Tim Heath Thriller Boxset

by Tim Heath

  “The device. How did it know what pizza I liked?”

  He dropped the pizza on the table, the lid open. There were ten pieces of fresh pizza in front of them all, and the smell was inviting.

  “Well, dig in then everyone!” Craig said, the others all following suit. It tasted good.

  29

  Played out to an audience of millions, the video went viral. By the end of the day, the story had been retold to tens of millions more people. The inventor and founder of RusCom who proved his own device by being killed were all the chat rooms were talking about.

  As a company, shares in RusCom doubled in an hour. The company was valued at nearly three hundred million dollars by the end of the trading day. The futures market also held firm, trading picking up at totally unparalleled levels.

  The sale of RusCom as a business was now just six days away, and it was made clear that the business would only be sold as a whole with the rights to produce this tablet firmly within the package. Overnight, it became the hottest property in the world. Advance orders were already being received for the device, not yet in mass production. By the end of the day, two and a half million orders had already been placed, and that number was expected to keep on rising.

  The following day saw an instant decline in sales of the current market-leading devices, including Apple’s latest iPad and Samsung’s Galaxy Note. Both companies spotted the downward trend and were suitably alarmed. At least they had a response lined up though it was now going to cost them more than twice what they thought.

  Meetings were set up with Apple and Samsung, as before. RusCom now had all the bargaining power. Less than thirty-six hours after releasing the video of the press conference, it had fifty-million views on YouTube alone.

  Anya had replied to Charlie’s message from the day of the press conference. He said they needed to meet urgently and thankfully she’d seen it his way. He was heading out to Zurich, therefore, that night, just over a day since the story broke, and still five days before the sale of the world’s now most coveted business. He hadn’t bothered to let anyone else know his actual plans, though MI6 knew what he intended to do.

  Anya, stuck in St Petersburg, had the bigger issue, namely getting away again without being seen. She’d come into the office later than usual that morning, so that one member of her team was actually in before her, a rare event. She’d made a big display about needing to be left undisturbed all day, that all calls were to be screened, messages taken. She could be emailed with messages if needed. She’d then entered her office and shut the door. She had arranged a courier to drop something off for her ten minutes after she arrived. She heard the call come through, her secretary answering it after one ring and getting up to go collect the package. It was the opening she needed. Anya exited her office quickly, no one there to see her leave. She closed her door, locked it for good measure, though all the lights were still on. She then left via the back staircase, walking out onto the street three minutes later. She would leave the car there. Walking down another street, she got into the taxi that was waiting for her and headed for the airport. With any luck, she’d get to Zurich and back without anyone noticing she’d ever left.

  In London, the FSB tracking team reported that Charlie was heading to the airport. They already knew his destination––Zurich. This was his third trip there in a month.

  “Target is on the Zurich flight,” they sent.

  “Received. We have a team in place at the hotel already. It’s expected that he’s meeting his Russian contact there again. We’ll listen to what they discuss but have orders to end it.”

  No one would follow him onto the plane. Why bother when they knew where he was heading to in the first place and they could be there waiting for him? Charlie had become a nuisance. It was time he was eliminated.

  As Charlie was preparing to meet Anya in Zurich, other meetings were taking place around the world. More specifically, in South Korea and California. Samsung and Apple had moved to firm up their offer to buy RusCom, in the light of the latest revelation and hype surrounding the company. It was still four days away from the supposed public sale of the company. Both computer giants were meeting secretly with RusCom representatives to strike a deal before that date. Neither knew of the other’s involvement. This was meant to be a one-time deal between RusCom and their company.

  The price that both companies had been told they needed to pay was five hundred million dollars. That was quite a hike compared to the current market value, but they each had the money. Neither jumped into the deal right away, but one day after being contacted they were present at the meetings, each with a bank transfer ready to the tune of half a billion dollars.

  Money wires were set up, and the transfers made––both Apple and Samsung, unknown to each other, apparently buying the Russian computer company RusCom for five hundred million dollars. With public demand for this new tablet at record levels, both saw it as a worthwhile investment. The two RusCom representatives were back on the plane that night, heading for Moscow once again, pleased with what they’d managed to achieve.

  In London, as well as other financial centres, trading had picked up massively in RusCom stock. The general stock market had seen a forty-per-cent rise in share value, but the biggest gains were still in the futures market, with just four days before the stock went live.

  In Zurich, there was fog pressing in. Thankfully, Charlie’s flight had landed before it got serious, though later flights were not as lucky. Anya, having arrived earlier in the day, was already settled in the hotel as Charlie’s taxi pulled up to the now familiar hotel. He paid the driver and took with him the small bag that had been his only carry-on luggage for the flight he’d just taken.

  Across the road, watching from a black van, three FSB agents spotted Charlie arriving. They’d bugged his room already, as well as the lobby area restaurant, not knowing where exactly he’d meet to talk with his contact. At the moment they didn’t want to be in the hotel. They wanted nothing more than to stay unnoticed on this one.

  Charlie rode the lift to the seventh floor, once again being given the same hotel room by the staff, which was common procedure for regular visitors. He didn’t know if there’d be a fourth visit, but he was enjoying the fact this was another trip with Anya. He knew their friendship was returning, that the barriers of silence were beginning to be broken down and that maybe this trip there was a chance for them. He hoped it was third time lucky.

  He’d not been in his room for more than five minutes when there was the sound of three familiar knocks on the door. Gentle and very feminine. He checked through the spy hole anyway and saw Anya standing there, her eyes looking big as he viewed them through the distorted lens. He opened the door, and she walked in, kissing him on each check as they greeted.

  “It’s good to see you again, Anya,” he said. “Was it a problem getting away?”

  “Not so much,” she said, not wanting to waste time on the details. She went over to the mini bar and grabbed a small bottle of something that looked reasonably alcoholic.

  “That’ll show up on my room bill, you know, not yours,” he laughed at her.

  “I think it’s the least the British Secret Service can do, don’t you think?”

  They sat down by the window, each taking their now usual place. It was amazing how habits formed so quickly.

  “A crazy week,” Charlie said.

  “You’re telling me.”

  “You know the world has gone mad, don’t you.”

  “Nothing new there. You don’t buy it all then?” There was no doubt in her voice that either of them did.

  “None of it makes any sense, that’s for sure.”

  “What do you make of it, Charlie?”

  “I don’t know. I really don’t.” He was looking out of the window at that point. A man was smoking down on the ground next to a black transit van. “Let’s get some fresh air, shall we, then some food. All this travelling has made me hungry. And I promise we won’t try
a candlelit restaurant again, honest!”

  She smiled and stood up. Three minutes later they were leaving through the front door, roaming around the city that they were starting to get to know. The FSB team monitoring them had two men now follow them. Surveillance on the move was always a lot harder than if they were spying on a fixed position. Nothing that had been said so far bore any danger to Russia, so they were somewhat at ease. Still, it was possible that the conversation would develop. Listening in, while they were in a public place, made it a little more tricky. After their run-in with Charlie in London, though this was now a different team entirely, they knew they had to be careful so as not to arouse suspicion again. They still had a kill order on Charlie ready to go, if the situation warranted it, though if they could avoid that, they’d be happy. The way it was panning out looked more like a love interest than anything more sinister.

  Charlie and Anya had spent some time walking before coming upon a little Italian pizza parlour, where they found a table. They spent an enjoyable hour, sharing a bottle of red wine between them, though Charlie had most of it. The food had been excellent, but it was the company Charlie had enjoyed most of all. Anya made him come alive inside, feelings and emotions again revived, when once he thought they’d been lost forever. They left the restaurant just after two, the air still cold though the fog had lifted somewhat. He had his arm around Anya as they walked the first part of their journey back as she’d said she was cold. After about fifty metres she pulled away, still a little unsure herself about everything.

  Getting back to the hotel, Charlie registered the same black van sitting on the road opposite. He couldn’t see anyone around it this time, but it made him cautious.

  “Come on, let’s go inside,” he said to Anya, not saying anything more about his concerns.

  They walked through the doors, towards the lift. He’d suggested they talk further up in his room. It would also give him a bird’s-eye view of the ground, in case it was needed. The lift opened, and they got in. One minute later they were in his room. Housekeeping had been, the room was clean, the bottle of vodka replaced in the mini bar. Charlie checked his phone as he stood by the window, looking at nothing in particular, but watching the van in his peripheral vision. There was no sign of anyone near it, though he couldn’t actually see into the van from where he was.

  On his phone was a message from London. He scanned it before turning to Anya.

  “Word from HQ is that large payments have just been made into a numbered account, belonging to RusCom. Both Apple and Samsung have paid up five hundred million.”

  “They are buying the firm together?” Anya said. “For one billion?”

  Charlie’s mind started working at speed. He started going through everything in his head, trying to piece it all together.

  “They’re playing one off against the other. The sale is due in under four days, and yet both these firms think they’ve just purchased the company. My hunch is that neither knows of the other’s interest. They would hardly do this together, not with their history. So what are RusCom playing at? There is no way that they could get away with this. Only one firm would be able to get the actual blueprints...” he trailed off at that moment.

  “What is it?” Anya said.

  Charlie was pacing around, going back and forth connecting the things in his mind, the final pieces of an elaborate puzzle.

  “Unless...” he said. “Unless you have nothing actually to sell.”

  “What?”

  “Man, how have we not seen this one coming? How could I have been so stupid!”

  “Charlie, what is it? What are you talking about?”

  “Look, there is no way RusCom could sell their company to two businesses at the same time unless they are trying to cheat them. Both companies are paying a premium because of what they know they’ll get.”

  “The patents for this tablet of theirs, you mean?”

  “Exactly, Anya. The world has been going crazy over it. Hype has driven even the markets to bet big,” he said, pausing before starting along another track. “For my sins, I play a little and watch a lot of poker on TV. Now with poker, it’s not what you’ve got that counts, it’s what the other players think you’ve got.”

  “A bluff, you mean?”

  “Yes, exactly. They’ve bluffed their way to persuading two giant competitors to pay top dollar for a product they’ve most likely never actually seen, only heard about.”

  “That would mean everything that has happened has been staged...” Anya said, realising the implications of her statement.

  “Yes!” Charlie agreed, jumping around suddenly on the spot. “There was something you said when we first met at the crime scene. What was it again? Yeah, I remember. I asked you if you had any doubts about the outcome and you said something like you didn’t, nothing that mattered now. What mattered at the time?”

  Anya thought for a moment.

  “The one thing that bothered me most when I first arrived at the crime scene was that the police had already had the victim taken away.”

  “What! You never saw the body?”

  “No, it was gone already.”

  They both stared at each other as realisation dawned. Standing at the window, Charlie saw the black van now moving away, and he watched it for a second.

  Inside the van, the FSB team, who’d been listening to everything being said up on the seventh floor, had heard enough. Now driving away, a member of the team dialled a number for the mobile phone attached to an explosive in Charlie’s room. Seconds later, there was a loud explosion, a fireball coming from the room as glass and windows gave way, a body clearly being seen propelled from the exploding room. The van sped away, satisfied their job had been done.

  30

  In London, Zoe was at home watching the television when a breaking news flash reported the suspected terrorist attack at a hotel in Zurich. She turned up the volume and watched carefully.

  “Police and fire services were called to the hotel at two fifty, local time, after an explosion in a room on the seventh floor,” the reporter was saying to the camera. She was standing outside the hotel, emergency vehicles visible behind her. “Bomb disposal experts have been here for the last hour, and they have just confirmed that a bomb caused this explosion, probably detonated remotely.”

  “Is there any word of injuries at this moment?” the news anchor in the studio asked.

  “Yes, there is. One body was found outside the front of the hotel. That has been taken away to the morgue where it is believed tests will need to be carried out to confirm its identity. And one person, believed to be still alive, was also found in the room. Again, these are unconfirmed reports at this stage. What we do know is that the room was single occupancy. It is not known, therefore, if either of these victims was, in fact, the guest or if they were hotel staff or possibly the terrorists themselves.” The reporter signed off.

  “We’ll bring you more on this story as we have it. Now onto other news...” and Zoe muted the television at that point. She picked up her telephone and called Charlie instinctively. The phone was not responding. She would keep trying but at that moment grabbed her coat and car keys and headed to Charlie’s office at MI6. She knew they’d know a little bit more than anyone as to where he was staying and whether they’d heard from him. Something inside her, however, was making her fear the worst.

  Finally making it through clearance at MI6, Zoe walked into the office of Charlie’s boss. A lot was happening, it was clear something was up.

  “I take it it was his hotel then,” she said, once she had the opportunity. She’d heard three references to Zurich since walking into the room, the name of the hotel mention at least once as well.

  “Hello, Zoe,” he said to her. “Yes, they were staying in that hotel. We’ve no word back from anyone at this moment, which only suggests the worst. I’m flying over there myself later today with another man.”

  “Can I come too, if that’s possible?” She was meant to be
resting, not due back at work with Scotland Yard for another few days.

  “I guess that could be arranged,” he said. He could see there was something about her. Maybe she’d make a good MI6 agent as well, one day.

  Thirty minutes later they were in a car together, on their way to pick up the other man before heading to the airport. Their flight was due to leave for Zurich in four hours.

  In Moscow, confirmation reached the Kremlin about developments in Zurich. The FSB held the tapes that were recorded from the hotel room before the explosion but were not releasing these to anyone. The fact that the Russian agent had been named Anya made them a little fearful. A check was being made in St Petersburg to confirm the exact whereabouts of Anya Lubova. Her mother’s influence in Moscow was vast, and they needed to know the girl was not involved, before releasing all the details.

  Elena Lubova sat in her office at the Kremlin with three other men, all of whom sat in the shadowy corners of the room. Among these men was an Englishman who’d been a constant part of each of the meetings so far. An Englishman who, besides a brief visit to St Petersburg for the execution, had been hiding in Moscow for weeks. He was none other than Anthony Fernandes. He’d been briefing with Elena through the last two months, and together they had been pulling the strings of power. He’d been the one to order a team to follow Charlie to Zurich. It had been his suggestion to the head of the FSB that a bomb be planted in case aggressive intervention was required against the British agent, following concerns that he was working with someone on the Russian side.

  “Your boys made quite a mess in Zurich; it seems, Anthony,” Elena said.

  “They were not my boys. But steps did need to be taken against the man threatening the whole operation.”

  “Has the money been received?” she asked, changing the subject.