Adrian Magson - Deception

‘What was all that about?’ said Rik.

‘Paulton,’ Harry replied, and nodded towards the trees. ‘He traded cars with a young porter named Mattheus. He went that way.’ Then he turned and looked toward the smoking debris of the car along the exit road. ‘And Mattheus got the wrong end of the deal.’

He felt a sense of defeat. Paulton had slipped away with moments to spare. It left him wondering how the former MI5 man had known they were here; how, right now, he’d suddenly judged it was time to go. Instinct born of experience, and maybe a sixth sense about what had happened to Deakin, had been enough to warn him away from his car, too. He would have known the Chinese weren’t likely to forgive being misled by the Protectory.

‘Why the bullet for Deakin,’ said Rik, ‘but a car bomb for Paulton?’

‘It just worked out that way,’ Harry guessed. ‘They were playing the odds. They’d have got them both in the hire car, anyway, but they wanted to make a specific point with Deakin.’

Rik shook his head. ‘They did that all right. But how did Paulton know?’

‘He’s smart and experienced; he’s been around the block. He’d have known playing with the Chinese was risky, and if they showed up here, they’d know who was with Deakin and they’d come prepared.’

‘That’s cold, though, using the porter like that.’

‘Yeah, well, it’s what he does.’ Harry felt tired. He couldn’t quite believe that it had merely been fear of the Chinese that had made Paulton run. If he’d known they were so close, he would have alerted Deakin, too. But he clearly hadn’t done that. Something else must have added to the urgency to leave right away.

Then he recalled what the manager had said, about the man he knew as Goddard being in his room. ‘ He was heard talking on the phone just a few minutes ago. ’

If he was on the phone, was he making a call. . or receiving one? A call telling him to get out if he valued his freedom.

‘He was warned off,’ said Harry with absolute certainty, and walked back towards their car. He could already hear the wail of sirens in the distance. Their presence here had been noted, and even with the benefit of the phone link to the Interior Ministry, it would be preferable not to be here when the police arrived. He started the car and turned towards the back road, away from the burning wreck out front.

‘Are we going after him?’ said Rik. He took out his gun and checked the magazine. ‘First thing we should ask him is who he’s getting his information from.’

‘I’d like to know that, too.’ Harry slowed to allow two golfers to cross the road, hurrying to see what the explosion had been about. Paulton, like Clare Jardine, clearly still had friends. Friends who were prepared to go out on a limb for him.

‘But we are going after him.’ Rik slapped the magazine back in place and applied the safety.

They reached the main road. Two hundred yards to their right, three police cars with lights blazing were making fast turns into the gate to the conference centre. A fire truck was hard on their heels. The smoke from the burning car was beginning to drift across the carriageway. Harry wondered if the cops had passed a small red Fiat going the other way. He debated going after it, but decided not to; Paulton had a head start and would already be losing himself in the suburbs, most likely on foot by now and blending in with the populace the way he would have been taught. The odds of finding him were far too slim.

Ballatyne’s words came back to him from the briefing in Georgio’s. ‘ We rarely get the resolution we crave. ’

He shook his head. He wasn’t prepared to believe that, not yet. He and Paulton had some unfinished business. But there were times when you had to pick your battles.

‘No, we’re not going after him. Not this time, anyway.’ He turned on the radio and tuned in to a music channel. ‘But we will.’

‘So what do we do?’

Harry considered it. He could see a bar-cafe sign along the road. A bit too close for comfort, but there were plenty more within a few minutes’ drive.

‘Have you ever tried Trappist ale?’

Rik shook his head, puzzled. ‘No. Why?’

‘You should. It’ll blow your socks off. Straighten your hair out. Curl your teeth. Put lead in your pencil.’

‘This is not some kind of date, is it?’

‘No. Call it an end-of-assignment party.’

Rik put the gun away and nodded. ‘In that case, it’s your shout.’

Harry nodded in agreement, then turned left and drove away.