Jeffrey Archer - False Impression

“Thank you,” said Anna.

“Do you still want me to take you to the airport?”

“I don’t have any choice,” Anna replied.

“I could lose him,” said Sergei, “but then he would know that you were on to him.”

“Not much point,” said Anna. “He already knows where I’m going.”

Jack always carried his passport, wallet, and credit card with him in case of just such an emergency. “Damn,” he said, when he saw the sign for the airport and remembered his unpacked suitcase sitting in the hotel room.

Three or four other taxis were also heading in the direction of Otopeni airport, and Jack wondered which one the woman was in, or whether she was already at the airport and booked on the same flight as Anna Petrescu.

Anna handed Sergei a twenty-dollar bill long before they’d reached Otopeni and told him which flight she was booked to return on.

“Would you be able to pick me up?” she asked.

“Of course,” promised Sergei, as he came to a halt outside the international terminal.

“Is he still following us?” Anna asked.

“Yes,” Sergei replied, as he jumped out of the car.

A porter appeared and helped load the crate and her suitcase onto a trolley.

“I’ll be here when you return,” Sergei assured Anna, before she disappeared into the terminal.

Jack’s cab screeched to a halt behind the yellow Mercedes. He leaped out and ran toward the driver’s window, waving a ten-dollar bill. Sergei wound the window down slowly and took the proffered money. Jack smiled.

“The lady in your cab, do you know where she’s going?”

“Yes,” replied Sergei, stroking his thick moustache.

Jack peeled off another ten-dollar bill, which Sergei happily pocketed.

“Well, where?” demanded Jack.

“Abroad,” replied Sergei, put the car into first gear, and drove off.

Jack cursed, ran back to his own cab, paid the fare — three dollars — and walked quickly into the airport. He stood still while checking in every direction. Moments later he spotted Anna leaving the check-in counter and heading toward the escalator. He didn’t move again until she was out of sight. By the time he had reached the top of the escalator, Anna was already in the café. She’d taken a seat in the far corner from where she could observe everything and, more important, everybody. Not only was he being followed, but now the person he was following was also looking out for him. She had already mastered being a tool so she could identify her target. Jack feared that this could end up as a case study at Quantico on how not to trail a suspect.

He retraced his steps back down to the ground floor and checked the departure board. There were only five international flights out of Bucharest that day: Moscow, Hong Kong, New Delhi, London, and Berlin.

Jack dismissed Moscow, as it was due to depart in forty minutes and Anna was still in the café. New Delhi and Berlin weren’t scheduled to leave until the early evening, and he also considered Hong Kong unlikely, although it departed in just under two hours, while the London flight was fifteen minutes later. It had to be London, he decided, but he still couldn’t take the risk. He would purchase two tickets, one for Hong Kong, and a second for London. If she didn’t appear at the departure gate for Hong Kong, he would board the flight to Heathrow. He wondered if her other pursuer was considering the same options, although he had a feeling she already knew which flight Anna was on.

Once Jack had purchased both tickets and explained twice that he had no luggage, he headed straight for Gate 33 to carry out a point surveillance. When he arrived, he took a seat among those passengers who were waiting at Gate 31 for the departure of their flight to Moscow. Jack even gave a moment’s thought to going back to the hotel, packing his bags, paying the bill, and then returning to the airport, but only a moment’s thought, because if the choice was between losing his bags or losing his quarry, it wasn’t much of a choice.

Jack called the hotel manager at the Bucharesti International on his cell phone and, without going into any detail, explained what he needed doing. He could imagine the puzzled expression on the manager’s face when he asked for his bags to be packed and left in reception. However, his suggestion that they add twenty dollars to his bill elicited the response, “I’ll deal with it personally, sir.”

Jack began to wonder if Anna was simply using the airport as a decoy while actually planning to return to Bucharest and pick up the red crate. He certainly couldn’t have acted in a more unprofessional manner when he chased after her driver. But if she had worked out that someone was following her, as an amateur her first reaction would have been to try and lose her pursuer as quickly as possible. Only a professional would consider such a devious ploy when trying to shake someone off. Was it possible that Anna was a professional and still working for Fenston? In which case, was he the one being pursued?

Flight 3211 to Moscow was already boarding when Anna strolled by. She looked relaxed as she took her place among those waiting to board Cathay Pacific Flight 017 to Hong Kong. Once she was seated in the lounge, Jack slipped back down to the concourse and kept out of sight while he waited for the final call of Flight 017. Forty minutes later, he ascended the escalator a third time.

All three of them boarded the Boeing 747 bound for Hong Kong at different times. One in first class, one in business, and one in economy.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you, m’lady, but a large box of documents has been delivered by Simpson and Simpson, and I wondered where you wished me to put it.”

Arabella put down her pen and looked up from the writing desk. “Andrews, do you remember when I was a child and you were second butler?”

“I do, m’lady,” said Andrews, sounding somewhat puzzled.

“And every Christmas we used to play a game called Hunt the Parcel?”

“We did indeed, m’lady.”

“And one Christmas you hid a box of chocolates. Victoria and I spent an entire afternoon trying to find them — but we never did.”

“Yes, m’lady. Lady Victoria accused me of eating them and burst into tears.”

“But you still refused to tell her where they were.”

“That is correct, m’lady, but I must confess your father promised me sixpence if I didn’t reveal where they were hidden.”

“Why did he do that?” asked Arabella.

“His lordship hoped to spend a peaceful Christmas afternoon, enjoying a glass of port and a leisurely cigar, happy in the knowledge that you were both fully occupied.”

“But we never found them,” said Arabella.

“And I was never paid my sixpence,” said Andrews.

“Can you still recall where you hid them?”

Andrews considered the question for a few moments, before a smile appeared on his face.

“Yes, m’lady,” he said, “and for all I know, they are still there.”

“Good, because I should like you to put the box that Simpson and Simpson have just delivered in the same place.”

“As you wish, m’lady,” said Andrews, trying to look as if he had some idea what his mistress was talking about.

“And next Christmas, Andrews, should I attempt to find them, you must be sure not to let me know where they are hidden.”

“And will I receive sixpence on this occasion, m’lady?”

“A shilling,” promised Arabella, “but only if no one else finds out where they are.”

Anna settled herself into a window seat at the back of economy. If the man Fenston had sent to track her down was on the plane, as she suspected he was, at least Anna now knew what she was up against. She began to think about him and how he’d discovered that she would be in Bucharest. How did he know her mother’s address, and was he already aware that her next stop was Tokyo?