Katherine opened the door to the apartment. “Petra, how lovely to see you. I thought that perhaps you had returned to England.”
“Soon, I hope.”
“Come in. Sit with me in the kitchen. I'll make some tea.” She shuffled down the hallway with the help of her silver-topped cane.
Petra followed her into an ultra modern kitchen, consisting mostly of stainless steel units and black marble work surfaces. Obviously fitted by experts, it appeared to contain the latest gadgets and appliances. She sat on a tubular metal chair at a circular glass-topped table and looked about her.
Katherine reacted to Petra's apparent admiration of the room. “Previously the kitchen was rather outmoded,” she explained. “It was sixties style…all pine and Formica. Alexis arranged a re-fit as a present for my last birthday. I find that it is so much easier to clean and keep tidy. It's just a shame that he doesn't spend enough time here to appreciate it.”
“Where is Alexis, now?” Petra asked, determined to find answers to justify her visit.
“I thought that he was spending time with you, my dear, before you returned home.”
“I was with him in Marseille until yesterday, when he suddenly left without saying goodbye.”
“Marseille? How nice.” His grandmother poured boiling water into a willow-patterned teapot.
“C'mon, Katherine,” said Petra, certain that she was hiding something. “You must know more than you care to admit about Alexis's secret life. Where is he really?”
The old woman reached into a wall cabinet to select two porcelain beakers. “Perhaps he has returned to our Mother country.”
“To Russia? No way! We were at Dumas's villa. Security forces surrounded it. It was impossible for him to leave without being noticed.”
“Really? Maybe he found an alternative exit.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don't know. I have never been there. I'm just guessing.”
Petra sensed even more that the old woman was holding back, but realised that she was unlikely to divulge the exact whereabouts of her precious grandson. However, there's no harm in trying, she thought.
“You said that he would go to Russia. Where would he head for, Katherine? Would it be St. Petersburg?”
“More likely to Grozny in Chechnya,” she said, placing the beakers on the table.
“Chechnya! Why there? That country's in conflict with Russia, isn't it?”
Katherine poured the tea and sat at the table. “Chechnya is another example of a dangerous and complex war that continues unabated because strategic and political issues are more important. To understand the situation, you need to know the background.”
“Is this one of your fantasies or the truth for once?” For the first time, Petra showed some impatience with the old woman.
“Petra, I have always spoken the truth to you…maybe with some omissions, but I have never lied to you.” Katherine sipped some tea. “As you may know, Russia sees Chechnya as a nightmare scenario with no perceivable end. The tactics employed by the Russian military merely breed more terrorists. The campaign encourages Chechens to join Islamist groups, even those that threaten terrorism across Europe. Moslem extremists, supported by local warlords, operate from there as part of a wider Islamist movement.
“It all started with Chechnya's drive for independence that was not granted because of its instability and continued anarchy. Other political and geophysical reasons also contributed. This has led to suicide bombers committing many atrocities against Russian cities, including hostage taking. Continued conflict will never resolve the situation.
“Alexis tells me that, through his role with Michel Dumas, he has connections amongst Islamic fundamentalists. He is respected and trusted. They have a far-reaching plan to resolve many issues. That is all I know.”
“Who has a plan…Dumas?” Petra asked, baffled by her inadequate explanation.
“Alexis and some high profile Moslem leaders.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“They are fascinated by his personal history and appreciate his profound understanding of their problems. They believe that together they can prosecute their cause.”
“But, Katherine, their cause is terrorism, the murder of innocent men, women and children, irrespective of race, colour or creed. They just want to de-stabilise western democracies. Surely Alexis cannot condone such atrocities and misplaced ideologies?”
“Is it not a case of ‘let him cast the first stone’? Throughout time, humanity has violated and killed in pursuit of just causes. In Russia, the Tsarist rulers subjugated the population as slaves. Everyone believed that the revolution would promote a more equitable society, changing our lives forever. However, communism relied on fear, terror and genocide to maintain its grip on one of the most powerful nations in the world. It failed and the struggle continues. What if a state was governed by a political system that understood, tolerated and even celebrated opposing cultures, religions and ideologies in the pursuit of peaceful objectives?”
“You're talking utopia.” Petra ran her forefinger pensively around the rim of her beaker. “Human nature, being what it is, determines that an ideal world is a fantasy, an unattainable dream.” She sipped some tea. “Is this vision a product of Alexis's wild imagination or another one of your inconceivable concoctions?”
“It's his dream.” Katherine smiled, benignly. “He sees the creation of an all-encompassing union to be the panacea to Russia's ceaseless turmoil. He wishes to see the state bury past differences, to work towards a fair, just and perfect political solution. To achieve that dream, he believes that, as the heir to an imperfect dynasty, he has the duty and the right to redress those historical inequalities.”
Petra shook her head in disbelief. “And to attain that goal, he believes that it is necessary to support extremists focussed on destroying all who oppose their ideology…misguided fundamentalists who excuse their actions by denouncing their opponents as crusading infidels.” She leaned back in her chair. “Now, I'm convinced that he's insane.”
“Mark my words, Petra. He'll prove you wrong before August, 2017.”
“He'll be banged up well before that for aiding and abetting terrorism along with all the other fanatics,” Petra said in despair.
Clearly, Katherine was as obsessed as her grandson. “Look at Mandela. Look at what he achieved.”
“That was different. Here, you're talking about a global movement, not an individual country…a movement, Katherine. One that knows no boundaries, that targets people indiscriminately, has no regard for humanity, no morals, no scruples. Even Alexis said that about Dumas. They're all tarred with the same brush. He's fallen in with some very evil people. It's a dangerous world out there and he's in a no-win situation. Just tell me where he is.”
Katherine stood, leaning on her cane. “Look at any map, Petra. You will see that Chechnya is a tiny country. Remember one small step…who knows what may be possible?”
Petra sighed. “Tell me, Katherine. Who is deluded in believing that Alexis could become the future Tsar of Russia? Is it you or Alexis?”
“I admit that there will be constitutional issues,” Katherine said, unruffled by Petra's remark. “However, in return for an era of lasting peace and prosperity, the Russian people will make allowances. They were prepared to bend the rules for Grand Duke Mikhail to replace his brother, Tsar Nicholas II. Nor have the Chechens forgotten that Mikhail, a Romanov, led a Chechen army against our enemies.”
Petra finished her tea. The old woman was beginning to frustrate her. I'll give her ten out of ten for entertainment, she thought, but zero for substance. No wonder Alexis is a Jekyll and Hide character. It must run in the family.
“Give him my regards, Katherine. I imagine that Interpol has a warrant for his arrest. I intended to put in a good word for him, but, if what you say is true, I'm afraid for his state of mind. Thank you for your hospitality and your truly fascinating tales. I simply believe that the world consists of good and evil. I used to bat for the other side, but I learned my lesson the hard way. I'm with the good guys now. Tell Alexis that it's not too late to change.” She stood to leave.
Katherine smiled. “Have a good journey, my dear. One day, Petra, one day you will return and fulfil your destiny.”
They kissed cheeks and bade each other farewell.
Petra turned at the doorway. “It's strange. Apart from your stories, I know so little about you and Alexis, yet it feels that I have known both of you all my life.”
Katherine placed her hand on Petra's shoulder. “To be exact, my dear, it has only been eight days.”
Petra was half way to her car, when the old woman's words sank in. “Oh my God, eight again,” she uttered.
8888
It was early that same Sunday evening when Petra decided to contact Rob. She was back in her apartment at Limoges. He answered immediately.
“Hi, how's it going? Are you still in Marseille?”
“Almost finished here,” Rob replied. “Dumas and his lawyers are in custody along with some of his retinue who require further investigation. Last night, we released most of the guests and the majority of the domestic staff. Forensics should be finished by the end of the day at which point we will be in a position to seal the house and the remainder of the property. The yacht and the helicopter will be impounded.”
“Any news of Alexis?”
“He seems to have vanished into thin air. We'll circulate his details. Don't worry…he'll turn up. Any joy with the grandmother?”
“She reckons that he'll have gone to Chechnya,” Petra said, half expecting him to laugh.
“Chechnya? Why bloody Chechnya?”
“According to her, he's well connected to some rebel leaders. Together, they're planning to save the world.”
Rob's amusement was now evident over the phone. “You certainly know how to pick them.”
“Tell me about it. I reckon she's rambling again,” Petra said with a hint of regret.
“Have you contacted Jean-Marie about handing back the car and the apartment?”
“Not yet. I need to discuss timings with him. I also must book my flight from Limoges to the U.K.”
“Okay, but ensure that you keep tomorrow free. There's the possibility of another meeting. Jean-Marie will keep you posted.”
“Why another meeting?”
“It's a final debrief.” Rob was determined to impart limited information.
“Have you had any update from the hospital on Massey's condition?” Petra felt that she should bear some responsibility for his injuries, even though it was Harcourt's error of judgement that had compounded the situation.
“They stated that he'll be discharged tomorrow or first thing Tuesday. He'll need further treatment and some additional physio on his return to Manchester.”
“When do you want me back in the agency?”
“Take a couple of days off at home. Come in on Friday. I may have another small assignment for you.”
Petra was hoping for at least a week. “Thanks, Rob. You're so kind. If it's abroad again, do me a favour and make sure it's in an English speaking country.”
“How's your Japanese?”
“You're joking.”
“I'm joking,” he said. “Hopefully, see you tomorrow.”
Rob rang off, leaving her wondering, not about the next assignment, but about how Alexis managed to evade the security blanket at the villa. She had also meant to ask about Bobo. Why was he a member of Dumas's staff? Where did he fit in? Was he unharmed and subsequently questioned? She decided to walk to Bar 1900 for a late drink before turning in. She was unaware that all her questions would be unexpectedly answered before she left Limoges. The eighth day was a prelude to the dénouement of a tangled web of deceit.
8888
The combination of a long day and several glasses of wine ensured a sound night's sleep. The following morning seemed to arrive soon after her head had touched the pillow. At least, her energy levels were back to normal. Petra emerged from the shower seconds before the intercom buzzer sounded.
Wrapped in just a towel, she crossed to the doorway and lifted the handset. “Hello,” she said, half expecting to hear the voice of Jean-Marie. Here am I undressed again, she thought.
“Hi, any chance of some breakfast?”
“Oh, my God,” she mouthed. It was the voice of Alexis. She pressed the lock release button and quickly slipped into a towelling bathrobe before opening the apartment door.
Alexis appeared, unshaven and looking tired. He smiled. “Sorry to disturb you so early, but I was hoping to catch you before you departed. I need to explain.”
“Too bloody true,” Petra snapped, showing her annoyance and, at the same time, masking her pleasure at seeing him alive. “How did you know that I would be here?”
“I spoke with grand'maman late last night.”
Petra was in a dilemma. Rob had said that they would be circulating his details. Now he's here, she thought, what the hell am I supposed to do with him? I can hardly detain him dressed in nothing but a bathrobe. Do I really want to arrest him?
She walked towards the bedroom door. “Can you help yourself to coffee, whilst I put on some clothes?”
Alexis grinned. “It never bothered you the last time that I was here.”
“Argh!” Petra's face turned crimson. “You may not have noticed but circumstances have changed. Which Alexis is here today?”
“Which Petra are you today?”
She ignored the riposte and turned away. Nevertheless, she continued to blush. “Give me a couple of minutes.”
She closed the bedroom door behind her, leaned back against it and ran her fingers through her damp hair. She needed to call Rob, but realised that her mobile phone was in the living room. Sod it, she thought, it's my apartment. Why should I be concerned about returning to pick up my mobile? She walked back to find Alexis in the kitchen.
“Would you like a coffee?” he asked nonchalantly.
“Why not?” Petra picked up her shoulder bag as well as the phone. “I forgot my make-up,” she added, wondering why she was making excuses. She entered the bedroom, closed the door and immediately contacted Rob to give him the news.
“I'll send some local detectives round to detain him,” Rob said. “Keep hold of him until they arrive…at gunpoint if you must.”
“I have no gun. All the weapons were left at the villa as part of the investigation.”
“Well, you'll just have to use your other line of defence…talk him into submission. I'm sure that you'll have a lot of news to occupy your time. Ask him about Chechnya. Good luck.” Rob rang off.
Petra detected a faint laugh as he ended the conversation. Now annoyed with Rob's apparent lack of concern, she dressed hurriedly in jeans and sweater, applied a token smidgen of make-up and returned to the living room. She sank casually onto a sofa.
“So, are you going to tell me how you managed to escape unnoticed from the villa? What did you do…kill a member of the task force and nick his uniform?”
“Nothing so dramatic.” Alexis placed two beakers of coffee on a low table. “Remember the secret cellar at Roche's place?”
“The house you destroyed, killing all those gendarmes?”
Alexis looked serious. “Roche was the culprit. I had no involvement whatsoever. That aside, his cellar was a rough, cheap version of an underground bunker at Dumas's villa. His son designed it. He's an architect. It's a sophisticated, self-contained, self-supporting reinforced shelter, totally separate from the main house. Two people could survive in there for several months. It possesses its own set of services, a communication centre and living quarters. The original plans for the property contain no reference to it. In other words, as far as the authorities are aware, it does not exist.”
“You're saying that you hid there?”
Alexis nodded. “Access is via a bookcase in the library, similar to the sliding wall unit at Roche's house. I took refuge there until everyone had left.”
“How did you know when the coast was clear and it was safe to leave?”
“There's a closed circuit surveillance system served by miniature cameras. Those are concealed on the existing ones that cover the main property and the exterior grounds. I watched the clearing operation from a bank of screens in the bunker.”
“Why didn't Dumas use it when he was cornered in the library?” she asked, not too convinced with his story.
“And reveal it to a group of strangers? Only his son, his daughter, Dimitri and I know its existence. When the teams had finally left the scene, I took one of his cars from the garages and drove through a rear gateway. It was after midnight, so I drove straight here.”
“Rob said that there were armed guards on duty,” Petra said, challenging his story.
“They must have been on a tea break,” he replied with a smirk.
“Your grandmother said that you would head for Chechnya. What's that all about?”
Alexis sipped his coffee. “I gather from your remark that she's been entertaining you with more Russian history?”
“She said that you sympathised with their cause and had visions of somehow bringing an end to the conflict. Is that true?”
“A resolution is needed without a revolution,” he replied. “For centuries, Chechnya has been subjected to external rule, first by the Tsars and then by the Soviets. Though Chechens are mainly Sunni Moslems, they collaborated with the Germans during the Second World War in the hope of gaining their independence after Germany had won. Of course, that never happened and Russia emerged victorious. Consequently, Stalin sent many of them to Siberia, the deportation resulting in radical nationalism against Russia. Over recent years, tensions have escalated, attracting many Islamist militants to their cause. The government often blames Chechens for terrorist bombs in Russian cities, even though there has been neither proof nor admittance.
“The situation needs to be resolved as Chechnya is becoming a breeding ground for rogue Islamist networks that threaten terror attacks in Europe. You believe that I and a few reactionaries can change all that?”
“I said that it was hard to believe, but she said that you were trusted because of your Romanov connections.”
“You still believe that?” he asked with the hint of a smile.
“Alexis, I don't know what to believe. Your gran can be very persuasive. She makes everything seem extremely credible by her in-depth knowledge of Russian history, especially when it comes to facts and figures.” Petra suddenly remembered the silver cigarette case containing the strands of hair. “Nowadays, there are scientific methods of verifying whether her story is true.”
At that moment, the buzzer sounded. Alexis sprang to his feet, suddenly produced a handgun and told Petra to answer, but to send away whoever had called. She walked over to the intercom as Alexis followed her closely. On reaching the door, she turned, looked beyond him towards the window and screamed.
Alexis was distracted momentarily. Petra kicked the gun from his hand and leaped upon him, pinning him to the floor. She reached out, grasped the gun and thrust it towards his head. The buzzer sounded once again.
“Don't move,” she said to the prostrate Alexis as she backed towards the doorway. She pressed the lock release and opened the door to the apartment.
Alexis raised himself onto his haunches and smiled. “Not bad for a trainee.”
Two men in jeans and leather jackets entered the room. They said bonjour to Petra, looked down at Alexis and grinned.
“C'est lui?” asked the shorter of the two.
“Oui, that's him,” Petra replied, reluctantly.
They cuffed Alexis and dragged him towards the open doorway.
“Sorry,” Petra said, as he passed. “I'm just following orders.”
“That's what they said at Nuremburg,” Alexis replied with a rueful smile.
She glared at him. “Murder is still murder whether it's one individual or six million.”
After they had left, she called Rob to update him. The number was engaged. She left a message and returned to the bedroom to finish drying her hair.
Her thoughts turned to Alexis. If it was true about Roche blowing up his own house, maybe he hadn't killed anyone. As far as she knew, he wasn't responsible for any casualties at the villa and if he had hidden in a secret bunker, he didn't have to shoot anyone to escape. Despite all the talk of his involvement with Dumas, none of it rang true. How could he be on friendly terms with terrorists? His profile just did not fit. Was he merely trying to impress her?
The past week seemed like a convoluted dream, especially Katherine's ramblings. Surely, they were unbelievable. If there was any truth in her tale, someone must have unearthed the facts before now. The ring tone of her mobile interrupted her reflections.
It was Jean-Marie. “Bonjour, Louise. Monsieur Smith, il veut que je vous amène à une réunion à onze heures ce matin. D'accord?”
“Fine.” Petra checked her watch. An eleven o'clock meeting. Two and a half hours to get ready, she thought. “Where is this meeting?”
“At a château, Domaine du Fan, a centre for meetings at Verneuil Moustiers. We take autoroute to sortie twenty-two, then to Saint-Sulpice-les-Feuilles and Lussac-les-Eglises. We must leave your apartment at ten.”
“Okay, see you at ten.” An hour less, she thought. That's cutting it fine. At least I've showered. I wonder what the meeting's about? I hope that it will provide some answers.
Jean-Marie had more to add. “Monsieur Smith, ‘e ask also that you take all your bags with you in my car. I think you leave to return ‘ome after the meeting.”
“Really?” Not so much time after all, she thought. Why the sudden rush? What should I do about booking a flight? I don't know when I'll be finished. Perhaps he has something else in mind…and what about Alexis and Katherine? I won't be able to say goodbye.
She tried to phone Rob for more information, but his mobile was not in service. She could do no more than follow Jean-Marie's instructions and hope that Rob had organised something.
8888
Set amongst rolling countryside, the Chateau Domaine du Fan stood in open parkland surrounded by several wooded areas. The location was a typical Limousin landscape. Numerous outbuildings were visible beyond the trees as Jean-Marie drove along a narrow track. It was a relatively unimpressive structure compared to the chateaux that Petra had visited several years previously on her school trip. They turned onto a gravel driveway leading to the main entrance and found a small parking area with sufficient space between other visitors’ vehicles.
On entering the hotel and conference centre, a pleasant multi-lingual Dutch woman greeted them. Jean-Marie introduced her as the proprietor. Inside the main lobby, a curved staircase of marble steps surmounted by an intricate balustrade of wrought iron wound upwards to the guest accommodation. They followed her echoing footsteps across a tiled floor into a spacious dining area. Floor-to-ceiling arched windows overlooked an outdoor terrace and expansive lawns.
“Your colleagues are taking aperitifs on the terrace,” she said in perfect English as she led them through glazed patio doors. Outside, stood a small group of individuals, chatting and sipping Champagne. Petra stopped abruptly. The hairs on her neck stood on end; a shiver ran down her spine. She was speechless. Her mind was racing, her head in a whirl.
The group consisted of men, immaculately dressed in suits. They turned in unison as she stepped through the doorway, placed their aperitifs on adjacent tables and applauded.
Jean-Marie touched her arm. “They explain. It is big surprise for you, n'est-ce pas?”
She recognised most of the faces…some with difficulty. Their dress and their unexpected presence confused her. Besides Rob, there was Alexis, the two detectives who had arrested him that very morning, the security guard Tom Cathcart, Capitaine Thoury the chief of the Marseille police, Capitaine Lafarge from Limoges, three others whose faces she recognised and most surprisingly, Bobo…in a suit.
Rob came across, passed her a glass of bubbly and proposed a toast. “To Petra Rebovka who performed her role as Louise Charrière to the highest professional standards…well, almost.” Everyone raised their glasses.
Tears welled in Petra's eyes. “I don't understand,” she whispered. “What's going on?”
“Join us at the tables,” Rob replied. “Welcome back to reality.”
The group gathered round, ensuring that Petra took centre stage. She was unable to take her eyes off Alexis. Several hours previously, he had looked tired and drawn, had acted like a fugitive on the run and was arrested as such. Now he faced her, immaculately dressed in a suit, shirt and tie, similar to the trainee accountant Alexis, who had wined and dined her the previous week.
She leaned over and touched Rob's hand. “It was an exercise…a total fabrication?” she asked.
“Not entirely. The mission was for real. It was the culmination of months of surveillance and analysis of intel data. I'll give you the background and the others can fill in the gaps by describing their involvement, especially where it concerned you. Your initial objective was quite clear; infiltrate the football club, gather intel and leave. Because it was your first mission, we decided to add the odd safeguard. Jean-Marie was one such example, an associate whose subsidiary role as your minder seemed adequate and appropriate for your specific goal.”
“I ‘ave suspicion,” added Jean-Marie, “that Roche send boys with false documents, but there is no proof. You come with good chance to find proof if you find friend in football club to ‘elp you.”
“We had Alexis as a contact,” Rob explained, “so we asked him to make himself known to you. In addition to his covert role, he was able to provide back up for Jean-Marie with regard to your surveillance. In his case, there was the added advantage of him speaking your language.”
“So why not ask Alexis for the inside info on Roche?” Petra asked. “You didn't really need me.”
“We had already tried that route,” Rob replied. “He was unable to find anything incriminating with regard to this specific investigation. It was thought that, through him, you could acquaint yourself with Roche and his clique to discover relevant information that was inaccessible to others.”
Alexis joined the conversation. “Previously, I had merely found some evidence of drug dealing…nothing more. This current situation focussed on the immediate concern about the possible trafficking of suicide bombers. I was unable to find anything linking Roche to the operation. Fortunately, you discovered the secret cellar, something that had escaped our notice and came as a complete surprise to me. The contents of his desk and the tape that you lifted were sufficient to issue a warrant for his arrest, if we decided to take that option. Rather than charging him, we were toying with the idea of allowing him to warn Dumas, which he did…eventually.”
“So, is that why he was released from custody after they had interrogated him at the gendarmerie?”
“At that time, there was insufficient evidence to convince an investigative judge, anyway. We held him merely on suspicion before our visit to his house, as we only had the false I.D. cards. If you remember, the cellar was located at the time of his release. You also held onto the tapes and withheld info regarding the cellar. By the time that you returned with Jean-Marie, he had made a run for it. You know the outcome. You were there.”
“But I don't understand your involvement with Michel Dumas if you were gunning for Roche, an ex-criminal who was part of the same set-up.” Petra was becoming annoyed with Alexis for duping her. “Are you saying that Dumas was also a fictional character in this contrived game of ‘let's take the piss out of Petra’?”
Rob interrupted. “Alexis, at this point, I think that you should explain the background to your story.”
“There was a game plan,” Alexis said, “but it became fluid, partly because of the events in Manchester and partly because of how your arrival affected the situation. We had to make tactical changes on a regular basis, sometimes hourly.
“I became involved with Dumas about twelve months ago. It happened just as I explained to you in the log cabin. Roche had told him that I was a whiz on computers and worked in accountancy. He offered me a role as an I.T. and accountancy advisor. He asked me to set up companies with off-shore accounts, a facility that eventually I realised was a dodgy method of concealing the income from his illicit deals. He paid me good money, together with generous expenses, always in cash. How do you think that I afforded grand'maman’s new kitchen?
“When I told her how I had financed it, she persuaded me to speak to the authorities. After they heard my story, they recruited me as an informant on the inside. I was to continue my role. Because of my connections with the football club, the security service suggested that I make contact with you, the eventual outcome being to expose the alleged trafficking through Limoges. It was going to plan. After discovering the cellar, we were in a position to produce some concrete evidence. Your role was almost at an end. Unfortunately, Roche put a spanner in the works by attacking you. My priority following that incident was to get you medical assistance and remove Roche from the scene. Don't forget, he believed that he and I were on the same side. I still had to maintain that guise.”
“But why did he threaten you with a knife?”
“That was just a ploy to disarm and overpower you.”
“So, you helped him to escape and disappear?” Petra asked. “What was the point? You had him where you wanted him.”
Rob intervened. “Roche was not our number one priority. We needed to follow the trail to Dumas. To arrest Roche for his involvement in trafficking at that point would have set alarm bells ringing in Marseille. We instructed Alexis to contact Dimitri to deal with Roche who was already on borrowed time with Dumas.”
“Unfortunately,” Alexis added, “we were unaware of the explosive charges at his house. He must have activated them after leaving Limoges.”
Petra remained confused over her participation. “I still don't understand why you couldn't have achieved all this without me.”
Rob intervened once more. “I must take responsibility for that. Knowing your previous history, I was quite prepared to allow you take the initiative as you saw fit, to let you run almost as an independent undercover agent. There was every chance that you may, as you did, uncover some aspect that we had missed or had overlooked. Don't forget there were still minders looking out for you. In any case, I knew that you had the moral fibre to kill, if necessary. Reflect on it, Petra. Apart from our people, no-one suspected you until the occasion presented itself to show your hand, as when faced by Roche and later by Dumas.”
Petra looked across at Alexis. “So, was Katherine party to what was going on?”
“Grand'maman is grand'maman.” Alexis smiled. “She knew nothing about you, apart from what you told her.”
“What about her story? Is that also a load of fiction?”
“Oh, she believes passionately in her family history. Who knows how much truth there is in her reminiscences? What is certain is that she enjoyed your company. Let's face it, we all found you to be an extremely personable, charming and attractive young lady.”
Petra's thoughts suddenly conjured up their night together in her apartment. “You bastard…you took advantage of me.”
Rob coughed. “Moving on. Tom, could you briefly explain your role in all this?”
“Just a moment,” Petra said, still mad with Alexis. “Why didn't you tell me about your true role when we were in the sauna?”
“Think about it,” said Alexis. “The plan fell apart in the library. Dumas should have been marched off by the security forces but, because of D.C.I. Harcourt's lapse in concentration, the re-emergence of the guards changed everything.”
“You took our guns,” Petra exclaimed. “Why didn't you use them to threaten Dumas and the guards?”
“We could have ended up in a gun battle, with innocent people dead. It was too unpredictable, apart from the fact that I knew nothing about guns. I decided to await a suitable opportunity, which, as you know, presented itself later. Rob advised me to disappear afterwards. He said that he would deal with you.”
Petra scowled in Rob's direction. “You told him to hide in that secret room?”
“Secret room?” Rob asked, puzzled.
“There was no room,” Alexis admitted. “I invented that story to cover my immediate disappearance.”
“Bastard,” Petra said, glaring at Alexis. “Do you ever tell the truth?”
Tom Cathcart leaned forward to relieve the tension. “My background is S.A.S., followed by an attachment to Special Forces in Canada. Some mercenary experience followed before opting for a quieter lifestyle. Dumas recruited me through an agency for security staff. Obviously, he would have researched my background, but probably thought that my mercenary activities placed me in that category of individuals where money, not moral or political issues was the motivation.”
“What was missing from his C.V.,” Rob added, “was the fact that he was already involved in undercover work with Interpol.”
“Dumas was never aware of my real status,” Cathcart said. “Alexis and I were in a position to report back every key move by Dumas. Other intel helped to fill in the gaps.”
Rob explained in more detail. “The investigation was open-ended. We were still gathering info, when the Manchester incidents brought about a new urgency. The proposed meeting between Dumas and some top Al Qaeda associates, using his daughter's engagement party as cover, provided a realistic opportunity for prompt action. You were caught up in the thick of it, partly by Alexis and of course, by the irresponsible interference of the two Manchester detectives.”
Petra was not happy. “I see…at least, I think that I see. I was merely an actor in your well-rehearsed play, who was expected to ad-lib her way through without any bloody script.”
Alexis laughed. “If we use that analogy, our scripts were discarded as soon as you arrived on the scene. It was our turn to ad-lib after that.”
Petra looked at another smiling face opposite. “You are Bobo, aren't you? I didn't recognise you in a suit.” She turned to Rob. “He's just a youngster.”
Rob shook his head. “I'd like to introduce you to Louis Batiste Sylvestre, one of our youngest field operatives, now twenty two years old. However, in shorts and tee shirt, unwashed and constantly smiling, he could pass for a fifteen year old street urchin.”
Bobo grinned at her. “I was asked to keep an eye on you at the villa. Man, you're some cool cookie. I think that you can look after yourself pretty well without my help. I was impressed by your smart move with the guns.”
“Yes, you bastard,” Petra said. “You made me work hard for that. Why didn't you just hand them over?”
“I was asked to push you to the limit. I was just about to pass them to you, when you came up with the ruse of the spare parts assembly…most ingenious.”
“And you speak perfect English…damn you.” She shook her head in mock disgust. “How did you happen to work for Dumas?”
“I've lived in Marseille since I came over with my parents on a boat from Morocco. As a kid, I was always in trouble with the law, but found favour with the local gendarmerie when I started giving them tit-bits of info from the street. I became what you call a snitch or a snout. I was careful what I passed on. They thought it was good info, but they could have found it themselves if they hadn't been so lazy.
“One day, a few of us hung about kicking around a football near Dumas's villa. We often spent time messing in that area where the rich people live. They think they're safe out there away from the centre. Some of the security guards were okay with us and would occasionally give us drinks. We also gathered info for some of the gangs in town. They knew that there were rich pickings in those affluent areas.
“Well, as I said, we were playing footie and the ball went over the wall. I asked a guard if I could have my ball back. He took the piss and pushed me through the gate, expecting the dogs to have me, but they never came. I found the ball and, as I was coming out of the bushes, Dumas appeared with a bloody Doberman on a leash. I almost shit myself. Fortunately, he was okay with me, liked my nerve, my brashness and told me to come back the next day, as he might have some work for me. I obviously looked in need.
“To cut a long story, he offered me a job as a pool cleaner. He said the previous guy had died. I found out later that he had drowned…in the bloody pool. Imagine it…a pool cleaner drowning in his own pool! They reckoned that he had messed up and Dumas had lost his temper. Anyway, Tom had made some enquiries about me. He found out that I had been a police informant. He promised to keep it quiet, if I could pass info to him.”
“But when did you join the security services team?” Petra asked.
Bobo grinned. “When I found out that your lot paid much more than Dumas.”
Petra smiled. “Well, you certainly fooled me. However, thanks for your care and protection, especially the return of the mini gun. That was a smart move.” She turned to Rob. “Were Harcourt and Massey party to this charade?”
“Not at all…just the opposite. They became an unwelcome hindrance. We were concerned that they might inadvertently drop us in the proverbial shit with some seemingly innocent remark. This became especially disconcerting on discovering that Dumas had entertained them at the Vélodrome and invited them to the villa. Luckily, they included you in their brainless escapade. Having since read the de-briefs, the only major blip occurred when Harcourt switched off momentarily in the library.”
“I should have talked them out of going to Marseille,” Petra admitted, “but, at the time, I thought it would ease my situation in Limoges, if they were out of the way.”
“I was furious when I found out,” Rob said, “but in retrospect, their presence wasn't a serious problem. The fact that two English detectives turned up wanting to meet Dumas caused Capitaine Thoury to assume that they were part of the overall plan. His appointment had been recent. It presented an opportunity to have a fresh start. We instructed him to continue turning a blind eye to Dumas's criminal activity like his predecessor. We needed to lull Dumas into a false sense of security.”
Thoury nodded in agreement. “It is good for me also. Monsieur Dumas, he give me good wine and best seats at the Vélodrome. I am also guest on his yacht. Why not, I ask myself. Soon he will be prisoner.”
They all laughed, the French as confirmation of his logic, the English believing that only the French could hold and admit to that opinion. In England, one may think ‘why not’, but would be reticent to acknowledge such sentiments publicly.
Whilst they finished their aperitifs, Rob took Petra to one side where he attempted to put the whole affair in its true perspective. He explained that the charade, as she had described it, had been limited originally to her time in Limoges. He reprimanded her for her decision to relocate to Marseille without any discussion or authorisation. Not only could her actions have placed her own life in danger, but also the lives of other team members. He admitted that he had chosen to continue the deception only to avoid compromising the covert operation already in progress. As Alexis had explained, he and others had responded as events unfolded. He also criticised Massey and Harcourt for their stupidity and rash behaviour, as their initial brief was merely to make associated enquiries in Limoges.
His remarks embarrassed and upset Petra, but before her emotions could turn to anger and resentment, he praised her for her subsequent actions with regard to the raid at the villa. She smiled and appeared grateful for his feedback. Deep inside, she seethed. She reserved most of her anger for Alexis and his blatant lies. A part of her wanted to leave, to run and hide from everyone, to lick her wounds in private. However, her confrontational nature was characteristically more dominant. She would front it out in a bid to remain in control, despite her intense feelings of humiliation. Throughout her life, she had risen to the challenges of adversity. This was not the time for weakness.
They rejoined the group and took their places for lunch in the dining room. The meal consisted of Le homard poché à l'embeurrée de truffes, lobster poached in buttered truffles. A white wine, Gaillac les Greilles, from the Garonne region of South West France, complemented the dish. The main course consisted of a choice of Le filet de boeuf en croûte sauce Périgueux, a tender fillet of beef, wrapped in pastry with Périgeux sauce or L’épaule d'agneau à la cuillère réduit liquoreux, sweetened shoulder of lamb, washed down with Château Peyros Madiran, a well-balanced fruity wine from Gascony. A fruit sorbet followed a selection of cheeses before the inevitable café et digestifs.
Following the meal, Rob drew Petra to one side again. “I'm sorry if I upset you earlier. I know that you take everything to heart but accept this scenario as an invaluable experience. Don't be too hard on yourself. You performed extremely well in a successful operation.”
He walked her to the far side of the terrace, well away from the remainder of the group. “This is highly confidential and must go no further, but I think that you should know a little about the result of your actions. From intel so far, we have learned that the man that we lost in St. Petersburg was from Yemen.”
“Is that significant?”
“There is an Al Qaeda franchise in Yemen that is growing in numbers and becoming more dangerous by the day. The man in question is quite young; he is already a key player in a new generation of Al Qaeda specialists. After leaving Russia, he travelled to Dubai before stopping off at Beirut on his way to Marseille.”
“He was at the villa?”
Rob smiled. “That's the other good news. He's currently taking a trip on a U.S. submarine. So, again…well done.”
“Thank you.” Petra felt guilty over her earlier rather petulant attitude.
Rob placed his arm round her shoulder to give her an affectionate cuddle. “Have you booked your flight from Limoges yet?”
“Not yet. I thought that I should await the outcome of this sudden meeting. I tried calling you after Jean-Marie contacted me this morning. I had about an hour to pack. Why the big rush?”
“Sorry. It was all last minute. I'd like you to do me a favour. I'm returning to Lyon later…unfinished business. I need you to come with me. I have booked you on my flight from Limoges. Jean-Marie will drop us off at the airport.”
“What's the favour?” Petra was somewhat suspicious after all the earlier revelations.
“Oh, yes,” Rob seemed hesitant. “It's about Massey. He's being discharged from hospital today and will be arriving at Lyon's Saint Exupery airport later to pick up a direct flight to the U.K. It would be helpful if you could accompany him, to see him safely home, as it were.”
“Me?” Petra exclaimed. “Me, nursemaid to Massey? You must be bloody joking!”
“Just be cordial with him for a change.”
“I don't do cordial, especially where he's concerned.”
Rob smiled, placing his arm around her shoulders again. “A little bird told me that you showed great concern for him when he was shot and in desperate need of attention. You actually bullied the enemy to assist him and send for medics.”
This time, Petra shrugged him off. “That was different. We were fighting alongside each other.”
“So, you'll do it then?”
“I don't suppose I have a choice. Is that an order?”
“That's an order.”
She shook her head in affected confusion. “I must be going soft in the head.”
“So long as you retain your steely resolve when it matters, you'll be fine. Accept this assignment as maturing into the role.”
She grimaced at him. “Patronising I don't need. I'm me and always will be me.”
8888
Petra met up with Massey later at Saint Exupery, where they boarded the 19.25 hrs British Airways flight to London Heathrow. They enjoyed an amicable journey, despite their previous tensions. Eventually, the conversation drifted towards the events of the previous week. Petra also related the gist of the stories that Katherine had disclosed about the family's history.
Massey showed great interest and encouraged her to continue her attempts to verify what he described as a most incredulous claim. Petra showed him the cigarette case containing the lock of hair and told him about the plastic bag with the head of the bloodstained razor that was in her suitcase.
“Do you reckon that they could check his D.N.A. with these items?” she asked.
“I see no reason why not. You should send them for forensic analysis. As you explained, they would have to be checked against the results from the tests on the exhumed remains of the Romanov family. I believe some of the tests were carried out in the U.K.”
“You're into that kind of research. Could you not help?”
She had touched the spot. When dealing with criminal investigations, Massey had fashioned his career on analysing clinical forensic detail as opposed to psychological profiling and other new practices. To research something as dramatic as this appealed to his ego, irrespective of it being simply the ramblings of an old woman. Additionally, it would occupy his time during an imposed period of recuperation. He readily accepted the challenge.
The flight seemed shorter than the expected one and a half hours, probably due to the interesting topics that they had discussed. As Massey had arranged for someone called Caroline to meet him, Petra took the Heathrow express into Paddington, from where she made her way home.
She was renting a flat in Notting Hill, an area not far distant from the main-line station. She took a cab and phoned Klara as soon as she had settled in. Her sister was amazed that she had enlisted Massey's help and even more so that he had accepted. Petra promised to call as soon as she had news.
An hour after her conversation with Klara, her mobile rang. The caller was Rob; his tone was serious. “Petra, reports are coming in that one of the suicide bombers has shown his hand. There's been an explosion in Liverpool. Information is sketchy, but it appears that he blew himself up prematurely whilst parking his vehicle.”
Petra was stunned. “What about casualties?”
“There have been some, but, according to the latest communiqué, not many. It appears that the Goodison Park stadium was probably the target, as Everton were playing a Monday night game. The device detonated alongside Stanley Park, an area where supporters’ cars and coaches park up before the match. For some reason, the bomber arrived late, possibly not aware of the traffic chaos that precedes matches. Most spectators had left the area and an empty coach appears to have taken the brunt of the explosion. That's the only info currently available. You'll probably learn more, if you switch on your TV.”
“Bloody hell! You reckon that he was on his way to the stadium?”
“I would imagine that would have been his target, not a deserted park area. Obviously, the threat level has risen from severe to critical and the search for the remaining suspects will intensify. I'm returning to London first thing tomorrow. Meet me in the office at ten. Sleep well, Petra…there are busy times ahead.”
Petra switched on the TV; the coverage was on all the news channels. She followed the story for a short time until her eyes capitulated to her sleep deprivation of the past few days. Exhausted from the energy-sapping journey, she was thinking about bed when her mobile rang again just before eleven.
It was Alexis. “Hi Petra, are you home safe and sound?”
“Shattered and ready for bed. Can I call you in the morning?”
“When are you coming back to see me? I still have two tickets for Status Quo.”
Petra was stunned momentarily. “I've only just left. Take Katherine. I'm sure she'd be up for some rock and roll with you.”
“I'm missing you already. If you cannot make it over here, how about if I come over to see you?”
My God, thought Petra, he's serious. I thought it was just a one-night stand. I can't cope with this…he's mad.
“Can we talk about it tomorrow? I feel as though I'm still travelling. I need some sleep…please?”
Alexis laughed. “Okay, you win, but if you haven't called by nine, I'll be calling you.”
“Nine, my time…ten in France. It's a deal.”
She switched off her mobile, lay on the bed and fell asleep still fully clothed.
8888
D.C.I. Massey watched as a gentle mist enshrouded the distant undulations of the Western Fells beyond Wast Water. He had made his previous climb to the 900 metres summit of Great Gable shortly after the sudden death of D.S. Turner, his colleague and brother-in-law. Crouched on the rocky outcrop, he leaned back below the plaque dedicated to those fallen in the Great War. This was his isolated spot, his internet-free chat room, his direct link to his departed friend. Here, he could be at peace and muster his intimate thoughts.
He contemplated the recent events. The failed suicide bomber's attempt to cause carnage and mayhem in Liverpool had sparked a series of maximum-security measures across the country. Within days of the raid at Bouches-du-Rhône in France, intelligence had yielded addresses in Luton, Leeds, Manchester, Leicester and Birmingham. Domestic counter-terrorism had placed each suspect premises under surveillance. Further leads obtained from interviews with Dumas and his close associates, had led to raids on numerous targeted hotspots, uncovering several safe houses and arresting many suspects.
As a result, a combined operation involving counter-terrorism units, armed response officers and Special Forces teams had arrested twenty-seven suspects. Of those detained, eight had links with Limoges. During the raids, one team in the Midlands had discovered a house where one room was adapted into a workshop to produce suicide vests. Because of the exhaustive series of operations, no further attacks had taken place across the U.K.
Subsequent interrogation of those individuals extracted by the SEALs during the villa assault in Marseille revealed a complex global plot. The combined efforts of security forces and counter-terrorism units around the world prevented any potential carnage. However, government agencies were astutely aware that their successes were merely a temporary reprieve. No one could predict what the future held in an era challenged by new and unprecedented threats to national security.
Massey reflected on the day that he had arrived back in the North West following his time with the Met in London. If the van driver had not stopped on the Glossop road, the young Frenchman would have been incinerated along with the driver in the car that had skidded down the embankment. The accident investigators may never have discovered his bogus identity and his origins. Nor would they have established his connection to the murder victim in Moss Side, Manchester. The ensuing chain of events may not have happened and the planned attacks could have massacred thousands.
There is such a fine line, he thought, between survival and mortality. Was it fate that placed me in the Beacon at that specific moment? It's ironic that a suicide bomber had killed Chris, an event that changed my life. Perhaps by returning to my roots, there was the opportunity to be involved in preventing mass carnage by other suicide bombers. Maybe his tragic death had a purpose; it was not in vain, after all.
The mist was unfurling in a northeasterly direction. Massey was beginning the process of closure. His moment of contemplation had passed. The walk in the fells had refreshed him mentally and physically. It was time to head down towards Seathwaite before the approaching damp shroud obliterated the well-worn track back to civilisation.