And trust you to let me go?’
'That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.’
He watched Travers weighing it up, uncertainty in his eyes.
'Okay,’ he said. 'Now, I saw you took Nasenko out just now. What
has he told you about his man over there?’
Travers turned and nodded towards Joe, who was watching them
with a determinedly neutral expression.
'Like what?’ Liam asked.
'Like his career history. His resume.’
Liam affected a lack of interest. 'Get to the point, or go back and
sit down.’
'The point is that Joe Carter, or whatever he calls himself, isn’t just
a common or garden bodyguard.’ Travers grinned. 'He’s a cop. An
undercover cop.’
Forty-Two
Joe was too far away to hear, too far away to read anything but body
language. But that was enough.
He knew what Travers was going to tell them – because now he
remembered where he’d seen the American before. Going back ten
years or more, Joe had been attending a meeting at New Scotland
Yard. During a break, he and a fellow officer had queued for the coffee
machine behind the American, who’d been deep in conversation with
a couple of people from what was then known as SO 12, or Special
Branch. The man had been unfamiliar to them both, but Joe’s
colleague had deduced who – or what – he was.
CIA.
Reflecting on it, Joe guessed that Travers would have retired from
the Agency by now, and had probably transferred his skills and contacts
to the more lucrative civilian arena. If so, that would explain his
meeting with Valentin earlier today.
Joe felt a calm descend on him. Whatever was about to happen,
there was little he could do but wait and see how it played out. But
Angela looked sick with fear, as though she too had worked out what
leverage Travers might have. Joe tried to reassure her that he wasn’t
going to panic, and neither should she.
Valentin ought to have been desperate to know what Liam and
Travers were talking about, but he appeared remarkably unperturbed.
Perhaps nothing that Travers told them would alter Valentin’s own
predicament. After all, Yuri had already betrayed him—
Joe shut his eyes. When he did, the image that came to him was
a drop of whisky, sliding down a silver hip flask. It had stuck in his
mind for a reason, and now he understood what it was.
A toast. They had drunk a toast to their success.
And then he recalled the conversation that Cassie had reported
overhearing. Yuri asking, 'Do you want to kill them?’ and Valentin’s
reply: 'Not if we can find a better way.’
When Joe opened his eyes the other prisoners were staring at him,
aware that something important had happened. Angela spoke to him,
and so did Maria, but Joe’s mind was elsewhere.
He looked at Valentin. You knew about Yuri.’
Valentin shook his head, but the gesture lacked conviction.
'What are you saying?’ Terry Fox demanded.
'This is a set-up,’ Joe said, still working it through in his mind. A
big, elaborate con-trick.’
Then everyone started talking at once: a few seconds of noisy
outrage, brought to a halt when Liam marched over. Travers was alongside
him, looking smugly pleased.
Liam drew his gun, glanced at Valentin and then turned his attention
to Joe.
'Mr Travers here claims you’re a cop. Is that right?’
Liam watched Joe carefully. He believed he would be able to spot
the lie, if and when it came.
He also felt sure the allegation was true. Joe’s composure had bothered
him from the start. It was characteristic of a professional of some
sort: police, army, special forces. After all, why else would Valentin
have employed him?
Joe took a long time to reply. Liam could sense the other prisoners
hardly daring to breathe. Turner and Priya stood off to one side,
watching and waiting.
'Well?’
Finally Joe nodded. 'I was a police officer, just like he was in the
CIA.’ He indicated Travers. 'But I’m not a cop any more. Haven’t
been for years. I work for Valentin.’
It was a neat manoeuvre, Liam thought, passing the onus on to
Nasenko. It was also a reminder that the prisoners would expect him
to question Joe’s employer.
'Did you know this?’ he asked.
The Ukrainian shook his head. 'No. We suspected the ID he gave
us was false, but there can be many reasons for this.’
Stupid fucker, Liam thought. He came dangerously close to saying
it aloud. Organising a job like this with a bloody ex-cop on your books . . . He put it aside for now. Looked from Valentin to Travers, then to
Joe. You killed two of my men. I’m sure you’d allege it was self
defence, but I doubt if you can prove that.’
Joe started to protest but Liam cut him off.
'That means you’ve crossed a line, a line no serving policeman
would dare to cross. Therefore I conclude that you’re not a threat to
us.’
Now it was Travers who began to speak. Liam turned and aimed
his gun at the American’s belly.
'Hey, we had a deal, buddy,’ Travers shouted. 'I was trying to help
you.’
'Bullshit,’ said Liam. 'This was about saving your own skin.’
He fired twice, hitting Travers in the stomach and chest from a distance
of less than four feet. Because of the silencer, the noise was unspectacular.
A couple of the prisoners had their backs to him and didn’t fully
comprehend what they’d heard until the American crashed to the floor.
Joe watched Travers fall, his eyes still wide in disbelief that his scheme
hadn’t paid off. The only consolation was that it was a quick death;
perhaps better than Travers deserved. But Joe took no satisfaction
from it.
You didn’t need to do that,’ he told Liam. 'It just demonstrates how
frightened you are.’
The Irishman laughed off the comment. With his acolytes in tow,
he returned to the far side of the garage. Joe kept an eye on Valentin,
who looked genuinely staggered by Travers’s murder.
'It’s not going according to plan, is it?’
Valentin sighed. 'Please, Joe. No more crazy talk.’
The weariness was genuine, Joe could see, but the reason for it was
false.
'It’s not crazy. You and Yuri worked on this together.’
'Is that true?’ Terry Fox asked. He looked as though he would tear
Valentin to pieces given half a chance.
'It had better not be,’ Angela said. 'If I thought you had anything
to do with my husband’s murder . . .’
Valentin flinched. 'I tell you, no, it is not true. I am here, aren’t I?
A prisoner, like you.’ Joe spotted the tiny, calculating glance at his audience:
trying to gauge the effectiveness of his performance. 'Remember
that McWhirter is dead, too. My adviser, my friend for many years.’
These last words carried enough weight to create plausible doubt.
Angela and Terry fell silent, but Maria caught Joe’s eye and shook her
head emphatically. Like J
oe, she wasn’t convinced.
'We were attacked in Brighton,’ he told Valentin. 'Two men and a
woman, driving an M-class Mercedes. They were trying to abduct Sofia.’
'What?’ Valentin looked thunderstruck. 'Is she all right? Is she safe?’
Joe nodded. 'You’re saying you didn’t arrange for it?’
?“Me? Why would I. . . ?’
'To pre-empt a custody battle. Because you and Cassie are on the
verge of separating.’
Valentin slowly worked through Joe’s accusation. His body seemed
to sag, and he looked around hopelessly, as though he no longer cared
whether anyone believed him.
'No,’ he said at last. 'I swear to you, I know nothing of this.’
Liam was aware of Priya seething quietly as she followed him across
the garage. The pressure on him was suddenly overwhelming. At that
moment he could have happily slaughtered everyone in the room just
for the chance to take off his mask and breathe some fresh air. He
felt the walls closing in, the garage no more than a cell, getting smaller,
tighter, as his options ran out. . .
And a cell was where he might end up. Liam knew he could never
survive that. He’d kill himself rather than face incarceration.
The first time Priya spoke, he missed it and she had to repeat her
question.
'I said, do you think that was wise?’
'I don’t care. The Yank was pissing me off.’
Priya’s eyes narrowed. 'Travers was a vital link in the chain. We
need someone Felton trusts, to corroborate what happened.’
'Not any more we don’t. Because we’re going to get Felton over
here, and then he can see for himself.’
Priya sighed. Not the reaction Liam expected.
'What’s the matter with you? Calling Felton was your fucking idea.’
And if for some reason it doesn’t happen? By killing Travers you’ve
just destroyed your back-up plan.’
'We don’t need a back-up plan.’
Turner, not quite eavesdropping, muttered: 'Could have fooled me.’
'Look, we’ve had some setbacks,’ Liam said, 'and we’ve dealt with
every one of them. Believe me, once you see inside that panic room
you’ll forget all about this.’
'I bloody well hope so,’ said Turner.
All right,’ said Priya, sticking rigidly to business. 'What about Joe?’
'Like I said, I’m not worried about him. When we’re done here
we’ll strap him to a propane canister and it’ll be like he never existed.’
Liam laughed, but no one else joined in.
'Come on,’ he said. 'We’ll take Oliver into the lounge to make the
call, then you two can help the others. Once we get the vans loaded
up we’ll feel a lot better.’
They turned back towards the prisoners. Liam noticed Eldon sitting
against the wall, the box file from Felton’s safe open on his lap. As
he watched, Eldon added another sheet to the loose pile of papers on
the floor and turned to the next item in the box.
Then he stopped. He looked up and back down again, staring at
a small brown envelope. He picked it up, examined both sides, then
glanced over as he heard Liam approaching.
'What?’ said Liam. You found something?’
'I’m not sure,’ said Eldon. He sounded confused. 'I think so.’
Forty-Three
This was the moment Oliver had been dreading. The last piece of
the puzzle had fallen into place only minutes before, when the guard
opened the box file and Oliver remembered . . .
... the file materialising in his father’s study, four or five days ago.
Oliver carried out regular if desultory sweeps of the room. He knew
that anything valuable or vaguely scandalous would be kept well out
of his grasp, but still it amused him to search from time to time.
But riffling through the box had yielded nothing of interest. A
couple of days later, when he’d gone back into the study, there had
been an envelope sitting on top of the box. At the time it had left
him intrigued, but not particularly excited. It was just one of those
things that didn’t make much sense.
Until now.
'What is it?’ Liam said.
Eldon shrugged. He held the envelope at arm’s length, as if he
wanted nothing more to do with it.
Liam took it from him. The envelope felt thin: probably no more
than a single sheet of paper inside. No stamp or postmark. But it was
sealed at the back, and on the front there was a name, handwritten
in capital letters.
Liam looked at it for a long time. He wanted to believe it was a
bizarre coincidence, or some kind of joke.
'Where did you find it?’
Eldon lifted a thick wad of documents. 'Right at the bottom, tucked
between a couple of old share certificates.’
Liam felt Priya at his side. He showed her the envelope. Her arm
brushed against his shoulder as she leaned over to look; neither of
them reacted to the contact.
She stared at the name on the envelope, then at Liam. She opened
her mouth to speak but he shook his head. Say nothing.
The letter might have been addressed to Valentin, but there was
absolutely no question of giving it to him, or even alerting him to its
existence. This understanding passed swiftly between them, confirmed
by Priya’s nod of approval as Liam hooked his thumb into the flap
and ripped the envelope open.
No going back now.
Then someone shouted his name.
Joe was inclined to believe that Valentin knew nothing about the
abduction attempt. He was far less confident when it came to Valentin’s
One thing Joe did know: Valentin Nasenko played second fiddle
to nobody. If he was involved, it was more than likely that he’d masterminded
the entire operation. And Robert Felton would be the principal
target, for two reasons.
Firstly, once the Nasenkos were discounted, Felton was far and away
the wealthiest individual on Terror’s Reach. Secondly, and perhaps more
crucially, there was a deep personal animosity between the two men.
So far, so logical. But there were still missing pieces of the puzzle – like the abduction, and Allotti’s death.
He looked up, aware that Liam had made an abrupt detour towards
Eldon. Joe wondered why the guard was spending so much time
looking through old paperwork. What did they hope to find?
Dismissing it, he went back to the twin anomalies: the kidnap
attempt and Allotti’s murder. This time he made the connection at
once. They were linked by one man.
Yuri had been only yards away from Allotti when Joe stumbled
upon the body.
Yuri had instructed Joe to take Cassie and the children to the
jewellers at a specific time.
'Oh shit,’ Joe whispered.
He sat up, craning to get a clear sight of Liam. He was holding an
envelope, which he showed to Priya before tearing it open.
'Liam!’
The Irishman glanced at him, irritated, then turned away.
'Listen to me,’ said Joe. 'You have a guard at the bridge, right?’
'Shut up!’ From Turner, striding towards him.
You need to speak to him. Right now. Otherwise he’ll end up like
Allotti.’
'Bollocks,’ said Turner. 'You killed Allotti.’
'No. Believe me, you have to call him. Make sure he’s still alive.’
Liam could hear what Joe was saying, but the words barely penetrated.
He felt strangely apprehensive as he opened the envelope, as though
its contents might somehow prove more hazardous than anything they’d
encountered so far.
Inside there was a sheet of good-quality A5 paper, folded in half.
He unfolded it and held it out for them both to read. One word,
written in the same block capitals as on the envelope:
Priya reacted first. 'What does he mean by that?’
'No idea. But I don’t like it’
'Do you think it’s a … I don’t know, a draft version or something?’
'Maybe. But the envelope was sealed.’
'So he just hadn’t got round to sending it?’
'They live virtually next door to each other,’ Liam said. His mouth
had gone dry, and he swallowed with difficulty. There was an idea
forming in his mind, and it was one he wanted desperately to ignore.
He saw that Turner had moved away from the prisoners and was
talking on his radio. He must be taking Joe’s warning seriously. Liam
would have bawled him out for that, but he had more important things
on his mind.
He strode towards the prisoners. When they saw him coming, they
shuffled like nervous livestock. They avoided direct eye contact, but
watched him with wary sidelong glances.
Oliver Felton was the exception. Head down, gaze fixed on the
floor, brow furrowed with concentration; he might have been trying
to vanish by sheer willpower.
Liam thrust the paper in front of Oliver’s face. 'Explain this.’
Oliver said nothing. With his free hand, Liam took out his gun
and jammed the muzzle against Oliver’s temple.
'Tell me.’
Oliver looked up at the note, then back at the floor. 'I can’t
explain it.’
'Do you recognise the handwriting?’
'It’s my father’s, I think. But I’ve no idea what it means.’
'Not good enough,’ said Liam. 'When your dad cleared out the
safe, why did he leave that box of documents?’
'Most of it is worthless,’ Oliver said. 'I suppose he didn’t think there
was any need to move it.’
'So why not throw it away?’
'I don’t know.’