Su-ming spoke to Tarlanov in Russian, listened to his answer, and then replied. ‘It’s not dangerous.’ Cramer picked it up gingerly. It weighed several pounds. ‘But he says be careful not to drop it,’ Su-ming added.
Cramer turned the object around in his hands. It was smooth with no rivets or screws, and the brass fitting appeared to be screwed into the red metal part. It reminded him of a Christmas tree light only much, much bigger. ‘Where does it come from?’ Cramer asked. It wasn’t a shell, he realised. It was a flask. A metal flask.
When Su-ming didn’t translate, Cramer turned and looked at her. She was glaring at him, her arms folded across her chest. ‘That’s not what we’re supposed to do,’ she said.
‘Keep smiling, kid,’ said Cramer. ‘And do as you’re told.’
The Russian looked at Su-ming expectantly. She forced a smile and spoke to him in Russian. His reply was a single word. ‘Ekaterinburg,’ said Su-ming. ‘It’s a city in the Urals, about 600 kilometres to the east of Moscow.’
Cramer nodded. Tarlanov spoke again and Su-ming listened intently. ‘But it was manufactured in Krasnoyarsk-26, that’s a military city in Zhelenogorsk,’ she translated.
Cramer could get no information from the writing on the flask so he put it back in its cut-out in the case. He really wanted to ask the Russian what was inside the flask, but that was out of the question: Vander Mayer would obviously know what the Russian was bringing him. ‘How much does it cost?’ he asked.
Su-ming translated and the Russian replied with a careless shrug. ‘It depends on how much you want,’ she said. ‘The base price is four hundred thousand dollars for a kilogram.’
The Russian closed the case. ‘Ask him how much he can get hold of,’ Cramer asked.
Su-ming spoke to Tarlanov in Russian. He nodded, then turned and headed towards the door. Cramer realised that Su-ming had told him the meeting was over. She dashed ahead of the Russian and opened the door, ushering him out before Cramer could protest.
As soon as the Russian stepped out of the inner office, Su-ming closed the door and stood with her back to it, her eyes flashing. ‘You weren’t supposed to ask him anything,’ she said. ‘Mr Vander Mayer said you were only to take delivery of the consignment. You didn’t do as you were told.’
‘He’s your boss, not mine.’
‘You could have ruined everything.’
Cramer shrugged dismissively. ‘That’s not my problem.’ He pointed at the case. ‘Now, what the hell is that? What’s so important that it’s made in a Russian military city and it costs four hundred thousand dollars a kilogram?’
‘It doesn’t concern you.’
‘You’re wrong, Su-ming. You’re dead wrong. I’m looking after whatever it is that’s in that case, it’s my responsibility, and if it’s some sort of germ warfare weapon then I have a right to know.’
‘It’s not germ warfare,’ she said, pouting like a little girl who wasn’t getting her own way.
‘So you say. What if I drop it, what if the car gets involved in an accident? Suppose whatever it is in the flask escapes? We could all die.’
Su-ming shook her head. ‘It’s safe.’
‘How do you know?’
She waved the typed sheets in front of his face. ‘Because it says so, here, that’s how I know. Until it’s activated, it’s virtually inert.’
‘Activated? What the hell do you mean, activated? What is it, Su-ming?’
She tapped the papers against the palm of her hand as she looked at him. ‘Red mercury,’ she said. ‘It’s only a sample for Mr Vander Mayer to test.’
‘Red mercury?’ Cramer repeated. ‘What is it, some sort of explosive?’
‘I shouldn’t even have told you that much,’ she said.
Cramer walked over to her. She looked so small when he stood next to her. She barely came up to his shoulder and she had to tilt her head back to keep looking into his eyes. ‘What’s it used for?’ he pressed.
She frowned. ‘Fuses, mainly.’
‘For bombs?’
She nodded. ‘It’s got civil applications, too, though. Mining companies can use it to help extract gold from ore.’
Cramer kept looking at her. He was sure she wasn’t telling him everything.
Marie looked at her wristwatch. ‘Do you think I should put more money in the meter?’ she asked.
Lynch stretched his arms out in front of him and opened and closed his hands. He sighed. ‘Aye, I suppose so.’ He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he stared across the crowded street at the block containing Vander Mayer’s office. ‘Come out, come out, wherever you are,’ he whispered.
Marie got out, fed the meter, and climbed back into the Rover. ‘Of course, Cramer might not be in there,’ she said.
‘He’s in there,’ said Lynch. ‘I know he’s in there.’
‘What about something to eat? A sandwich or something?’
Lynch shook his head. He rubbed the back of his neck. His whole body seemed to be aching. It felt as if he’d been sitting in the car for months. ‘Maybe a coffee,’ he said.
‘Tired?’
‘Knackered.’
‘It’s just after five, the offices should start emptying soon. I’ll get you a coffee before the rush starts.’
She was reaching for the door handle when Lynch sat bolt upright. ‘Wait,’ he said.
Marie’s hand jerked away from the handle as if she’d received an electric shock. ‘What?’
‘Look.’ Lynch nodded at the office block. A Mercedes had pulled up and the driver, a large man in a dark blue suit and a peaked cap, was getting out.
‘That’s the same car they had in Wales,’ said Marie.
‘Same type. Different registration number. But that’s the driver all right.’ He started the engine. ‘Keep the map out. Rush hour isn’t the best time to be tailing someone in London.’
Lynch pulled away from the kerb and indicated that he wanted to turn right. He had to make sure he didn’t get stuck in the side road when the Mercedes drove off. A middle-aged woman in a battered MGB flashed her headlights and Lynch nudged the Rover into the traffic. The only place he could find to park was on a double yellow line but he didn’t think he’d have to wait long so he pulled in and watched the Mercedes in his driving mirror. Marie twisted around in her seat to watch the building itself.
‘Oh shit,’ said Lynch under his breath. A black traffic warden was walking towards them, notebook in hand. He was about fifty feet away.
‘The driver’s gone inside,’ said Marie.
Lynch drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. The traffic warden was heading purposefully towards the Rover. Marie opened the door. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’ll talk to him,’ she said. She got out of the car and walked towards the traffic warden, smiling and waving the street directory. She said something to the man and showed him the map. Smart girl, thought Lynch, but he doubted whether the ruse would buy them more than a minute or two. The traffic warden took the map from Marie and began talking to her and pointing down the road.
Lynch turned to look through the back window of the Rover. The door to the block opened but it was a young woman who came out. ‘Come on, come on,’ Lynch muttered. He felt exposed and vulnerable, sitting on the double yellow lines with a traffic warden only yards away. There were no other parking spaces nearby and if they had to drive off they’d have to double back, and that could take ages in the heavy traffic. The door to the office block opened again and the driver came out. He stood at the entrance, looking left and right, and then held it open. Another big man came out wearing a dark grey suit, and Lynch recognised him immediately: it was the man he’d seen walking with Cramer in the grounds of the school in Wales.
Marie was still talking to the traffic warden. Lynch didn’t want to risk sounding his horn, even though the street was bustling with vehicles and pedestrians. He flashed his headlights a couple of times and she waved at him before spotting the two men. Marie took the
map from the traffic warden, said something to him and then walked quickly back to the Rover. Lynch kept his eyes glued to the driving mirror. A third man came out. Lynch’s eyes narrowed. It was Cramer. He was carrying an aluminium briefcase.
Marie got into the Rover and closed the door. The traffic warden was still walking towards them. Marie wound down her window and gave him a wide smile. ‘Thanks for your help,’ she called, waving the map at him. He walked by, but looked over his shoulder. ‘You’re going to have to go,’ Marie whispered. ‘He’s watching us.’
‘Pretend to give me directions,’ Lynch said. Marie leaned over and made a show of holding the map in front of him as he kept an eye on the rear-view mirror. The three men were getting into the Mercedes. The two large men moved efficiently, and as he watched Lynch realised how cleverly they were shielding Cramer. The young Oriental girl came out of the office block and opened the rear door of the Mercedes herself. Marie continued to point at the map and nod her head. Lynch nodded as if agreeing with her. In the mirror he saw the traffic warden walking away. ‘Okay, he’s going,’ said Lynch.
The Mercedes drove away from the kerb. As it drew level with the Rover, Lynch turned his head away. He let a couple of cars go by and then edged the Rover into the traffic. Marie had the map open on her lap and she kept looking at it as Lynch followed the Mercedes. The traffic was moving slowly and while Lynch wasn’t worried about the Mercedes getting away, he wanted to stay fairly close in case he got held up by traffic lights.
A taxi forced itself in front of Lynch and he cursed. ‘He’s turning left,’ said Marie.
Lynch indicated and followed the Mercedes down the side road. The Mercedes made another two turns in quick succession. For a brief moment Lynch wondered if the driver had spotted them, but then the Mercedes drove straight on for almost half a mile. Lynch allowed two vehicles to overtake but kept reasonably close.
‘Fulham,’ said Marie. ‘They’re heading for Fulham. They could be crossing the river.’
‘If they’re driving back to Wales I’ll be really pissed off,’ said Lynch through clenched teeth.
‘No, they’re going north-east. If they were going to Wales they’d be heading west to the M4.’
They drove by antique shops full of gilded furniture and extravagant light fittings, then past a football stadium. ‘Chelsea,’ said Marie. ‘It’s where Chelsea play.’
The traffic had thinned out and Lynch hung back, giving the Mercedes plenty of space. There was little chance of losing it; the driver was sticking religiously to the speed limit.
‘I think we’ve got a tail,’ said Martin, glancing in his rear-view mirror.
Su-ming began to turn around but Cramer reached over and took her hand. ‘Don’t look around,’ he said. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked Martin.
‘I noticed it about five minutes ago, but this is the best way to Chelsea Harbour so it might be coincidence. Two people, one’s a woman, I think.’
‘Our man usually works alone,’ said Allan.
‘Yeah, but not always,’ said Cramer. ‘Remember the Kypriano killing? Someone else was in the boat that picked him up. And there’ve been other cases where he’s had someone driving a getaway car.’
Allan turned his head and surreptitiously moved the wing mirror so that he could see directly behind the Mercedes. ‘The metallic grey Rover?’
‘That’s the one,’ said Martin. ‘It’s not one of ours, is it?’
‘No, it’s bloody well not. And if it was, I’d have their balls on toast. Can you make out the registration number?’
‘Too far away,’ Martin replied. ‘Shall I lose them?’
Allan looked at him scornfully. ‘If we lose them, they’ll know we’re onto them. That’s not what we’re trying to achieve here, right?’
‘I was joking, Allan,’ said Martin.
‘Slow down, see if we can get the number.’
‘I guess I should do that without braking, right?’ Martin flashed a grin at Allan and took his foot off the accelerator.
Allan watched the Rover in the mirror. ‘He’s slowing too.’
The driver of the black taxi behind them beeped his horn impatiently. Martin accelerated again.
‘Drive to the apartment,’ said Allan. ‘They can’t do anything while we’re in the car. Let’s see what happens when we get to Chelsea Harbour.’
Cramer smiled at Su-ming. ‘It’ll be okay,’ he said. She nodded, unconvinced. Cramer realised that he was still holding her hand. He released his grip and folded his arms. ‘It might not be him,’ he said.
‘They’re still there,’ said Martin.
Cramer squeezed his arms. He could feel the gun in its holster pressing against his ribs but wasn’t reassured by its presence.
Martin turned onto the road that led to Chelsea Harbour, his eyes flicking between the rear-view mirror and the way ahead. ‘He’s indicating,’ he said. ‘Yeah, here he comes. Still too far away to get the registration.’
They drove by the Conrad Hotel towards the towering apartment block with its blue-framed balconies and pyramid roof. Martin turned left to follow the road around to the car park. ‘False alarm,’ said Allan. ‘They’re pulling up in front of the hotel.’
Cramer tried to relax. He uncrossed his arms, rested his head on the back of the seat and sighed. His heart was racing and his palms were sweating.
‘Okay?’ asked Allan as they drove down into the underground car park and stopped in front of the entrance to the apartment block.
Cramer nodded but didn’t reply. Martin and Allan got out of the Mercedes and walked around to Cramer’s door. The area outside the entrance was clear but the two men still formed a protective barrier as they escorted Cramer inside. The doorman nodded at them.
They took the elevator up to the ground level and walked across the marble-floored foyer. The doorman on duty wasn’t the man who’d been there when they’d left that morning. He was younger, with a thin face and pale blue eyes. Cramer transferred the metal case to his left hand. The doorman waved a greeting to Allan, then reached under the counter. Cramer tensed and flexed the fingers of his right hand. ‘Easy,’ said Allan out of the corner of his mouth, ‘he’s one of ours.’
The doorman brought an envelope out from under the counter and held it out for Su-ming as Allan and Martin walked either side of Cramer to the elevator.
Marie opened the door of the Rover and climbed in, her face flushed with excitement. ‘They went into an apartment block, the tall one,’ she said. ‘The two big guys kept really close to him as they went in.’
‘They’re bodyguards all right,’ said Lynch.
‘Why would Cramer need a bodyguard?’ asked Marie. ‘Do you think they know we’re after him?’
‘I can’t see how,’ said Lynch. ‘Besides, it doesn’t make sense. If they were trying to protect him, they’d make him disappear. The Brits could give him a new identity, a new passport and a ticket to anywhere in the world. They wouldn’t put him on full view like this. Maybe Vander Mayer’s in the apartment. What did they do with the car?’
‘The chauffeur came out after a few minutes and parked it.’
‘So it looks like they’re staying for a while, doesn’t it? And who’s that girl hanging around with them?’
Marie shrugged. ‘I don’t know. But the bodyguards definitely aren’t for her. She was following them.’
Lynch made a clicking sound with his tongue. It was a nervous habit, and he didn’t realise he was doing it until Marie started to copy him. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I’ve always done that when I think, ever since I was a kid. Used to annoy the hell out of my teachers during exams.’
‘I bet. What are you thinking about?’
‘I’m working out what to do.’
‘What are our options?’
Lynch put his head on one side as he looked at her. ‘We can keep following him, we can try to find out what Cramer’s up to. Or we can pull back, see if the bodyguards are a permanent feature. Or we can go for the
hit now.’
Marie put her hand on Lynch’s shoulder. ‘You know what my choice would be?’
Lynch stared into her eyes. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, I know what you want.’ He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. ‘I’m knackered,’ he said. ‘Whatever we do, we should rest for a while.’
Marie nodded at the hotel. ‘Well, we’re in the right place for that,’ she said.
As soon as they entered the flat, Su-ming disappeared down the corridor towards the bedrooms with the metal briefcase. Cramer heard a door shut and he figured she was probably putting the case into Vander Mayer’s safe.
Martin went off into the kitchen and Cramer and Allan followed him. ‘I’m starving,’ said Martin. He pulled open the door to the refrigerator and peered inside. ‘Jesus H. Christ, there’s enough food in here to feed a regiment,’ he said. He took off his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair, unclipped his underarm holster, then stripped off his shirt to reveal the dark blue bullet-proof vest he was wearing. He ripped away the Velcro straps, slid the vest off and dropped it onto the table. The table shuddered.
‘Should be enough to keep you going until tomorrow, then,’ said Allan as he switched on the electric kettle.
Martin put his shirt back on, then took a carton of eggs, a plastic-wrapped pack of Danish bacon, a pack of Walls sausages and half a pound of butter from the fridge. ‘You can’t see any bread, can you?’ he asked.
Cramer pointed at a large stainless steel bin with ‘BREAD’ etched into its side. ‘Shot in the dark, but that could be it,’ he said.
Martin piled the foodstuffs onto the work surface by the stove and opened the bin. ‘Perfect,’ he said, taking out a loaf of Hovis. ‘I love a bit of fried bread.’ A large frying pan was hanging from a hook on the wall and Martin took it down. ‘One egg or six?’ he asked Allan.
‘Two. Fried. Black on the bottom, runny on the top, same as you always do them.’
‘Mike?’
Cramer shook his head.
‘Not worried about your cholesterol level, are you?’ asked Martin. ‘That Su-ming’s got you on some sort of health kick, hasn’t she?’
‘Yeah, she’s taking a real interest in you,’ added Allan.
The Double Tap (Stephen Leather Thrillers) Page 36
