know what made the man tick yet, although he realised this was a very different individual to Chomsky. Jago was on his guard.

  ‘Great, David. Go ahead then. Let me know when it’s all put to bed.’ As he replaced the handset, Kruger pushed himself up from the chair in one easy loose movement before he pushed out a fist. ‘Hi Jago. Welcome to Kruger Projects.’

  A knock on the door paused any further conversation. ‘Come,’ Kruger called out.

  A young woman entered with a tray, three cups and a large jug of coffee. She placed them on the low side table. As she left the room, Carmichael returned with a notepad, put it down on the table then started to pour coffee into the china cups for them all, ready to act as a good press secretary always does, by looking out for her boss. They all took their seats.

  ‘I’ve been reading up on you since you called, Jago,’ Kruger said. ‘You sure live one hell of a life, if I may say so. What’s your interest in us though? If you’re on the hunt for scandal you won’t find any here. I’m just a small-time lawyer with a new vision for this country.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s modesty on your part Mr Kruger, so thanks for the opportunity to meet you at this short notice. There’s a lot of interest in your campaign back in England and lots of newspapers there would like to hear your own take on that vision. I’d hoped you’d let me be the one to tell that story.’

  ‘You have a fine direct way of putting a proposal, Jago. I like that. I like you as well, now I’ve met you. What do you think Petra? Do we give this guy the exclusive he wants?’

  ‘I’d like to hear more from our visitor first before I give my view. What precisely do you have in mind, Mr Hale?’

  She also had the same cold stare, though without the affected smile, Jago noticed. Instead, a look of quiet competence with a hint of menace was projected from the wide-featured assistant as she crossed her legs in front of Jago’s eyes. He understood now Kruger’s intention to appeal to all sections
of society in order to cross previously unbridgeable boundaries.

  ‘I’d like to do a big feature on Mr Kruger here. Nobody on our side of the Atlantic knows much about him, but at the same time there’s a lot of interest in his message across all sections of society over there.’

  ‘I like the way you put that, Jago. Listen, I have a better idea. Why don’t you shadow me for a little while? I’ve got a few rallies organised across the country this week. You could come with me. Hell, there’s enough room on my jet for you as well. What do you say?’

  The invitation from a prospective candidate was as attractive as it was unexpected. Jago decided not to look this gift horse in the mouth.

  ‘That’s very kind of you Mr Kruger. I’d love that. Could I call you Wade while we’re out of the public eye? Saves the formality, don’t you agree?’ Jago deliberately didn’t look at Petra but he could see from the corner of his eye that she’d noticed his careful choice of words and wasn’t impressed.

  ‘Sure. Look Jago, I have lots of business to do, so rather than starting all this right now here, why don’t we wait till we’re in the air. My flight to Sacramento tomorrow leaves at seven. We’ll have plenty of time to talk on the flight. If you give Petra your address, she’ll pick you up and bring you to Reagan National.’

  Jago could see that the assistant wasn’t pleased about the plan. Neither was he. He preferred to keep his stayover location to himself.

  ‘That’s okay, Wade. I’m sure Petra has more important jobs to do tomorrow. Just tell me where to go. I’ll get there myself.’

  ‘Okay, Jago. That’s fine by me. Petra, let Jago know where to meet us. Arrange clearance for him so he doesn’t get delayed by security there. You know who to speak to. Jago, it was good to meet you. I look forward to our talk tomorrow, but now I have to throw you out. I have other people to meet.’

  Jago found Joe’s car tucked out of sight behind a large Winnebago in the supermarket parking lot around the corner from Kruger’s office. Joe was peering into the front window.

  ‘Like one?’ asked Jago.

  ‘I sure would. I’d just throw some beers and fishing gear into it and make my way up to Canada. Unfortunately it’s outside my paygrade,’ Joe said. ‘How’d it go with our friend?’

  ‘Too well. I’m to be the special guest of the possible next president on his meet-and-greet campaign across various states this week.’

  ‘What? You’re kidding me.’

  ‘I don’t kid anyone, Joe. The guy was prepared, although his lady friend wasn’t. She looked as if he’d gone mad. I don’t think she knew what he was about to say. It all happened too fast. She was ready for a long interview, with her ready to butt in whenever the boss was about to put his foot in it. Now she has to put up with me for a week so she wasn’t happy with that.’

  ‘Well, if she’s not part of whatever he’s involved in, maybe she’s just a lucky hack with her nose put out, as you say. I know she was well respected in her last two jobs. How will you play it?’

  ‘I’m not sure. First I need to speak to Tony. I have lots to tell him. Can we get hold of him now?’

  ‘Sure. He said he’d be available if you needed to. I’ll call him to check where.’

  Chapter 18

  The pretty young stewardess with the tight dress in the same company livery that Jago had noticed in Kruger’s office served him three warm croissants with a large mug of freshly brewed coffee. They were delivered on a silver plate with the legend WK inscribed in a prominent size around the edge. Jago decided he could get used to travel like this. He put down the notepad and pen that he’d used for the last two hours. There were another four to go, so he could afford a break.

  They had been fencing with each other until now. The responses to his questions had been fended off with the skill of an experienced management consultant or PR guru. Jago had to admit Kruger was a smooth, believable operator. It sounded as if he would be well suited to the ruthless world of US politics. If Jago didn’t know better, he could pass for the genuine article.

  ‘What made you want to go into politics, Wade? You’ve been able to build up a profitable business empire, so why do you want get involved in all the chicanery of Washington?’

  ‘I like that word. Petra, make a note so I can use it in my next speech. Jago, Truman Capote said life is a moderately good play with a badly written third act. You should appreciate that as an accomplished writer yourself.’

  ‘Hah. Very true. So how does that square with your plans?’

  ‘I grew up with very little. My parents were poor. They worked hard in Germany to send me to law school here in the States. I promised them I’d first become successful myself, then make life better for others. I’ve been lucky in the first part of that plan, now comes the last, so as we all get older fast I don’t want to waste that precious time. I want to give something back to my adopted country. A new politics for all.’ Kruger sat back in his seat to sip his coffee, satisfied with his brief genuflection to credibility. Jago knew without the need to check that it would be part of a standard presentation to his adoring hordes, which had increased substantially in recent months according to his research.

  Jago also thought about applause, then dismissed the idea. He’d already decided that the guy was a much bigger threat to democracy than even Shapiro had thought, but at the same time he sounded very plausible.

  ‘It sounds… attractive, Wade,’ Jago offered, his lack of enthusiasm deliberate.

  ‘Attractive? Hell Jago, we’re going to shake up this country more than anyone’s done in the last three hundred years. Don’t you think that’s worth it?’

  ‘I’m not here to have an opinion. I just tell the story to others.’

  ‘Well said. I get that. We have great plans for this country, Jago. The polls show we’ve made big progress against the two established parties. We’ve started our project well to build a base, so next year we’ll surprise the rest of the world in the presidential election.’

  Petra started to add her own two cents to her boss’s speech but Jago ignored the intervention. He preferred to keep his attention on the man with the big permanent smile that was opposite him, his satisfaction obvious in the pose as his arm straddled the back of the empty white leather seat alongside his own.

  ‘It does sound like you’ve shaken things up Wade, I give you that. Another question though. You already have an administration ready from what you’ve told me today. How will you pay for it?’

  No point in procrastination. Now was the time to press the guy’s buttons with a little provocation to see what came back from him. Jago picked up his notebook once again. He’d hoped for a reaction, but apart from a frown, Wade didn’t play ball. He just returned to the set smile.

  ‘That’s a fair question, Jago. I guess many like you will want to unearth any stone they think I might have hidden some crap under. It’s your job, I understand that. I’ll have to disappoint you though. My team is financed mostly by myself, plus a lot of individual supporters who have donated small amounts to the campaign.’

  ‘As your main point of difference to the main two parties is based on honesty, are you about to put all the details into the public domain? After all, your slogan is Trust with Honour isn’t it?’ Jago said.

  ‘Sure is. I can assure you that all our sources of finance are above reproach. We’ve already satisfied the FEC on that and we’ll publish the full list of supporters before the Primary.’

  The words had been well prepared, the explanation credible. They were also scripted, Jago knew. He wondered whether there might be any possibility that the guy was indeed who he claimed to be. He looked down at his notebook as if he wanted to check his notes.

  ‘I read you started your empire after a bequest from a relative. Is that correct?’

  ‘Empire? I don’t think that’s an appropriate description, Jago. It’s true, however, that I was able to start my first business because of the generosity of my father’s sister.’

  �
�A strange way of describing your aunt, isn’t it?’

  ‘Well, I never met her. She grew up in Russia, never married. Built a business there. Dealt in diamonds after the USSR collapsed, then started trading commodities. Made a fortune then retired to Switzerland. She was one sharp cookie, my father used to tell me.’

  ‘You have a place there don’t you? Switzerland, I mean?’ Jago said.

  ‘Yep. Geneva. It was her place. She left it to me in her will as well as the money when she died.’

  ‘I read she wasn’t that old.’

  ‘No. She was still only in her sixties. Heart problems, I was told.’

  ‘How convenient. You struck lucky, Wade.’

  ‘Sure did. Just like you, Jago. You inherited wealth as well didn’t you?’

  ‘Touché. I see you’ve done your own homework.’ Jago looked at Carmichael, who stared back unhappily.

  ‘We like to know who we deal with. I’m sure you can understand that. I know quite a lot about you in fact. How is Natsuko? That’s your lady friend’s name, isn’t it?’

  Any doubts about Tony Shapiro’s analysis of the guy would have disappeared in a second with the implied threat, if he’d still had any. Those few words had convinced Jago that Kruger was part of the organisation called Chetwynd.

  ‘She’s was a friend of my wife. Her father’s business was a distributor for my father-in-law’s company. I’d never met them before my trip to Japan. Of course, you know that already don’t you?’

  ‘I do. I’m sorry, Jago. I’m not in the business of intimidation. I just have to take care who I speak to. Not all journalists are as honest as you, so we like to take time to get to know their history. So we both have a little skin in the game… know what I mean?’ Kruger added, with a quick glance at his assistant.

  ‘I know exactly what you mean. That strategy works for me as well when I work on a story. It leads me now to my next question. Where did you go when you disappeared from your law firm for a year?’ Tony had given him the information in the car on the way to Reagan airport.