Ken Follett - Triple (1991)

"It's not loaded," Tyrin said. He stuffed the gun into his raincoat pocket. Hassan said, "If the lover stays the night do we take them in the morningr' "Certainly not," Rostov said. "We cant do this sort of thing in broad daylight." "What, thenT' "I haven't decided." He thought about it until midnight, and then the problem solved itself. Rostov was watching the doorway through half-closed eyes. He saw the first movement of the door as it began to operL He said: "Now." Nik was first out of the car. Tyrin was next. Hassan took a moment to realize what was happening, then he followed suit. The two men were saying goodnight, the younger one on the pavement, the older just inside the door wearing a robe. The older one, the delivery man, reached out and gave his lover's arm a farewell squeeze. They both looked up, alarmed, as Nik and Tyrin burst out of the car and came at them. "Don't move, be silent," Tyrin said softly in French, showing them the gun. Rostov noticed -that Nik's sound tactical instinct had led him to stand beside and slightly behind the younger man. The older one said, "Oh, my God, no, no more please." "Get in the car," Tyrin said. The younger man said, "Why can't you fuckers leave us alone? Watching and listening from the back seat of the car, Rostov thought: This is the moment they decide whether to come quietly or make trouble. He glanced quickly up and down the darkened street. It was empty. Nik, sensing that the younger man was thinking of disobedience, seized both his arms jug below the shoulders and held him tightly. "Don't hux-t him, ru go," said the older man. He stepped out of the house. His friend said, "The bell you willl" Rostov thought: Damn. Ile younger man struggled in Nik's grip, then tried to stamp on NWs foot. Nil stepped back a pace and bit the boy in the kidney with his right fist "No, Pierrel" the older one said, too loud. Tyrin jumped him and put a big hand over the man!s mouth. He struggled, got his head free, and shouted "Helpl" before Tyrin gagged him again. Pierre had fallen to one knee and was groaning. Rostov leaned across the back seat of the car and called through the open window, "Izes Rol" Tyrin lifted the older man off his feet and carried him bodily across the pavement toward the car. Pierre suddenly recovered from Nik's punch and sprinted away. Hassan stuck out a leg and tripped him. The boy went sprawling on to the cobbled road. . Rostov saw a light go on in an upstairs window at a neighboring-house. if the fracas continued much longer they would all get arrested. Tyrin bundled the delivery man into the back of the car. Rostov grabbed hold of him and said to Tyrin: "I've got him. Start the car. Quick." Nil had picked up the younger one and was carrying him to the car. Tyrin got Into the driver's seat and Hassan opened the other door. Rostov said, "Hassan, shut the door of the house, idiotl" Nik pushed the young man into the car next to his friend, then got into the back seat so that the two captives were between Rostov and himself. Hassan closed the door of the house and jumped into the front passenger seat of the car. Tyrin gunned the car away from the curb. Rostov said in English, "Jesus Christ almighty,. what a fuck-up." Pierre was still groaning. The older prisoner said, "We haven!t done anything to hurt you." "Haven't you?" Rostov replied. 'qbree nights ago, at the club in the Rue Dicks, you delivered a briefcase to an Englishman.- 64M Rodsersr 'Orhat's not his name," Rostov said. "Are you the police?" "Not exactly." Rostov would let the man believe what he wanted to. "I'm not interested in collecting evidence, building a case, and bringing you to a trial. I'm interested in what was in that briefcase." There was a silence Tyrm spoke over his shoulder 'Want me to head out of town, look for a quiet spot?" Vait,- Rostov said. The older man said, "I'll tell you." "Just drive around town," Rostov told Tyrin. He looked at the Euratom, man. "So tell me." "It was a Euratom computer printouV' "And the information on it?" "Details of licensed shipments of fissionable materials." "Fissionable? You mean nuclear stuff?" "Yellowcake, uranium metal, nuclear waste, plutonium.. ." Rostov sat back in the seat and looked out of the window at the fights of the city going by. His blood raced with excitement: Dickstein!s operation was becoming visible. Ilcensed shipments of fissionable materials ... the Israelis wanted nuclear fuel. Dickstein would be looking for one of two thing& on that list--either a holder of uranium who might be prepared to sell some on the black market, or a consignment of uranium he might be able to steal. As for what they would do with the staff once they got ft.. . The Euratom man interrupted his thoughts. "NM you let us go home now?" Rostov said, "I'll have to have a copy of that printout." "I can't take another one, the disappearance of the first was suspicious enough I" "I'm afraid you'll have to," Rostov said. "But if you like, you can take ft back to the office after we've photographed it. "Oh, God," the man groaned. "You've got no choice." "All right." -"Head back to the house," Rostov told Tyrin. To the Euratom man he said, "Bring the printout home tomorrow night Someone will come to your house during the evening to photograph it." The big car moved through the streets of the city. Rostov felt the snatch had not been such a disaster after all. Nik Bunin said to Pierre, "Stop looking at me."

They.reached the cobbled street Tyrin stopped the car. "Okay," Rostov said. "Let the older man out. His friend stays with us." The Euratom man yelped as if hurt. "Why?" "In case you're tempted to break down and confess everything to your bosses tomorrow. Young Pierre will be our hostage. Get out." Nik opened the door and let the man out He stood on the pavement for a moment. Nik got back in and Tyrin drove off. Hassan said, "Will he be all right? Will he do it?" "He'll work for us until he gets his friend back," Rostov said. "And then?" Rostov said nothing. He was thinking that it would probably be prudent to kill them both.

Ibis is Suza's nightmare. It is evening at the green-and-wbite house by the river. She is alone. She takes a bath, lying for a long time in the hot scented water. Afterward she goes into the master bedroom, sits in front of the three-sided mirror, and dusts herself with powder from an onyx box that belonged to her mother. She opens the wardrobe, expecting to find her mother's clothes moth-eaten, falling away from the hangers in dun colored tatters, transparent with age; but it is not so: they are all clean and new and perfect, except for a faint odor of mothballs. She chooses a nightgown, white as a shroud, and puts it on. She gets into the bed. I She lies still for a long time, waiting for Nat Dickstein to come to his Eila. IMe evening becomes night. The river whis. pers. The door opens. The man stands at the foot of the bed and takes off his clothes. He lies on top of her, and her panic begins like the first small spark of a conflagration as she realizes that it is not Nat Dickstein but her father; and that she is, of course, long dead: and as the nightgown crumbles to dust and her hair falls out and her flesh Withers and the skin of her face dries and shrinks baring the teeth and the skull and she becomes, even as the man thrusts at her, a skeleton, so she screams and screams and screams and wakes up, and she lies perspiring and. shivering and frightened, wondering why nobody comes rushing in to ask what is wrong, until she realizes with relief that even the screams were dreamed; and consoled, she wonders vaguely about the meaning of the dream while she drifts back Into sleep. In the morning she is her usual cheerful self, except perhaps for a small imprecise darkness, like a smudge of cloud in the sky of her mood, not remembering the dream at all, only aware that there was once something that troubled her, not worrying anymore, though, because, after all, dreaming is instead of worrying.