of course security men would not dare to search. A profound insult. And inside the scrolls—Semtex. You wouldn’t need much to do the job at close quarters. The Prime Minister would be blown to hell.’
‘With everyone around him.’
‘What a moment,’ Kupu roared, and the door to the other room opened and Liri staggered out, trying to cover her torn dress with the raincoat and still clutching her handbag. She stood there, crying bitterly.
‘Look at you,’ Kupu said. ‘Disgusting. Who in the hell would want you? Go on, get out.’
‘But I’ve no money for a cab,’ she wailed.
‘Then you can walk in the rain. Better than a shower. Wash the stink off you.’
At which point Holley, having had enough, said, ‘No need for that, Liri. I’m leaving myself. I’ll be going by cab and I’ll drop you off.’
Suddenly Kupu didn’t seem as drunk as he had been. ‘What is this about you leaving?’
‘I don’t like the way you do business.’
‘Really? Then obviously you need to pay a visit to the next room, where Abu will indicate what is expected of you. I don’t think it will take long for you to get the point.’
As Holley stood up, he produced the Colt .25, extended his arm and shot Ali Kupu twice in the heart, knocking him back over the chair. Liri gave a strangled cry, then leaned over to look. Abu seemed stunned and uncertain what to do.
Liri recovered a little and turned to Holley. ‘He’s dead.’
‘That’s what I meant him to be. Can you drive?’
‘Yes.’
‘Take one of the vans and get out of here, and you can also take the Gladstone bag with you as far as I’m concerned. Will you be okay?’
‘Fine. I’ve got a passport. I’ll be out of Paris first thing in the morning. God bless you. I’ll never forget you.’
‘I’d rather you did.’
He picked up the Walther, put the Colt in his pocket and pulled on his rain hat. Liri was already disappearing into the night at the wheel of a van. Abu said, ‘What happens now?’
‘You pick up the body, carry him out to the jetty like a good boy, and we dump him into the Seine.’
‘And if I refuse?’
‘For starters, I’ll have to shoot you in the right kneecap.’ He produced the Colt from his pocket. ‘Hollow point cartridges, Abu. You’ll never be able to stand up on the podium again.’
‘You bastard,’ Abu told him, went round the desk, picked up Ali Kupu as if he were a rag doll and walked towards the other end of the warehouse. Holley followed.
It was raining harder than ever and Abu paused, looking down through the lights to the Seine, Notre Dame floating in the dark way up to the right.
‘Now what?’
‘Straight to the end of the jetty and drop him in. Go on, get on with it.’
The big man walked through the lights, holding the body in both hands, paused at the end for a long moment, then dropped the corpse in. It surfaced for a moment, then drifted away into the darkness.
Abu turned and faced Holley. ‘She won’t get away with it, that bitch, or you. The Albanian Mafia will hunt you both down.’
‘Thanks for reminding me. Since you are the only witness, it leaves me with little choice.’
There was sudden alarm on Abu’s face and he put a hand out. ‘No, let’s discuss this.’
But Holley’s hand was already swinging up. The silenced Colt coughed once, the bullet hitting Abu between the eyes, and he lurched back over the end of the jetty into the water. Holley returned to the warehouse, opened the small door by which he’d entered and retrieved the umbrella he’d left there. He started to walk back to the barge, thinking about it. The Albanian Mafia was the bane of Paris. The deaths of Abu and Ali Kupu wouldn’t disturb the Paris police in the slightest. He would have to take a chance that Liri would forget all about him, but then she would value her own anonymity. Always with him, a woman in trouble was one thing he could never turn away from. In a way, he’d been a fool, but there it was.
But what Kupu had said about AQ—Al Qaeda. Was it just the idle boast of a drunkard or was there genuinely something to it? Whatever—if there really was a plot to assassinate Vladimir Putin, it would create chaos, and that was bad for everybody. It left him with only one choice, and he quickened his pace and hurried back to the barge.
Colonel Josef Lermov of the GRU had been appointed London’s Head of Station by Putin himself and was the man who’d taken Daniel Holley out of the Lubyanka Prison and told him to deal with Ferguson and his people once and for all, a business which had not really worked out as intended.
He answered the phone in London, astonished at who was calling him.
‘Good God, Daniel. I can’t believe it.’
‘Where are you, Josef?’
‘London. Putin made me Head of Station here.’
‘So he forgave you for your failure?’
‘Your failure, too, Daniel, but yes, I am forgiven, and I think you are also. I’ve followed your success with a certain pride. The Algerians regard you highly. Malik is truly proud of you, as if you were his son.’
So he’s been talking to Malik, and Malik hasn’t told me. Holley stored the information away. ‘That’s nice.’ ‘So what can I do for you?’
‘Certain information has come my way concerning a possible attempt on Vladimir Putin’s life.’ ‘Are you serious?’
‘I can only put the facts before you and you must judge for yourself.’
When he was finished, there was total silence, as if Lermov was taking it all in, so Holley said, ‘Okay, the ravings of a drunken lunatic, I know—’
Lermov cut in, his voice hoarse, ‘The Prime Minister visits Chechnya tomorrow afternoon, and a meeting like the one you describe has been arranged between him and a Mullah named Ibrahim Nadim. The security on it has been massive.’
‘Not massive enough, it seems,’ Holley said.
‘I’ll call the Prime Minister immediately. But, Daniel, I’m curious. You’re leaping to his defence. Why?’
‘Actually, I admire many things about him, even if we don’t always see eye to eye. He’s taken the Russian Federation by the scruff of the neck and made it feel proud again—he’s a genuine patriot. But mostly… I simply don’t think it’s a good idea to assassinate him.’
‘Neither do I. Thank you, Daniel. I’m going now.’
* * *
Sitting
