He had to hand it to the wonderful David: the man could talk. De Payns watched him on the stage and found himself laughing at the man’s jokes.
A senior economist from the IMF took to the podium next and spoke about doing ‘more’, before introducing Tony Blair and inviting him to speak.
De Payns wondered at some of the blue-sky claims for renewable energy that were thrown around the room, and whether anyone was going to make a speech about the security risk of allowing Russia to control most of the gas into Europe. With coal-fired power being eliminated, national power grids needed gas to smooth out the volatility of wind and solar, and where were these countries going to get it if Russia cut them off? De Payns was fascinated by the certainty of the people in Romy’s world; for them, there wasn’t a sliver of doubt that solar panels and EVs were the future, yet there seemed to be no strategy for the alternatives if gas pipelines from Libya, the Middle East and Transcaucasia were controlled by Putin and his proxies. That work took place in SCIFs across Europe, the intelligence folks trying to plug gaps in the policy solutions.
‘You okay?’ Romy asked him. He nodded, taking in her glamour. She combined brains and looks, and he understood why David might be showing too much interest. Didn’t forgive him, but certainly understood.
He glanced at his watch: 7.58 p.m. He excused himself, giving Romy’s hand a quick squeeze as he kissed her cheek and walked to the toilets of the vast main hall of the Palais des Congrès. He’d been in the Palais once before, during a training exercise run by the Company, but it was more impressive when filled with a thousand drinking, talking people.
He headed down a service hallway and used a blank key on the security door at the end of the hall. Jamming his foot in the door to stop it slamming, he found two men standing behind a trade van, dressed in black, their balaclavas pushed up their faces.
‘Like the shirt, mon pote,’ said Templar, the taller of the two men.
‘You trying out to be a gendarme?’ asked Danny, feigning concern. ‘Or you got a job on The Love Boat?’
‘Shut it,’ said de Payns. ‘Starkand is a smoker. Tony Blair will speak for ten minutes, then we eat, and I’m going to get him outside for a smoke around nine. There’s a smokers’ terrace on the ground floor, facing west. It has vehicle access.’
Templar handed de Payns a radio set. He strapped the battery transmitter to his ankle, pulled the wire up to his pocket, and slipped the tiny earpiece into his pocket, where it would stay until he activated the system. ‘Stand by—it might be earlier or later than nine.’
De Payns returned to the dinner and took his seat, clapping hard when Tony Blair told the conference, It’s up to us, without clarifying who was the ‘us’ or what was the ‘it’.
The waiters started moving around with food. The lights came up and de Payns made pleasant small talk with a Big Four accounting firm consultant, who assured him that there were trillions of dollars on offer from renewables. ‘It’s not an energy transition,’ the consultant said, as if he knew where the pirate’s treasure was buried. ‘It’s a wealth transfer.’
De Payns nodded politely, his grasp of money ending at around the two billion mark. He kept his eye on Henry Krause—Starkand—who was at the next table and was indeed seated beside Bill Gates. He accepted a top-up of wine, but barely touched it. A second course was served—seared salmon with a sauce—and when the accountant moved away, the too-perfect David dropped himself into the vacated chair and held out his hand.
‘David. I work with Romy,’ he said, friendly and confident.
‘Alec. I live with Romy,’ and David laughed as de Payns shook his hand.
‘Oh, I know,’ said David, running a hand through his Hugh Grant mop of hair. ‘You turned up as galante compagnie. It has been noted.’
De Payns relaxed slightly. Some French men honoured the man by complimenting the wife. ‘Clearly, she is out of my league and also too intelligent.’
‘She is a special person,’ agreed David, ‘and so smart. She is unravelling some of the social costs of the transition. It’s complex stuff and we’re lucky to have her.’
‘I’m glad you enjoy her company,’ said de Payns, smiling with an edge.
‘It’s more than her company,’ said David, reaching for the accountant’s uneaten bread. ‘Her work has caught the attention of the OECD. It’s good news for all of us.’
De Payns decided to let his irritation with David slide a little and he took a sip of the above-average wine. ‘So, Romy tells me you’re a racer?’
‘Ha!’ the man said, slapping his leg. ‘If I could keep the car on the track, you could call me a racer. I spend too much time in the kitty litter, I’m afraid.’
If not for the man having taken his wife to dinner, de Payns might have liked him. ‘Tell me, she talks a lot about David and Henry. Who does what?’
‘I’m the director,’ said David, touching his chest modestly. ‘I allocate the priorities and ensure the research programs are doing what they’re supposed to do.’
‘And Henry?’
‘He’s our energy director, but he’s also a roving ambassador,’ said David. ‘He’s well connected with governments, big pharma and the oil and gas industry. He got Bill Gates here tonight—he’s that kind of operator.’
‘Fascinating,’ said de Payns.
‘Let’s go meet him,’ said David, standing and moving towards the adjacent table before de Payns could respond.
De Payns followed and found himself being introduced to Henry Krause.
‘Well,’ said Krause, standing and offering a short bow and a handshake. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you, Monsieur de Payns, and all of it good.’
De Payns detected a Germanic harshness to the man’s French. ‘Likewise, Herr Krause,’ said de Payns. ‘A pleasure.’
‘Alec is at the Defence Ministry,’ said David. ‘Have I got that right?’
‘Yes, the logistics side,’ said de Payns.
‘Oh, of course,’ said Krause with a smile. ‘It takes an army of managers to keep one Mirage in the sky.’
‘That’s my line,’ said de Payns, and they all laughed. ‘My wife told me you were a smoker; is there a place we can have a smoke? I’ve been dying for one since the speeches started.’
‘You read my mind, Alec,’ said Krause.
‘I’ll join you,’ said David, to de Payns’ annoyance.
‘Over here,’ said Krause, leading the group to a side terrace.
De Payns inserted the micro earpiece in his right ear and keyed the radio with the button in his pocket as they moved through the crowd. ‘From Aguilar—alert, alert,’ he murmured. ‘I have the target plus a witness. We are moving out. Proceed as planned. I’ll look after the witness.’
‘Templar copy.’
He followed David and Henry down a flight of stairs and through two large glass doors to a street-level enclosure. An Italian man was standing too close to an attractive woman who had personal space issues. The Italian took one look at the band of males invading the smokers’ area and ushered the woman back inside.
De Payns accepted a smoke from David and wished he’d brought a coat with him as he caught a puff of chill wind from the north.
‘Brisk,’ said Krause, putting a cigarette between his teeth and lifting his lighter to the other men’s smokes. ‘Every time they say it’s a mild winter, I say wait for February, and then tell me …’
The black hood was slipped over his head in one smooth motion and then black-clad arms were around his neck and under his arms and another masked man dressed in black was lifting Herr Krause by the legs and ankles. Before anyone could utter a sound, Henry Krause was being carried like a roll of carpet to a van that had pulled up.
‘Hey!’ said David, as Henry Krause was bundled into the side door of the van, and the vehicle accelerated into the night. ‘What … what was that?’
David turned to de Payns, his mouth gaping. ‘Did you see that, Alec? What the hell just happened?’
‘Perhaps he pissed someone off?’ de Payns suggested mildly. ‘There are a lot of jealous husbands around.’