The small café-bar has ten tables, and all are taken by people eagerly waiting for their boarding call. He wishes he could be so excited about his trip. Germany, France and England in the space of a week, and Spain to come. He cannot understand how business travellers can put up with the monotony of airport lounges and staring at the back of another person’s seat every day. He is exhausted, but his mission is nearly complete, and then he can spend the rest of his days choosing what the future holds. For the first time in months, he feels positive about the future.
He finishes his coffee and checks the display on his phone. He has a message from Karen. She has gone on ahead, and is due to meet him later. He is due to fly to Barcelona, and then onto Madrid afterwards. It is a convoluted trip, but will help cover his tracks better. The package should be in Valencia by now, and will be driven to Cuenca for him to build before it is deposited at the location in Madrid. He will be long gone before the device is detonated.
He wipes the corners of his mouth with a paper napkin and throws it into the empty cup, before standing and heading for the toilets. He has never been a good traveller, and his stomach has been performing somersaults all morning. This is probably more due to the lack of sleep and the gallons of caffeine-based energy drinks he has consumed in the last forty-eight hours. He washes his hands, and wheels the carry-on case out of the bathroom.
He sees movement out of the corner of his eye and freezes.
Behind the café-bar there is a hidden door that has just opened, and a swarm of blue uniforms are exiting. There must be half a dozen agents at least. They gather in a circle and an older man in a suit addresses them. He is holding up a picture, though it is impossible to make out the image on the page from this distance. The circle breaks and the officers disperse like the seeds from a dandelion that has just been blown by a child.
His eyes widen as he realises they’re looking for him. But how? Why? Nobody knows he’s here. Unless…
Karen’s message: it would have confirmed the location of his phone, which in turn confirms his presence at the airport. Is it just coincidence that the agents arrived so soon after her message? Have they been waiting for confirmation? Has she betrayed him again?
He remains still, watching as the seeds flutter through the departure lounge.
Why would she give up his location? She needs him to build the final device in Spain. She cannot do it without him. It is an intricate piece of work, and requires a specialist.
Why else would they be here?
He casually heads back towards the café-bar, but as one of the officers meanders near the tables, he drastically changes direction, and moves towards the bank of monitors with flight times. He stares at the screens, but all the while his eyes are darting to the left and to the right, monitoring how close the blue uniforms are to his position. The older man in the suit has joined in the search too. He must be the one in charge. He is showing copies of the image to the passengers who cross his path.
His hairline is wet. He wipes his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket as calmly as he can. He reaches for the handle of his case, and turns to his left. If he can make it to the bathrooms before he is intercepted, he may just have a chance.
He is five metres from the entrance when he hears a deep voice calling to him.
‘Monsieur? Pardon, monsieur?’
He keeps his head low, pretending he’s not heard.
The officer has a hand on his shoulder. ‘Pardon, monsieur.’
He freezes. There is sweat dripping from every pore. He turns his head and offers an apologetic smile to the officer. ‘Bonjour.’
The agent studies his face, but reluctantly shakes his head, before scurrying away. ‘Pardon monsieur.’
He continues to watch the blue uniform dart from one male passenger to the next, convinced the officer will realise the error of his ways and return, but he does not.
He hears a shout from behind him, and suddenly the older man in the suit is charging forwards, past him, and towards the benches at the far side of the lounge. He watches them apprehend a bearded passenger wearing an ice hockey shirt, and cradling a young girl with blonde hair.
He breathes a sigh of relief, and looks at the ticket in his hand. He still isn’t happy that Karen had messaged him in the first place. Radio contact was a strict no-no.
She will have to go. As soon as he is done, he will put an end to her meddling.
THIRTY-NINE
An hour since they’d left, and with the car abandoned in short-term parking, Becky and Julia found themselves blindly searching the departure gate of Lille International. There was no sign of Durand or Étienne. Save for the four police cars blocking the dropping-off point, it wasn’t obvious there was a police presence anywhere inside the airport. It wasn’t a large terminal; not much bigger than Southampton’s own airport.
Julia collapsed on a chair near the escalators. ‘I don’t see them anywhere. What if we’re too late? What if he’s already flown off?’
‘I told you this wasn’t a good idea. I’m sure Durand will phone when he knows more.’
‘Oh great! That’s all I need right now: an ‘I told you so’. Thanks, Bex. Thanks a lot.’
‘Hey, that’s not fair, Jules. You know I’m on your side. I just meant -’
‘I don’t care what you meant. We need to split up. You go that way, and I’ll head up the other end.’ Without another word, Julia stormed off.
Becky struggled to contain her anger; she was just as worried about Noah’s safety. Realising she was having an argument with herself, she turned and headed away from the escalators. She hadn’t known what they would find at the airport, but she’d expected to see some sign of Durand’s team searching for the man in the baseball cap. Maybe he’d already gone through passport control.
Becky was looking for a staff member who might speak English, when a security door nearby burst open. Becky saw Durand march through, followed by six agents in blue dragging a cuffed man with them. Becky’s pulse quickened, as she tried to see the man’s face.
Was it him? She stepped closer.
Durand was shouting for his path to be cleared. Bustling travellers, pulling suitcases behind them, parted and allowed the group through. As Becky moved closer, she saw two more agents emerge from the security door. Holding their hands and walking between them was a young girl with fair hair.
Becky sighed with relief: Mathilda was safe. But where was Noah?
She chased after the group as they departed through the automatic doors. ‘Durand! Durand! I need to speak to you urgently.’
Durand ushered his men to secure their prisoner in the waiting cars, whilst he pulled away from the group and led Becky to one side. ‘Mademoiselle, you should not be here. I told you to return to your hotel.’
‘I don’t care about that. Have you asked him where Noah is yet?’
‘Mademoiselle, we will question him back at -’
She pushed past Durand and tried to look through the window of the police car. ‘Ask him now. Oi, you in there. Where is my Godson? What have you done with Noah?’
Durand pulled her back. ‘You cannot be here.’
‘I don’t care. We just want Noah back. Please? Just ask him. We need to know whether Noah is still…alive. This is killing us. Please, Durand? Just ask him, and we’ll leave you alone.’
Durand barked something at his men, who promptly got into three of the four cars and pulled away.
‘Wait! Where are they going? Where are you taking him?’
Durand led her away from the terminal, and away from the queue of people waiting for taxis. When they were alone, he offered her a cigarette, lighting one for himself. She initially declined, before changing her mind and allowing him to light one for her. The tar was stronger than she was used to.
She studied the frown on his face. ‘What aren’t you telling me? You were so certain that Mathilda wasn’t taken by the man who took Noah. What do you know?’
He inhaled deeply. ‘The ma
n in the car is Christian Hodgson. He arrived in France three days ago from Montreal. When the Alerte-Enlèvement was released, we asked the border authorities to look out for Hodgson.’
‘I’m confused. Why? How did you know he had taken the girl? Who is he?’
‘Hodgson is Mathilda’s uncle. He is her mother’s brother. I told you before that in my experience when a child is taken, often one of the family are involved.’
‘But why would he…I mean…does Sarah know?’
He nodded. ‘My men are questioning her at headquarters now. We believe she asked her brother to come here and to take her daughter back to Canada.’
‘But that doesn’t make any sense. She saw the man take her daughter. She described the guy from the hypermarket.’
‘She lied. She was planning to leave her husband, but she knew he would not let her take their daughter. When news of Noah’s abduction broke, she saw it as her chance to escape.’
‘I don’t buy that. If she wanted to divorce her husband, she could have just left with her daughter while he was at work. Why go to this level of pretence?’
‘You’re a lawyer in Britain. Have you heard of the Hague Convention on the Civil Aspects of International Child Abduction? A parent does not have the right to remove a child from their country of residence without the permission of the second parent. If she had taken Mathilda without her husband’s permission, he has the right to force her to return the children. If her husband believed that their daughter had been abducted or killed, then he would have no reason to follow legal proceedings.’
‘But how did you know that was what she’d planned?’
‘I have been involved in five missing child cases, and this is the third where a parent has faked the abduction. They think they will get away with it, but we are very good at our job. We always find out.’
‘What happened in the other two cases?’
‘One boy was taken by an abuser from Poland, and the other…you know all about that.’
‘So Sarah lied when she described the man she saw take her daughter?’
He nodded. ‘Oui. She used your situation for her own good. I am sorry, but this was why I told you to go back to your hotel. I fear you have had your hope taken again.’
‘I wish we’d listened. God, I’m going to have to try and explain all this to Jules. She’s going to be so upset again.’
‘I can speak to her if you would prefer?’
‘No, no, I’d better do it. Just tell me one thing, Durand: do you think you will find Noah?’
He flicked his cigarette butt into the street. ‘I promise I will never stop looking.’
Becky thanked him for his candour, before watching him walk back to his car. A hundred hours had passed since she’d last seen Noah, and every effort to find him had failed. The only lead that remained was Owen Kennedy’s. Was Julia right: were his memories just the paranoid result of PTSD? Or was there more to it than that? The only way to know for sure was to speak to him again. Becky finished her cigarette, and made her way back to the terminal. She’d made her mind up: she would drop Julia at the hotel, and then meet with Owen.
FORTY
Owen wiped the corners of his mouth with the napkin and dropped it on his plate. ‘I’m so glad you called me. After the way things finished yesterday, I wasn’t sure you would.’
Becky finished the wine in her glass. ‘I’m glad I did too. Even if just for the meal. That was delicious!’
‘The woman in my hotel recommended it. She said it was the best Italian in Calais.’
‘Well, you can tell her I gave it the thumbs up. I probably just put on half a stone. Garlic bread is a guilty pleasure.’
‘I’m glad you enjoyed it. Now, I think it’s time you came clean. Why did you really invite me to dinner?’
‘I told you why: I wanted to thank you for yesterday.’
‘Please, let’s not lie to one another. I’ve known enough betrayal in my life.’
Her cheeks reddened. Behind those eyes he was in pain. ‘Okay, the truth is, I wanted to ask you more about this man Yasin.’
‘I didn’t think you two believed my story.’
‘Jules was upset by the way you described Adie. She still misses him so much, and to hear some of the things he did before he died, when he could have been home with her…I guess it’s not what a grieving widow wants to hear. You can’t blame her.’
‘Oh, I don’t blame her. It’s not easy to hear something like that, but it doesn’t make it any less true. He was my best friend over there, and I saw how he changed, but even I don’t want to believe it.’
‘I think there’s more to it than that. When she looks at you, she doesn’t see a war hero. She sees a man who went through the same experiences as her husband, and lived to tell the tale. Don’t hate her, but seeing you walking and talking when Adie isn’t…’
‘She wishes I’d died and he’d lived. So do I. Is that why she isn’t here?’
Becky nodded. ‘I left her at the hotel. It’s been another tough day, and she needs to get a decent night’s sleep.’
‘Where does she think you are?’
‘I told her I needed a drive to clear my head. I think it’s good for us to get some time apart. We’ve been practically living out of each other’s pockets. Besides, if she knew I’d come to meet you, she’d have chastised me for coming.’
He laughed. ‘I feel like a forbidden piece of fruit. I’m at your service, what do you want to know?’
‘You mentioned that Adie had carried out other missions or tasks for Yasin, but you didn’t go into detail. That’s what I want to know. I don’t understand why Adie tried to kill this Yasin. What caused him to turn?’
‘Do you remember I said Yasin introduced himself as someone who wanted to help save his homeland? He wanted to rid the landscape of the pockets of Taliban resistance, but also wanted the UN forces gone too. He led Adie to believe that the people he was targeting were enemies of the country and served the greater purpose. I don’t know how many secret missions Adie went on, or how many of Yasin’s targets he took out, but I know it was a significant number. You didn’t see the look in Adie’s eyes when he learned the truth. It was like a switch went off in his head. Suddenly his only desire was to stop Yasin’s plans.’
‘There must be more to it than that. I know I can’t appreciate what it was like over there, but you and Adie could have scarpered at any point. You could have rocked up back at the army base and revealed what Yasin was up to. I’m sure the UN forces could have stopped the Black Shadow group. Why did Adie feel he had to personally stop Yasin?’
Owen shifted in his chair. ‘I told you why.’
‘You’re lying to me. Why?’
‘I’m not lying to you.’
‘Yes you are. You can’t even look at me. What aren’t you telling me, Owen? Please.’
He looked straight at her. ‘I…I…I don’t know who to trust anymore.’
‘You can trust me! You found us, remember? You have nothing to fear from me.’
‘I wish it was that easy.’
She rested her hand on his. ‘Sometimes it can be that easy.’
He looked away. ‘The night that Adie died…we saw something…we couldn’t just leave the camp. It would have taken hours to get back to the base, by which time Yasin and his little army would have moved on and disappeared. They had to be stopped, and we were the only ones who could do it…’
‘Please, Owen. I’m not judging you for what happened. If I’m to convince Jules, I need to know the truth.’
‘Alright, alright. You really want to know? When Adie took me to the office to show me what Yasin was planning for his country, we discovered new maps and plans. Only this time, they weren’t maps of the Middle East; they were maps of EU countries, including the UK. Yasin was planning to transport a bomb to the UK and detonate it in the name of the Islamic State. He wanted to play his enemies off against each other, and survive as the last man standing. He wanted mass war in
the Middle East, from which he would emerge as a leader and saviour. His alleged ambition to unite his country was narcissistic bullshit. He was after one thing: power. We knew we’d never make it to the army base before Yasin abandoned camp, and if he was allowed to escape, we’d never find him again.’
Becky gasped. ‘Jesus!’
‘Neither of us were prepared to let that happen. We swore to protect our country from all enemies, and he had to be stopped. Adie went to set the bomb in the office while I kept watch. We wanted to take out Yasin and his giant Head of Operations, so there would be no reprisals for our actions. We knew they met in Yasin’s office after dawn prayers, so we broke in during the night, and Adie set the device. Adie prayed at Salat al-fajr, and we expected to hear an explosion, but nothing happened. The device didn’t detonate. Something had gone wrong. We had to get back into the office to find out why it had failed, and to remove any evidence before Yasin found there had been an attempt on his life. I stood guard again, and Adie went in, but Yasin came back suddenly and caught him in there. I guess Adie didn’t think there was another way and detonated it. I barely escaped. I stole one of Yasin’s cars and headed away from the mountains, only Yasin wasn’t dead. Somehow he’d survived the explosion, and he came after me. Him and his giant chased me down, and forced my car from the road. The car rolled down the mountainside and exploded at the bottom.’
‘Oh my God! How did you -’
Owen unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off his shoulder. The pale scarring stretched from his right elbow, up his arm, and halfway across his chest. ‘I was thrown clear before the bottom, but the tank was full of petrol, and the flames quickly spread. Dehydrated, and in agony, I crawled out of the desert and was found by a farmer who took pity on me. He did his best to treat my injuries, while I lay unconscious in his bed. A week had passed when I came around, but I was in no state to go after Yasin.’
‘So you went back to the army base?’
Then He Was Gone Page 16
