James Twining - The Geneva Deception

‘Leave it? Are you joking? This thing’s worth a bloody fortune.’

‘Not to us, it isn’t. Besides, the less we take, the more chance that Faulks won’t even realise we’ve been here.’

Free Port, Geneva

20th March-3.46 p.m.

Faulks’s initial shock had given way to a bewildered incredulity. It was impossible. The stock. His best stock. The documentation. The safe. Everything gone. Spirited away. Everything. Thousands of items. Tens of millions of dollars. How had they got in? How had they got away without being seen?

‘Earl, I don’t understand. What’s going on? What is this place?’ Verity sounded nervous, like someone who’d witnessed a gangland killing and was now worried about being dragged into testifying.

‘Did you tell anyone you were coming here?’ Faulks spun round to face her, jabbing his umbrella at her accusingly.

‘Of course not,’ she insisted hotly. ‘How could I? I’ve never been here before.’

He glared at her, his disbelief having slipped into anger, although not with her in particular. With everyone. With everything. She gave a sharp intake of breath, her eyes widening in understanding.

‘Oh my God, Earl, have you been robbed?’

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, exhaled and then opened them again, part of him almost expecting to find that everything was still there after all and that this had just been a terrible dream. Logan reappeared and jerked his head to indicate that they needed to talk. Alone.

‘Give me a minute, Verity,’ Faulks said, following Logan back out into the first room and closing the door behind him.

‘Well?’

‘The guard downstairs hasn’a seen nothing,’ Logan said in a low voice. ‘Nor had th’ one on the night shift when we called him.’

‘Not unless they’re both in on it together,’ Faulks pointed out.

‘Aye well, I’d know if he was.’ Logan gave him a tight smile.

Looking down, Faulks noticed that the Scotsman’s knuckles were grazed and that there was a faint spray of blood on his collar. He felt a little better.

‘What about the surveillance footage?’

‘Backed up remotely. I’ve asked for a copy. It’ll be here in an hour.’

‘Anyone else in the building?’

‘Just the people who moved in today.’

Faulks snorted.

‘Well, there you go then.’

‘There’s only four o’ them and they signed in at twelve thirty,’ Logan pointed out with a firm shake of his head. ‘Shiftin’ all tha’ would have tak’n them days.’

‘And he didn’t hear the alarm go off?’

‘No.’

‘Bastards must have disabled it,’ Faulks hissed, striding over to the control panel next to the main entrance and smacking it angrily, taking some pleasure in the sharp stab of pain as it spread across his palm. ‘What’s the point in paying for…’

He broke off as the keypad fell away from the wall and crashed on to the floor. Frowning, he bent down to pick it up, then noticed the two pieces of black tape that had been securing it to the wall.

‘Jesus,’ he swore, tossing the panel to Logan. ‘It’s a dummy. We’re in the wrong goddamned room.’

Turning, he limped back out on to the corridor. Ignoring the lift, he made his way to the fire escape and leaned over the banisters, following the staircase as it snaked its way down to the floor below and then…to the ground floor.

With Logan at his shoulder, Faulks climbed the staircase as fast as he could, then stepped out on to the empty corridor and turned towards his offices. Here the nature of the deception became abundantly clear -all the signs and door numbers were missing, having presumably been removed and re-attached on the floor below to confuse him.

He flung the door to his offices open. Apart from the cupboards down the right-hand wall, the room was empty and almost unrecognisable without its furniture, carpet or curtains.

And standing at its centre was a woman.

Free Port, Geneva

20th March-3.50 p.m.

‘Where’s Archie?’ Tom asked as he threw his bag into the boot and slammed it shut.

‘With Allegra,’ Dominique panted, sliding into the passenger seat next to him.

There was a brief lull as they waited, Tom tapping his fingers nervously on the window sill.

‘Did you sweep the safe clean?’

‘He won’t know we’ve been in there,’ she reassured him. ‘Not unless he moves the crates and sees where I’ve taped over the drill hole in the side.’

‘Good.’

‘So what now?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Tom admitted. ‘We still don’t know where they’re meeting.’

‘What was that piece of paper you took out of the safe, then?’

‘Something else that I thought might come in useful.’ He craned his neck for a view of the entrance. ‘What’s taking them so long?’

‘Do you want me to go back inside?’

‘Let’s just give them another-’

‘Look, here he comes!’ Dominique pointed with relief as Archie exited the building and jogged over to the car.

‘Yeah, but why’s he on his own?’ Tom frowned, his eyes still fixed on the building’s entrance.

Archie threw the door open and climbed in.

‘Close one.’ He sighed with relief. ‘Nearly bumped into Faulks coming up the stairs. I think he’s finally twigged.’

‘Where’s Allegra?’ Tom asked in an urgent voice.

‘Allegra?’ Archie looked around, only now, it seemed, noticing that she was not in the car. ‘I thought she was with you?’

‘Well, she’s not,’ Tom shot back.

‘When did you last see her?’

‘Upstairs. She was helping me pack up my kit. I handed her the…’

He paused, a sudden thought occurring to him. Flinging the door open, he raced round to the back of the car and popped the boot.

‘What are you looking for?’ Archie asked as he rooted through his bag.

‘This,’ Tom said, holding up the receiver for the location beacon.

He turned it on. A faint pulse of light confirmed what he had already guessed. The transmitter was about fifty yards directly in front of him.

‘She’s still inside.’

‘What the hell’s she doing?’ Archie’s voice was caught somewhere surprise and admiration.

‘Playing the only card we have left.’

Free Port, Geneva

20th March-3.50 p.m.

‘Who the hell are you?’ Faulks paused on the threshold, wary of another trick.

‘Everything’s here,’ she reassured him. ‘I just wanted to make sure I got your attention.’

‘Congratulations. You’ve got it,’ he snarled, motioning at Logan to grab her, while he checked the cupboards and stuck his head into the next room.

Unbelievably, everything did indeed seem to be there, the empty desolation of a few minutes ago quickly replaced by a warm wave of relief. And a cold current of anger.

‘Who are you?’ he repeated.

‘Lieutenant Allegra Damico. An officer with the TPA.’

A pause, Faulks giving a thin smile at her laboured breathing as Logan tightened his grip on her arm which he had bent behind her back.

‘What do you want?’

‘I have some information for the Delian League.’

‘Who?’

‘I think we’re a little beyond that,’ she said, nodding in the direction of the documentation in the small room.

‘Earl, are you in here?’

Faulks’s head snapped round at the sound of Verity’s approaching voice.

‘Damn,’ he swore, then turned back to Allegra with an impatient shrug. He didn’t have time for this. Not today of all days. Not now. But after the lengths she’d gone to…there was no telling what she knew or who she’d told. He had to be sure. The League had to be sure. ‘You’re right. We’re way beyond that.’