Whistleblower

by Terry Morgan

CHAPTER 72

  "You awake, Jim?"

  It was five o'clock when Jim's phone rang. He had been half awake since three because the bad dream had recurred - not pigeons this time but cuckoos building nests in a tree somewhere.

  "But cuckoos don't build nests," Margaret had shouted at him in the dream. "They steal nests of other birds. I don't believe a word you say." Margaret, in real life quiet and passive, was raging at him when the phone rang.

  "Yes, who is it?"

  "It's Tom."

  "No need to shout, Tom. Did you get to share a bed with Guido?"

  "I slept in the feckin' car. Have you ever slept in a box, Jim? If I was on expenses I might have paid the 120 Euros they wanted. I now need a wash. Perhaps I'll go upstairs, visit the gents and watch Guido eating a 30 Euro breakfast. But do I keep following him? I can't pursue him across Europe, Jim and he's bound to soon realise a tiny white Opel has been following him half way across Europe."

  "Fancy diverting and, instead, driving to Zurich to check on Freeways? If you start now you'll be there by tonight." Jim tried laughing but his head hurt.

  "If Guido's driving back to Italy he'd go via Zurich. Is that what you're saying?"

  "It's a possibility but I'm not suggesting you tail him through three or four more countries. But driving around Europe even with a set of false driving documents is a far more secure way of hiding your ID than going everywhere by scheduled airline."

  "But he's so short, Jim. He can barely see through the steering wheel. I was right behind him at one point and I could have sworn it was a driverless car. But, seriously, I could ditch the car and fly to Zurich. Then, if we find Guido's hide-out in Italy, I'll head on down there. I bought a camera in Delft and took some lovely photos of Guido and Eischmann - mostly of their backs."

  Jim glanced out of the hotel window. It was still dark so he lay back on the pillow, but Margaret was on his mind as well as Tom in Antwerp. He talked to himself about Jan in Brussels, muttered about Jonathan in London and asked himself how Hugh might be getting on. "Do you think an art exhibition is premature, Hugh? Am I making a stupid mistake?"

  Then his mind went back to Margaret again. The visit to see her had been an emotional disaster, at least for him. "She just walked away, out of my life, mother. What was it Douglas had said about pages being turned? Perhaps he is right. But Douglas has changed, too. He was nervous. He was hiding something."

  Jim's mobile chimed again and made him jump. It was Jonathan - enthusiastic.

  "Guido's based in Milan."

  "And how do you know that?"

  "Jacob Johnson. Not surprisingly, he's as mad as hell about what's happened to the Sierra Leone bid. I think he'd like to blame me, but he doesn't know what I've done or how. So he's blaming Guido and so I asked him to find out more. He then spoke to the Lebanese guys. They met Guido in Milan and think he's based somewhere near Linate airport. They were taken to a restaurant in Milan - we don't have the name - and they stayed at the Park Hyatt at Guido's expense. A job for Tom?"

  Jim agreed. "And explain it to me again, Jonathan. What happened in Sierra Leone?"

  "Cherry Pick's plans unravelled because someone, presumably Guido's Nigerian friends, shot dead the local guy who was running Sulima Construction and one, or more, or all of the Cherry businesses. Cole Harding says the guy who was shot is someone called Messiah Moses who also runs a company called Rocki General Supplies. My head's buzzing trying to understand the links, but I'm not alone. Jacob Johnson seems to have the same problem - he's running around like a headless chicken."

  "But we're making waves and causing problems," Jim said, "And no-one has yet noticed us. It can't last, but we all need to stay out of sight as long as we can."