Adrian Magson - Deception

‘They do a job we don’t want to,’ said Deakin defensively. It had been his decision to take on the two Bosnians and he disliked any criticism of their methods. ‘They’re not sophisticated but they’re good at what they do.’

Turpowicz shook his head, recognizing the futility of arguing, and walked over to a coffee table in one corner of the foyer, where they had been sitting waiting for their meeting. He turned the open laptop to face him, calling up the photo from the Continentale in Scheveningen, and stared at the picture as if trying to read beneath the face. ‘This guy’s smart; he moves quick and he asks all the right questions.’ He looked at Deakin. ‘Why do I find the hairs lifting on the back of my neck, Deak? Who the fuck is he and what are we going to do about him?’

Deakin shook his head. ‘I don’t know yet. Let me think about it.’ He sat down and took out his phone, and dialled a number. He checked in case anyone was close, but the hotel was quiet and nobody was paying any attention save for a slim Chinese man in a neat suit, standing by the reception desk. They had marked him down as a security man the moment they arrived. ‘Petersen? Are you still in that place. . what’s it — Schwedt? Right. Stay put. I don’t care how you do it, but I want the name of the man you’ve been tailing. Drop some money on the local cops if you have to.’ He switched off the phone and looked at Turpowicz. ‘Good enough for you? We’ll find him and deal with him.’ His face was bleak.

Turpowicz grunted and checked his watch. ‘Where’s Paulton got to? I thought he was supposed to be in on this with us, putting up some front.’ It was a reminder that they had agreed on a united display to show the Protectory’s substance, something the Chinese were in favour of when negotiating.

Deakin waved a hand. ‘He’s busy on something else; sent a text to say go ahead without him. Anyway, once the monkey we’re seeing hears what we have for him, I don’t think he’ll care about how many we are. He’ll just want results.’

‘If you say so. Better not let him hear you call him a monkey, though. They can be a bit touchy about body image.’

But Deakin was ignoring him, his mind already on something else. Seconds later he was on his phone again, talking to Nicholls. ‘Did you get the photo I sent you?’

‘Yes. Is there a problem?’ Nicholls sounded cool.

‘There could be.’ He brought Nicholls up to date on the discovery of Barrow’s body. ‘Whoever this bozo is, he’s getting too close.’

‘I agree. But what do we do about it? Or are you planning on setting your tame bouncers on him?’ Nicholls had no more love for the Bosnians, Zubac and Ganic, than Turpowicz, an opinion he had never bothered to conceal.

‘Forget them. You need to contact our man in the MOD. Send him the photo and see if the face comes up on the official files. If he’s an investigator, he’ll be on record somewhere.’

‘All right. But it’s risky. He might get jumpy if he thinks we’re after one of their own.’

‘Tough shit.’ Deakin’s tone turned savage. ‘He gets enough easy money out of us for supplying names and numbers; now let him earn it. I want to know who this tricky bastard is!’ He shut off the phone again just as a uniformed under-manager came gliding across the floor and gave a hint of a bow. In the background, the Chinese security man stood waiting, hands crossed in front of him.

‘Gentlemen? Mr Wien Lu Chi will see you now. Follow me?’

Deakin nodded and picked up the laptop. As he turned to follow the under-manager, Turpowicz grabbed his arm, and said softly, ‘You didn’t really answer me, Deak. You said you’d deal with this investigator. What does that mean exactly?’

Deakin brushed off the American’s hand. ‘Simple. He’s a threat. I’m going to stop him. Permanently.’

‘You are free to leave, Mr Tate. . Herr Hefflin.’ Drachmann handed both men their documents. He didn’t look pleased. They had been in the local station for over three hours, providing detailed statements along with answering a list of supplementary questions. It had all been very low-key, but there had been no mistaking the intensity behind the queries. ‘If it were my choice,’ he continued bluntly, ‘I would have you stay in Schwedt until we had completed our investigation. But I have my instructions from the Bundesministerium — the Ministry of the Interior.’

‘Thank you. What now?’

‘As long as there are no problems, the body will be released in a few days, after our Senior State Medical Examiner has satisfied himself. After that you may make arrangements for it to be returned to England.’ He stared at Harry for a long moment, giving the impression that he wanted to ask a lot more questions, but could not. ‘Our forensics personnel say that in their opinion the lack of gunshot burns indicate it cannot be a death by suicide. Somebody unconnected with the shooting may have found the body and removed the gun — perhaps to sell. We will never know. It would be useful to know who might have wished harm to Sergeant Barrow, a complete stranger in this area.’ He lifted his eyebrows and waited.

Harry shrugged easily. The tactic was one he recognized, meant to draw him into saying more than he might want to. ‘I wish I could help,’ he said eventually. Ballatyne must have intervened at a high level to facilitate their release. If so, it would explain Drachmann’s general air of reluctance to let the matter drop. ‘I’m as puzzled as you are. I can only think they might have been criminals acting on chance.’

‘Criminals.’ Drachmann considered the word as if it were new to him. ‘Ah. You mean the Mafiya ?’

‘Of course.’

‘A possibility. They are everywhere.’ He didn’t look as if he believed it, but he nodded and walked away.

They were heading towards the hotel where Harry had booked a room in expectation of an overnight stay, when his phone rang. It was Rik.

‘Daddy, I’m home!’ he sang cheerfully.

‘Where are you?’

‘I’m about ten minutes out. Where shall we meet?’

Harry gave him the name and location of the hotel. He hadn’t seen the Passat for a while but he could almost feel its presence out there. The man wouldn’t have followed him all the way here from Tegel just to lose interest and leave. ‘Come up to the room whenever you can. I’ll see if I pick up the tail on the way there.’

He drove Ulf to his flat and said goodbye. They would be unlikely to meet again, and for Ulf’s sake he wanted to put some distance between them. His story about finding Barrow’s phone and passport would only stand up for as long as it remained convincing and uncomplicated. If Harry stayed with Ulf too long, Drachmann might start to wonder why and dig a little deeper.

He arrived at his hotel, a functional, two-storey block near the outskirts of town, and saw Rik in the car park behind the wheel of an anonymous Nissan. He was taking his low profile instructions seriously. There was no sign of the Passat.

Five minutes later, there was a knock at the door of his room. He checked the spyhole. It was Rik. He was dressed in jeans and a casual jacket, and wearing glasses. His normally spiky hair was only just this side of tidy.

‘Your man’s outside,’ Rik told him. He slumped on the nearest bed. He looked drained and was nursing his shoulder. ‘He pulled in on your tail but stayed out on the road.’

‘Well done. Who is he?’

‘The car’s registered to a Carl Petersen. He’s listed as a security specialist, but for that read private eye. Ex-German military, sometime heavy for a small gang in Berlin, he does low-level divorce and commercial stuff.’