“That’s okay. Get some rest and we’ll talk in the morning.”
I clicked off and put the phone down. When I turned back to Abby she had a sleepy smile on her face.
“You never stop, do you?”
“No, I like to keep moving.”
“That sounds good.”
She opened her arms to me.
PART THREE
25
Wendell Harken had agreed that Abby should join us for the briefing. I gave her a short account of the operation in Tanzania beforehand to bring her up to speed, then we went over to the CO’s office. He waved us to chairs and we sat down.
“Sorry to drag you back here, Jim.” He sighed. “This Ridout guy’s a real pain. He just won’t take good advice.”
“What’s the problem?”
“Apparently that Russian company, Mirovoi Industries, hasn’t given up. The Cuprex Board is meeting on Monday to discuss a new offer. If Ridout’s there they’ll almost certainly reject it so Vlasov’s people would obviously prefer it if he wasn’t. Unfortunately the man’s as stubborn as a mule. Max told him this wasn’t the best time to be going out of town but he said he’s not changing his arrangements for anyone. It’s only some charity do.”
“When is it?”
“Tonight – seems they always hold these things on a Saturday night. Max would really like you to be there; he’s convinced the Russians will have another go. Bagley’s booked you on a commercial flight from Raleigh-Durham. He’ll give you the details.”
“Commercial? I’ll have to go unarmed.”
“I know. Max didn’t put in a formal request, so you’ll be there in a private capacity. He has enough people and artillery; he’d just like to have you around as a consultant. Keep it low key but see if you can’t give the man some reassurance.” He looked from me to Abby. “So, how did you two get on with the drugs thing?”
“I think we made a lot of progress,” Abby replied, glancing in my direction. She seemed uncertain about how much to say. I respected her for that. I took the lead.
“I told you we saw Gerasim Vlasov in Delhi. Seems he’s not content with assassinating his brother’s business rivals. He also has a major interest in producing and peddling counterfeit drugs.”
“Are you sure?”
I nodded to Abby and she took the cue.
“Sir, we tracked one of the fake drugs to a company not far from Delhi. The CEO of that company met Vlasov at the airport and we were there to see it. I sneaked some good pictures of the two of them together. At the end they exchanged identical brief cases. That was almost certainly the moment the CEO was paid and given his next instructions.”
“You see what this means?” I said. “Our interests have converged. On the one hand we have someone responsible for thousands of deaths from drug-resistant organisms – including the loss of my team in Colombia. On the other hand we have someone who’s already made one attempt on Mark Ridout’s life and – if Max is right – is planning another this weekend. And they’re one and the same person.”
“Quite a coincidence,” Harken said.
“Not really. These people are into so many rackets – legitimate and otherwise – it would almost be a surprise if they didn’t have fingers in both pies.”
For a moment Harken was silent, chewing the inside of his cheek.
“I don’t want to rain on your parade,” he said eventually, “but what you have wouldn’t stand up in a court of law.”
“I know, but we haven’t finished yet. The flight plans will help. Did you contact Bob?”
“Yes, he’ll look after it. He’s done it before so he knows the procedure. He says these flight plans can come out looking like a load of gibberish but he’ll ask them to extract departure points, destinations, dates and times, and number of people on board. I assume that’ll be enough.”
“Perfect. Did he say how long?”
“Not too long. May even be here today.”
“Great. Thanks for that.” I got to my feet and Abby did the same. “Well, let’s see what we can manage at Atlanta.”
“Thanks, Jim, Abby.”
*
Abby and I walked back towards the accommodation blocks. We stopped where the path divided.
“Do you want me to come with you to Atlanta?” she asked.
I thought about it. I longed for more nights like the one we’d had in the hotel in Delhi but the base was far too closed a community to be able to carry on a relationship undetected. Taking her on the trip would provide the perfect solution. On the other hand I needed to maintain focus. From what I’d seen in Delhi, Abby wasn’t the kind of girl who’d be content to merge with the scenery. She could expose herself to danger and I’d be distracted, worrying about her. In any case, she could put her time to better use.
“I’d love you to come with, but it’d be more productive if you stayed here, you know. Right now the printout Dayo gave us is just a list of names. Maybe you can do some digging on those factories, find out where they’re located, and if they’re independent or part of a larger group. Then you’ll be in a better position to deal with whatever the FAA comes up with. If we have a list of airports visited by Vlasov you can see whether the suspect factories are close by. It would strengthen the case no end.”
“Okay, I can do that. How long will you be gone?”
“A few days, I suppose.”
She nodded. “Jim…”
“Yes?”
“You will take care, won’t you?”
If we hadn’t been standing right out in the open I’d have kissed her then and there. As it was, the best I could manage was a smile.
“Don’t worry. I will.”
*
A well-built young man was standing in the arrivals hall at Atlanta with a card bearing the words “COLONEL SLATER”. I remembered the face: he’d been on Max’s team at the safari lodge. We shook hands.
“Sean Hardy. Thanks for coming, Colonel. Max had to stay with the other guys but he’ll come out when we get to the hotel.”
I glanced at my watch. It was nine o’clock. Things would be in full swing by now.
He pointed to my overnighter. “Take that for you?”
“I’ve got it.”
I followed him to his car and we drove to the hotel, the new Four Seasons on Fourteenth Street. On the way we chatted a little about the Tanzania business. When he turned into the parking lot I used my phone to contact Max and he was already at the reception desk as we walked in. He shook my hand warmly, squeezing my forearm with his other hand.
“Thanks a million for coming, Jim. Sean, you better take my place. I’ll be back in a short while.”
“Sure. So long, Colonel.”
I raised a hand. “Thanks for the ride, Sean.”
We picked up the proximity key at reception and Max accompanied me to my room.
“Here we are, 304. We’re all on this floor. All except Ridout, that is.”
He opened the door for me. I went in and he followed.
It was a standard room, very comfortably furnished. Apart from the double bed and built-in wardrobe there was a minibar, a table by the window, and two armchairs. I slung my overnight bag on the bed, strolled over to the window and depolarised the electroglass. This revealed a scintillating view of the side of another building. I repolarised it.
“Where’s Ridout, then?” I asked.
He pointed upwards. “1901. It’s a luxury suite on the nineteenth.”
“Long way away from his bodyguard.”
“Man likes his privacy – and he doesn’t believe in spending more than he has to on us.”
I grimaced. I was used to the idea of officers sharing the same conditions as the ORs. Even if it hadn’t been part of my army training it wouldn’t have occurred to me to behave in any other way. Ridout clearly thought differently.
“In that case how does he feel about paying for me?”
“I’d just as soon he didn’t know. I left Clive out of our party and gave yo
u his room.”
I nodded. Behind a desk was a wall screen, currently idling through rural scenes. It was irritating so as I crossed the room I said “Off” and it blanked. I removed my tunic and hung it in the wardrobe.
“What’s happening downstairs right now?”
“They’re at dinner. There are maybe a hundred ticket-holders in there. We’re just making sure they aren’t joined by any unwelcome guests. Fat Russians, in particular.”
I laughed. “You’re referring, of course, to Gerasim Vlasov. The man who died with all his friends in that burned-out vehicle.”
“Stage-managed. You and I both thought so.”
“And we were on the goddamn button.”
“Vlasov’s alive?”
I unzipped my overnight bag . “He’s alive all right. I saw him in Delhi’s international airport two days ago.”
“No shit! Well, we best keep on our toes. I have a nasty feeling this is crunch time. The Cuprex Board meets Monday afternoon and you can bet the Russians would love it if Ridout somehow couldn’t be there. You were a rock on that Tanzanian business, Jim. I feel a lot better having you with us now.”
I started to unpack my stuff, spreading it on the bed. “What do you want me to do?”
He perched on the edge of an armchair, hands alternately opening and clasping in front of him.
“Look, we tried to cover all the bases but maybe we missed something. If you could just keep an eye on things, try and plug gaps. You don’t have to ask: if you think something’s worth doing, do it. We’ll cover any expenses from the security budget.”
“All right. Where are your guys at the moment?”
“There’s one in the foyer keeping an eye on new hotel arrivals and staying within easy reach. I have two more at the entrance to the functions suite, just downstairs from the foyer – that’s where this charity do’s being held. No one gets in there without an invitation.”
“How easy is it to come by one of these invitations?”
He shook his head. “Not easy. The guests are company directors, head honchos, all stuff like that, handpicked. The organisers check them off on a list at the entrance. My guys are standing close by.”
“I take it they’re carrying.”
“Oh sure. I had four of them drive down a couple of days ago to suss things out. They took the sidearms with them.”
I pushed open the door to the en suite bathroom and went in to set out a few toiletries. It gave me a few moments to think. I called out to Max:
“Does the functions suite have emergency exits? Doesn’t take much to make an exit an entrance.”
“Two exits. I got people on both.”
I came back into the room. “Okay, so only legitimate guests can get access to the functions suite. What about the people already inside? Staff – waiters and waitresses, in particular. Any recent appointments?”
“Checked that. All the staff have been employed here for months – years, some of them.”
“Right. I guess that just leaves Ridout’s suite, up there on the nineteenth.”
“Been over it thoroughly. No bugs, no booby traps.”
I sat on the bed, frowning and scratching the back of my neck.
“Max, sounds like you’ve got this pretty well covered. What about tomorrow? When are you leaving?”
“In the morning. We all check out at nine-thirty. Should be plenty of time. Flight’s at eleven.”
“Scheduled or private?”
“Scheduled. I’ll ride first class with Ridout. He wasn’t happy about it but I said he should have someone he could trust in the seat next to him. Even he could see that made sense. The rest are in economy.”
“So you’ll get back in plenty of time for the Board meeting on Monday.”
“Yeah. Not that it’d be Ridout’s first choice. He loves to blow in at the last moment. Impresses on people what a busy guy he is. Drives everyone mad, especially us. Timing’s important. Security people like to keep a good grip on it.” He stood up. “Listen, I’d better get back.”
“Okay. I won’t come down with you. You’ve got it in hand and I need to catch up on some sleep. My phone’s on. If anything crops up, give me a buzz.”
“Will do. Thanks. Sleep well.”
The door shut behind him.
I found a miniature of a reasonable malt whisky and a bottle of mineral water in the minibar, made up my drink, and collapsed into one of the armchairs. Keller’s anxiety was probably justified but it wouldn’t be easy for the Russians to move on Ridout in a crowded hotel at an invitation-only function. I was more concerned about what was going to happen the following day. Airline security was pretty tight. The weak point was in between, when they were on their way to the airport. A hotel limo wouldn’t offer much protection from a drive-by or an RPG launched from the roadside.
If I had a car and a nice heavy sidearm I could ride behind the limo. At least that way I could offer some protection. Unless we hit trouble Ridout wouldn’t even need to know I was there. It seemed like a reasonable plan, only thanks to Harken I’d come unarmed. I’d have to do something about that.
I drained the glass, set it down, and stretched. I’d be fresher in the morning.
*
I woke at six-forty-five, had a quick shave and shower, and dressed. For breakfast I took an orange juice from the minibar and set it on the desk so I could sip it while I was using the voice-operated screen to locate a gun shop. I found a Wilson’s listed; it was a major chain and they’d carry a good stock. I noted down the address. Before I left the room I packed my overnighter because I’d be leaving with the others in a few hours. By seven-thirty I was downstairs whistling up a taxi.
An hour later the guy in the shop was parcelling up my purchases. I’d chosen carefully. I could be engaging in a crowded place, so I needed a round that would dump all its energy in the target, not pass through or ricochet and hit a bystander. I hadn’t asked Max what his boys were using, but I selected a Steyr M80 semiauto and a carton of 9 x 19 frangible slugs. The frame was plastoceramic and the rounds were sealed copolymer, so if I didn’t need it Max could add it to his arsenal; you could always find a use for a weapon that was hard to pick up with metal detectors or explosive sniffers. Oddly enough it was the first time I’d ever purchased a firearm in a gun shop – they’d always been supplied to me in one way or another – but after I showed my Special Forces I.D. there was no problem.
I paid and picked up the package. “Say, you know a car rental place around here, walking distance?”
“I sure do. Spiro’s Car Rental. Take you ten, maybe fifteen minutes.”
He came out on the pavement to give me directions. I checked my watch as I set off. I could get there, rent a car, and still be back at the hotel by nine-thirty.
Spiro’s turned out to be not much more than a hut on a parking lot but the cars looked clean and up-to-date. I was just going into the office, thinking about what to rent, when my phone vibrated.
“Jim?”
“Yes, Max.”
“I need you here, buddy.”
I picked up a note of quiet desperation in his voice. “Max, you got a problem?”
“Yeah, a big one.” He sighed. “Mark Ridout’s dead.”
26
I made it back to the hotel in less than half an hour and ran inside. Max wasn’t around. When I phoned him it turned out he’d called in the FBI and he was still with them. I went to my room and waited for him there.
It was eleven o’clock before he came by. We rode the elevator to a business suite on the eighteenth floor which the hotel manager had set aside for the investigation. No doubt it was an attempt to keep us out of the way of his other guests, although the investigating team weren’t making any use of it at the moment. A long conference table and chairs occupied the centre of the empty room. In one corner there was an autodispenser loaded with soft drinks and beer. On a desk nearby were several touchscreens and a printer. Max went to the corner and drew a couple of cold beers,
which he brought over to the long table. He pushed one in my direction and sat down heavily. I could feel for him.
“What happened?”
He shook his head. “We’re supposed to check out at nine-thirty, right? Normally Ridout’s a real early riser but he doesn’t show for breakfast and it’s eight-thirty already. I’m starting to get antsy, but the man hates to be bothered and the others tell me not to worry. I give it another twenty minutes, then I phone his room. No answer. That’s it. I put the arm on the manager and he lets me into the suite. Ridout’s lying on the bed, bollock-naked. One look, you can see he’s dead. The sheets are in a tangle, like he’s kicked them down, but no blood, no marks, no signs of a struggle. The manager is standing in the doorway with his lower jaw somewhere near his navel. I turn him around and we get out of there fast. Not to contaminate the scene, you know.”
He was rotating his beer glass this way and that between his fingertips. The condensation made a series of intersecting circles on the table.
“Go on.”
“I put in the calls myself. I wanted to make sure the Bureau got here first. The Atlanta Police Department is mad as all hell but it’s put me in real good with the local Feds. They’re up there now. Actually I worked with one of them before, guy called Ralph Fineman. He’s keeping me posted.”
“You pick anything up so far?”
“Well, my boys – sorry, I still think of Feds as my boys – started like usual, sending in the machine that sniffs the volatiles – you know, sweat, perfume, dope, that kind of thing. They wired the results to central lab for analysis but I can tell you something right now: they’re going to find perfume. It doesn’t take a machine to tell me that. I was only in that room for ten seconds but I picked it up.”
“Okay, so he had a girl in his suite. Was he attractive to women?”
“Does dog shit attract flies? Look, he wasn’t a bad-looking guy, he was single, vigorous – so far as I know – and he was rich and powerful. He had his pick.”
I shrugged. “Doesn’t mean she killed him.”
“You haven’t heard about the champagne yet.”
Counterfeit (The Jim Slater series Book 2) Page 17
