Jeff Abbott - Trust Me

Henry’s tongue played along his lip. His breathing grew ragged. ‘I need to explain.’

An audition. He thought of the various terrorist wannabes on the Night Road site, asking for and getting expertise, the words they’d used. ‘It’s an investment. Someone overseas is investing in American-based terrorists.’

Henry nodded.

‘Your researches into terrorism. You interviewed people overseas, too.’ Now he put the knife close to Henry’s tender throat. He didn’t care if anyone else in a passing car saw. ‘Who?’

‘An elderly Saudi prince. He’s backing the fifty million. More to come if we succeed. Our connection with him is what gave Mouser access to a suicide bomber here in Paris. He is funding networks all over Europe, in East Africa, in the Philippines, in Australia.’

Luke lowered the knife. He thought he knew how deep this betrayal went, but this staggered him. ‘Why?’

‘I told you, I’ve been warning people about this for years, even with the new think-tank, I write the papers, not enough people listen, but now… they have to. I’ve predicted everything that’s going to happen. All my papers over the past six months. All the papers I’ve got coming out this week.’

‘You predict the future and then you make it happen. And now – everyone will listen to you. And pay you handsomely for your insights. And think you’re incredibly smart.’

Henry moved his mouth to say yes but no word issued from his breath, his lips.

‘Do you realize how utterly pathetic you are? Truly?’

Henry wiped at his mouth.

‘Why?’

‘I told you.’

‘Why me. Why involve me.’

‘I thought I could just write the papers – with you – and then when our “predictions” came true, we’d be a success together. I didn’t know I’d have to run the show. Handle the money, recruit the Night Road proper. But it was all my idea, so the prince wanted me involved. I couldn’t say no. I thought it would just be us together in the think-tank – not us together in the Night Road.’

Henry drove onto a highway that snaked through the northern suburbs of Paris.

Luke couldn’t look at him. It was as though he’d glanced into a well and seen bodies piled and rotting in the water, a sickening sight that would haunt him forever. ‘Hellfire. It’s bombs, isn’t it, with Snow involved.’

‘Snow made a lot of bombs. They’ve been planted in six cities.’

‘Planted where?’

The car’s phone rang. ‘Mouser,’ Henry whispered.

‘Tell him you saw me dead.’

Henry glanced at him.

‘I want him to think I’m dead.’

Henry answered the phone. He kept it on speaker.

Mouser sounded impatient. ‘Well? What happened?’

‘You won, Mouser. You won.’

‘Luke?’

‘Dead. I saw it myself. Lying in the street.’

‘His father’s people?’

‘Same.’

‘Excellent. Anything else?’

‘No.’

Mouser hung up. No goodbyes.

‘Where are these bombs, Henry?’

‘I’ll tell you if we can make a deal.’ Henry gave him a sidelong glance. ‘And if you kill me, you won’t get your dad or Aubrey back.’

‘What’s the deal?’

‘Mouser resents my efforts to protect you. He’s going to kill me, I feel sure, and take control of the Night Road entirely. I want immunity. I want protection.’

‘I can’t really give that to you.’

‘Quicksilver is more than that office in Paris or Drummond in New York. They can protect you. I want protection.’

‘All right.’

‘It will be a wave of bombings. A hundred and forty.’

A hundred and forty bombs. My God.

‘Where? What cities?’ He thought of the map of the previous attacks. Would they strike the same areas? Or entirely different ones?

‘When I’m safe, I’ll tell you. Not before.’ Henry glanced at his watch. ‘You better hurry. Mouser’s moving your father and Aubrey in the next hour.’

‘Describe where they’re being held.’

Henry remained silent and it was only when Luke shifted position to slice at him again that he said, ‘Don’t be an idiot. If you want them out, you need me. I can’t go in there bloodied. They’ll know something is wrong. Start using your brain, Luke.’ He reached out, grabbed Luke’s wrist. Squeezed. Released it. ‘You hate me. Fine. We’re still stuck together in this mess. You should tell me what you plan to do. Marching in with a knife on me buys you nothing.’

‘True. I need a gun.’

‘Glove compartment.’

Luke opened it, fished out a small Beretta. He checked; it was loaded. He didn’t say thank you.

‘Tell me what the plan is,’ Henry said. ‘I just gave you a gun.’

‘We’re going to go in and I’m killing Mouser.’

‘He has hired men with him. You have no chance. I want you alive, Luke. Look at me. I raised you, for God’s sakes.’

‘I don’t see tears in your eyes.’

‘I don’t cry. You know that.’

‘Thanks, but I’ll handle it myself. Where are they?’

‘The prince has a compound just outside Paris. I drove like the devil to get there in time to try and stop the bomber.’

‘Or to make sure his work was done.’

‘You know that’s not true. If you believe I want you dead, stab me right now. Do it. Kill me.’

‘I need you breathing, Henry.’ He thought of the words of ChicagoChris; now Luke was the one trying to earn admittance to the club. ‘You’re my golden ticket.’

A stone wall surrounded the compound. The home beyond looked like a chateau, grand but slightly shabby. The landscaping had been ripped up around the house but not replaced, giving the house the air of neglect. Three miles away was a former French air force base, used as a hub by Travport for its legitimate courier service.

‘The prince, he owns Travport, through a series of limited partnerships.’

‘And he put you in touch with Eric.’ Luke remembered the photos in Eric’s room at his parents’ house, him posing with a businessman type in the shimmer of the desert.

‘Yes.’ Henry paused. ‘Eric did banking for him when he worked on overseas projects. Mouser will fly us back on a Travport jet, with the prince’s permission. Easier with prisoners. You’re an idiot to try this.’

‘Not asking your opinion,’ Luke said from the back seat. Henry had given him a basic layout of the compound. In the center was the old small chateau that the prince’s money had renewed from ruin. Behind it was a large barn, a guest house. Beyond that was another house, and that was where Warren Dantry and Aubrey Perrault were now being held.

Or so Henry said. But Henry was the king of lies.

‘Guards?’

‘Two remaining. Now that Quicksilver’s Paris base is gone, and presumably the remains of Quicksilver scattered with it, I suspect that the guards will not have further reinforcements.’

‘I’m going to shoot the guards,’ Luke said. ‘If you give me away, I’ll shoot you too.’

‘Is it liberating to order me about?’ Henry sounded almost amused.

‘The spine, Henry, is where I’ll put the bullet. If you survive a nurse will wipe your chin and change your diaper.’ He knew Henry well enough to know the merest thought of a lack of control would frighten him.

Henry steered the car to an entrance. ‘The camera’s on me,’ he said.

‘Don’t talk. I don’t want them wondering who you’re talking to.’ Henry shut up. He entered an access code; the tasteless baroque iron gates hinged back and swung open with a false grandeur. He drove in.

‘What will be expected of you?’ Luke asked.

‘For me to drive to the back house.’

The odds were bad. Four to one, really, because Henry wasn’t on his side. Henry was only on his own side. Luke leaned closer to the floor of the sedan, keeping a tight grip on the gun. Fear prickled every bone in his body, and then the fear shrank, became smaller than himself.