think it’s messing about to make it into Paris undetected? Why couldn’t we meet nearer the farmhouse? Somewhere in a wood maybe?”
“Chris, take it easy,” Saffron cut in. “He’s helping us out.”
Stovorsky’s response was icy. “Maybe in Britain you have secret meetings in the woods all the time,” he mocked, “but this is France. We’re still an old-fashioned democracy. This is a safehouse, Viggo. Do you have a clue what that means?”
Jimmy thought he saw Viggo about to apologise, but Stovorsky rattled on. “It means we can jam listening devices, and it means we have routes to and from here that are sheltered from satellite surveillance. Now, you can go mess about in the woods if you want to or we can get down to business.”
Jimmy held his breath and watched Viggo out of the corner of his eye. The man nodded solemnly.
“Right then,” Stovorsky continued. “We know where the boy’s parents are being held.” Jimmy’s heart leapt.
“Well then,” Viggo insisted, “where is it?”
“The French Embassy in London.”
Jimmy was buzzing – the natural buzz of excitement, not the sensation of his programming taking over. This was a huge step towards rescuing the Muzbekes.
“Wait a minute,” Helen Coates cut in. “How did you find this out?”
Stovorsky nodded as if he had been expecting the question. “We have sources in England,” he stated, then quickly added, “Reliable sources.”
Saffron turned to Helen and Viggo, concerned. “What if NJ7 planted that information? Do you think it could be a trap?” she asked.
Jimmy took in her sombre mood and his initial excitement faded. Don’t ruin this, he thought. Just go and rescue them.
‘There’s only one way to find out,” Viggo mumbled. “How do we get to London?” Jimmy loved Viggo’s determination.
“I shouldn’t be doing this, you know,” Stovorsky sighed.
Before Viggo could respond, Saffron took control. “We really appreciate it, Uno,” she said with a voice coated in honey.
Stovorsky looked away for a second. Then, when he spoke again, Jimmy noticed that he looked anywhere except at Saffron. “OK,” Stovorsky began, “here’s the situation. The French Ambassador to London has been kicked out. Apparently, he provided transport to a group of dissidents.”
Viggo looked sheepishly to the carpet. “Yeah,” he muttered, “that was me.”
“I realised that when we recovered the EC975 in the field behind your farmhouse.” Stovorsky’s tone was disapproving, but Jimmy detected a hint of respect in his half-smile. “The DGSE can provide cover for one of you to go in on a diplomatic visa. Officially, you’ll be on the staff of the new Ambassador.”
Viggo stroked his chin, unsure how to ask for what he needed. Saffron did it for him.
“We need cover for two,” she stated boldly.
“She’s right, I won’t be able to do it alone,” Viggo added.
Stovorsky looked between the two of them, scratching his head. “OK,” he conceded with a sigh, “I think that can be arranged. So am I to assume that it will be you two?”
Again Viggo hesitated and Helen broke the silence. “Yes, it’s those two,” she said.
Stovorsky nodded and pulled out a mobile phone. He held it up and took one picture of Viggo then one of Saffron. Then he buried himself in the keys, sending an encrypted text message.
“Who’s going to examine Jimmy?” Viggo asked. Stovorsky furrowed his brow without looking up from his phone. “What?” he muttered.
“In return for helping us,” Viggo went on, “I assume one of your scientists will examine Jimmy?”
Jimmy prickled at the idea of being ‘examined’. He realised it wouldn’t be quite like going to the doctor. More than that, he felt indignation bristling in him again. Viggo was using him to negotiate, treating Jimmy as a commodity. The hurt quickly faded. All this was for Felix’s parents – and Felix.
“I’m ready,” Jimmy blurted out, aware that his voice betrayed his nerves. “I don’t know everything about myself yet, but I’ll show you what I’ve learned.”
Stovorsky at last finished with his phone. He stared at Jimmy, incredulous. “No,” he scoffed, “I told you. We don’t need that information.” Jimmy’s tension eased.
“Then what do you want from us?” Viggo asked.
“Just this: you’ll be working for the DGSE. We want any intelligence you can pick up while you’re there. Particularly, what NJ7 knows about us.”
“So you’re asking us to spy on the British Government?”
“Do you have a problem with that?”
The response was blank looks.
“That’s fine,” Viggo said at last.
Jimmy was surprised at the ease with which Viggo and Saffron accepted Stovorsky’s price. Viggo had worked against the British Government for years, but always for himself and his democratic ideals – never for France.
Stovorsky glanced again at his mobile phone. “We have to move,” he said, striding to the door. “You two come with me.” Viggo and Saffron followed obediently. “You two,” Stovorsky indicated Jimmy and his mother, “get out of Paris. Now.”
MITCHELL STOOD BOLT upright in front of Dr Higgins’s desk. On the doctor’s lap was a wiry black cat and in his hands was a photograph. Behind him were the other two people who had taken over Mitchell’s life. First was the huge frame of the man who had brought Mitchell in. His military uniform was as crisp as the edges of his regulation haircut. This soldier’s identity was a mystery; Mitchell knew him only as Paduk.
Dr Higgins had the power of science at his disposal and Paduk was as physically intimidating as any man Mitchell had ever seen. But the person he was most afraid of had a lipstick-red smile curling up one cheek and one eyebrow permanently cocked in an expression of disdain. Mitchell had no idea how a woman so beautiful could be so severe, but he couldn’t imagine anyone disobeying Miss Bennett.
“You’re ready,” Miss Bennett announced, clearly relishing the moment. The sickness in Mitchell’s stomach hadn’t disappeared, it had just mutated into something else. An eerie power waiting to explode. He had to know when to push it down and when to let it take him over.
“Your target is dangerous,” Miss Bennett continued. “We need him dead and you back here alive. You were very expensive.” Mitchell nodded. It was almost an automatic response. “And if you attract the attention of the French police, you’ll be useless on
