Adrian Magson - Deception

‘Yes. And they’re right — television puts pounds on a face. What was the trade?’

‘We deliver a Lieutenant Tan — some highly placed aide to the Deputy Commander of your forces in Kabul — in return for a lot of money.’

‘How much?’

‘A million bucks. Deakin was doing a hard sell, saying he had access to this woman, and the guy lapped it up.’

‘Was Paulton there, too?’

‘No. He was meant to be, but he cried off at the last minute; said he was tied up.’ He sighed. ‘I was against the whole deal, but when Wien handed Deakin a case full of money as a down-payment, there was no going back. He gave us five days to come up with the goods.’ He shook his head. ‘It was insane; no way were we going to find her that quick. We didn’t even know where to begin — there was no sign of her anywhere.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ said Harry. ‘She never existed.’

A brief, frozen silence during which Turpowicz looked stunned. ‘You’re kidding!’

‘She was a ghost, laid to draw in the Protectory. You shouldn’t feel too bad — even Deakin’s man in London fell for it.’ So, he almost said, did I. But he decided that would be too much information.

Turpowicz shook his head. ‘Christ, were we ever suckered. In that case, you’d better move fast if you want Deakin and Paulton. If they’re still out there, anyway. I wouldn’t lay much on their chances when the Chinese get to hear about Tan. They’ve probably gotten them in their sights already.’

‘How did you manage to get away without them being suspicious?’

‘It was their idea. . well, Paulton’s, actually.’ Turpowicz looked a little sheepish. ‘He wanted a fall-back plan in case Zubac and Ganic failed to stop you. I was nominated to step in and do it instead.’

Harry nodded. ‘And you agreed with that?’

‘Sure. I’d already had contact with Army Intelligence, using a link with the UN. Soon as I could, I told them I was coming in.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘They agreed, but said I had to come in to London, brief your people on everything I knew about Deakin and his crew, then return to the States. But I wanted to meet you, too. I may be a failed soldier, Mr Tate, but I’m no assassin.’

Harry didn’t believe him, but there was little he could do about it. There had been other deaths attributed to the Protectory, and Turpowicz must have been around at the time. Maybe he just had a well-developed instinct for survival. If the Chinese really wanted to get antsy with Deakin over the money they had paid, it was unlikely they would bother coming after Turpowicz once he was in the States.

He wondered how long Deakin had got left.

‘Where are Deakin and Paulton?’

Turpowicz gave him the name of a conference centre near Ghent, in Belgium. ‘It’s a hideaway place he’s used before. Lots of privacy. They’ll be there two more days, then they’re gone. Deakin’s using the name Phillips, Paulton is Goddard.’ He blinked. ‘Is that us done?’

Harry reached into his top pocket and took out a small black box. He’d got as much as he needed from this man. How Ballatyne used it was up to him. ‘Pretty much. This has been transmitting ever since you sat down.’

Turpowicz looked stricken, and glanced down to his side involuntarily, his mouth working. ‘Jesus. . they’ll kill me for this.’ He swallowed and reached into his side pocket and produced a similar sized box to the one Harry was holding. ‘They told me I had to use this to block any signal. . I forgot.’

‘Technology,’ said Harry. ‘It’s a bitch, isn’t it?’

The Auberge Grand Lac was a glorious misnomer. More chateau than inn, it had clearly been added to in a variety of ways over the years resulting in a mishmash of conflicting styles, and it now resembled something with a touch of Hollywood. Shrouded by several acres of woodland around a large lake, it was billed as a conference centre with leisure facilities, seclusion guaranteed, with one road in and out along a looping stretch of narrow pink tarmac. The road in ended at a large open gravelled space out front with discreetly marked strips for guest parking. Several outbuildings linked by covered walkways were described on their website as a gym, guest rooms and a swimming pool with, further over, a group of tennis courts and a golf course.

Harry stopped the hire car just inside the gate, where he could get a clear panoramic view of the grounds and buildings. The place was impressive. It spoke of ample funds and devotion to a cause, which was the provision of facilities for those with means and the need for secluded discussions in surroundings untroubled by everyday life.

‘Nice place,’ said Rik Ferris. He had discarded his sling and was dressed in conservative slacks and a plain shirt and jacket. ‘Selling state secrets must pay well if Deakin’s lot can afford to stay here.’

Harry used a small pair of binoculars to check the area around the main building. A few business types were wandering around, probably on a break from their meetings. A patio on one side of the building held a scattering of chairs and tables, with more people gathered around a trestle table serving coffee and biscuits. Cameras were located on the roof at various points, and floodlights, too, at ground level.

But no security guards, he noted. At least, not obvious ones.

He checked the tree line, which stood at least two hundred yards from the nearest building. A narrow track ran between the two, cutting across part of the golf course. Probably an access road for maintenance or deliveries. A few players were abusing balls out on the greens, but in a refined, easygoing way; no doubt the top dogs of the corporate world, enjoying a round or two while the juniors did the talking and meeting inside.

‘Come on,’ he said, and got back in the car.

They drove to the front entrance and parked out front. A shuttle emblazoned with the centre’s name was loading cases and passengers, and Harry scanned the faces out of habit. Tired-looking, but smiling, checking out and heading for home after a gruelling few days. A grey Mercedes was ticking over near the road, the Asian driver standing by the door. He looked alert and fit, too watchful to be an ordinary chauffeur or taxi driver. Harry was reminded of Ballatyne’s words when the MI6 officer found out where he was going.

‘The place is used by foreign diplomats, so don’t go shooting anyone we like.’

It had taken a lot of persuasion for Ballatyne to allow Harry to proceed, but he had thrown in the right amount of help where it was needed, on the grounds that it wouldn’t cost anything.

Harry left Rik outside and walked past the shuttle bus and through the front entrance. Inside was all marble and glass, soulless as a hospital foyer, only quieter. He approached the desk and asked to speak to the manager. The receptionist nodded and hustled away into a rear office, returning with a bristle-topped man with sad eyes and the look of a professional problem solver.

‘Yes, sir? May I help?’

Harry showed him a card with a name on it. It held a telephone number which was a direct line to a senior member of the Belgian Interior Ministry. Ballatyne had assured him that it would clear the way should he need it, and that the Belgians had been advised of his visit but would keep only a watching brief.

He could tell by the manager’s reaction that the name was familiar.

‘If you ring that number,’ Harry said quietly, ‘you will have confirmation of our credentials. In the meantime, could you tell me if two guests by the name of Phillips and Goddard are still here?’

The manager nodded eagerly. ‘Of course, sir. As a matter of fact, I have already had a call from the ministry, advising me of your. . visit.’ He glanced sideways but there was nobody close by. ‘I would merely ask that you be discreet, please. We have trade delegations here from Hong Kong and Singapore and I would not wish to upset the atmosphere.’ He simpered. ‘They are like wild birds: once frightened, they rarely come back.’