Brian Freemantle - The Predators

Norris remained silent for several minutes. ‘So what’s the local situation?’

‘We’ve been given total Belgian cooperation, guaranteed at Justice Minister level. The police commissioner, Andre Poncellet, is personally involving himself. And they’ve called in Europol, which is-’

‘I know what Europol is,’ snapped the other man. ‘We advised, when they were set up. Same rules as with the local force. We’ll take everything they’ve got to offer but I don’t want them getting in the way of our investigating.’ He shifted in his seat for the first time. ‘That means maintaining the closest, day-to-day contact: officially we accept they’re in charge, running the operation. You know how big a force Europol are committing?’

‘No. I haven’t got any names, either. Just know they’re coming in tonight. I’ve scheduled a leaders’ conference at the embassy tomorrow. Included Poncellet.’

‘Good deal,’ said the thin man. ‘Anything else that needs saying?’

‘Not that I can think of.’ At last they reached the Boulevard du Regent. Harding gestured ahead and said: ‘There’s the embassy.’

‘We’ve filled in the journey very well,’ said Norris. ‘Got to know each other. That’s good.’

Paul Harding couldn’t remember a man who’d made him feel so unsettled, ever in his career. And that included three proven killers, one with a. 375 magnum in his hand. Ever conscious of retirement just three years away, he said: ‘It has been good. I’ve enjoyed it.’

Liar, thought Norris.

James McBride was waiting in his study, jacket off, tie loosened around an unbuttoned collar. Hillary sat some way away, the customary distance re-established, in contrast perfectly composed, perfectly dressed, every hair starchily in place. The ambassador already had a large Jack Daniel’s on the desk in front of him and gestured them towards the open cabinet while the introductions were made. Harding was already going towards it before he realized Norris had refused and thought, fuck it! With no alternative he carried on, desperately seeking a soda. Then again he thought fuck it, defiant this time, and took at least three fingers of Jack Daniel’s, too. It looked even larger from the amount of ice he added. It had been one hell of a drive. The following days were going to be hell as well. Maybe worse.

‘I heard through State that you’re the Bureau’s chief negotiator,’ said McBride. ‘That’s good. That’s how it’s got to be.’ His hand was visibly shaking when he lifted the whisky glass.

‘Everyone with me is an expert in his field,’ assured Norris. He sat primly and very upright, his concentration absolute on the politically appointed diplomat with more back-door clout than anyone in the new administration.

‘We want our daughter back, Mr Norris,’ said Hillary. There was a note of impatience in her voice.

‘I’ll get her back for you, ma’am. All I need is the contact.’ There was no doubt in the man’s voice.

The head-on ego clash was deafening, thought Harding.

‘I’ve made arrangements with my bank about money. I’ve guessed at three million,’ said McBride.

‘They were in touch before I left Pennsylvania Avenue. The Director dealt with it himself. The numbers are already being computer logged. And it’ll be marked before coming here in the diplomatic bag.’

‘Will three million be enough?’ demanded the woman.

‘It’s enough to negotiate with.’

‘What else can we do?’ asked McBride.

‘Let me talk a few things through with you,’ said Norris.

McBride appeared to become aware of the hand tremor and put the glass down on his desk. ‘Anything. What?’

For the first time Norris indicated the other FBI officer. ‘The day your daughter vanished you told Paul that they – the people who’ve got her – had done it to get at you. I don’t understand that, sir.’

McBride looked blankly at the strangely still man, wishing his hands weren’t shaking so obviously, trying to reassure himself Norris would imagine it was solely concern for Mary. To gain even more time he turned to Harding. ‘I don’t remember saying that.’

‘You did, sir,’ insisted the resident officer.

‘I was very upset. If I said it I probably meant directed at me as the official representative of the United States of America, not that it was personal.’

‘Have there been threats against the embassy? Any reason for thinking that?’ persisted Norris.

‘Not directly. But there’s a great resurgence of fascism – neo-Nazism – throughout Europe. Quite a lot of anti-American feeling.’ He didn’t want to go on down this road: it wasn’t sounding convincing enough.

‘Let’s look at it from a personal viewpoint. What about your business before your appointment?’

McBride felt the first twitch of uncertainty, deep in his stomach: he wanted even less to go in this direction. ‘I founded and headed a legitimate armaments corporation that always conducted business at official government levels.’ He pushed what he hoped would sound like outrage into his voice. ‘I’m not aware of offending anyone, which is what I guess you’re implying.’ It was too long ago. If the motherfucker had wanted to hurt him he’d have done it years ago.

‘I wasn’t implying anything specific,’ said Norris easily. ‘Just trying to cover all the bases. Arms dealing can have its uncertain aspects, can’t it?’

The opening for further outrage. ‘I was not operating in dark alleys with people whose names I didn’t know. Mine was the corporation governments came to.’ With a few exceptions. One in particular: the ghost always there to climb out of the closet. But he hadn’t known: genuinely, honestly, hadn’t known. They had to understand that, if it ever leaked.

Luigi della Sialvo had been a government procurer. Credentials a mile high. Sold a lot of stuff to Italy, every deal one hundred per cent kosher, every End User certificate stamped, sealed and countersigned. Except for that one occasion. Luigi fucking Sialvo working on the side, building up his own special pension with a bullshit line about having known the smiling Mr Lee for years, personally vouching for him, an introduction between trusted friends. And there had been an End User guarantee. Singapore, a toe-hold in the Asian market, a new business opportunity. Thanks, Luigi, you’re a buddy: sure the commission can go into the Zurich bank. Not unusual. Accepted practice. Good deal too. Twenty million to open, all up front, thirty-five to follow, same payment arrangements. And it did arrive, timed to the second. And a Singapore address, a bona fide company, to go with the End User requirement.

But the Sidewinders and the Cruise and the antipersonnel stuff hadn’t ended up in Singapore. Just passed through, the arms dealers’ law of perpetual motion. New company in Korea, shuffle-shuffle to Indonesia where the transport planes were waiting for the direct flight to Baghdad, all greased and ready for the start of the Gulf War.

He hadn’t given in to the blackmail when it came. Not James Kilbright McBride’s style. Faced down the no longer smiling Mr Lee when he’d set it all out, embarrassment after embarrassment, to force the order so urgent there wasn’t time to ship through all the cut-outs. If I drop you’ll drop, you bastard: you’ll be the pariah in the arms business, never operate again, so go fuck yourself.

There was much further to drop now though, if it ever came out. And it wouldn’t be a Chinese entrepreneur falling with him. US President funded by Saddam gold. A no defence catastrophe.

McBride made a conscious, determined effort to curb the panic, pressing one shaking hand down upon the other. All in the past: too long ago in the past. Before the appointment he’d been Bureau vetted, as a matter of course. Come through squeaky clean. Like he would again. Ridiculous to think there was any danger.