Stephen Leather - Breakout

When they began to board, the other passengers all had pre-booked tickets, and were waved through by the driver, a pale-skinned Latino who spoke English with a strong American accent. When Harper reached the head of the queue, he pulled a twenty dollar bill from his wallet and offered it to the driver. ‘I haven’t booked, I’m afraid,’ he said, ‘but unless you’re full?’

‘I’ll probably be able to fit you in,’ the driver said, eyeing the money. ‘No luggage?’

‘No, I’m travelling light. Keep the change,’ Harper said, hurrying down the bus to an empty seat to forestall any further conversation.

He’d planned this way of reaching the airport just because he felt there would be safety in numbers - one more Westerner among the floods of foreign tourists who were by far the bulk of the airport’s customers would be unlikely to attract any particular attention. The dollars, yen and other foreign currencies they brought were a huge boost to the local economy, making it unlikely that the local politicians would tolerate any police or airport officials putting that in jeopardy by any excess of officiousness or any harassment of the precious tourists, so Harper had calculated that this was the safest departure point for him.

The bus set off soon afterwards, and in pleasing contrast to the previous day’s bouncing and bucketing journey, it made smooth and rapid progress along a tarmac highway, pulling in just after midday to the Aeropuerto Internacional Inca Manco Capac at Juliaca, named after the founder of the Inca city of Cuzco. While the tourists lined up to claim their luggage as the driver unloaded it, Harper strolled into the terminal, checked the departures board and then walked over to the LATAM desk and bought a Club Class, one-way ticket to Miami, with a brief stop in Lima.

He checked in using a false passport and strolled through the fast track channel and was on the air-side of the terminal within five minutes. He had another coffee and a second breakfast as he found his appetite returning still more, but saved a celebration drink until he had safely boarded the aircraft and settled in his seat. ‘A glass of champagne señor ?’ the stewardess said.

‘Hell yes,’ Harper said, ‘and you know what? Just leave the bottle.’

CHAPTER 25

Harper changed flights in Miami and his first act after disembarking there was to phone Myfanwy. She answered the call and he got straight to the point. ‘I wish I could be telling you this in person, rather than down the phone, but I’m still a long way away and I didn’t want to leave you in suspense any longer than I had to. I did find Scouse but I’m afraid it’s bad news. Do you want to sit down while I tell you?’

‘No, I’m all right,’ she said. ‘I suppose I’d already resigned myself to the fact that he wasn’t going to be coming back to me. Just tell me where he is and what happened to him, would you?’

‘I’m afraid he’s dead.’ He paused, carefully measuring his next words as he heard Myfanwy stifling a sob. In the background he could also hear her baby crying.

‘I found him alive,’ Harper said, ‘but by then he was very ill and weak. Just the same I tried to get him home, but there was some fighting and he was hit by a stray bullet. He wasn’t involved in it, he just happened to have been in the wrong place, at the wrong time. He didn’t die at once and he had time to tell me how much he loved you and your baby, and he asked me to try to help you in any way I could. I couldn’t bring his body home to you, there just wasn’t any way to do it, I’m afraid, but he’s been buried in a really beautiful place, high in the mountains, looking out over a lake.’ He paused again. ‘I know this is going to be absolutely no consolation for your loss, Myfanwy, but the company that Scouse was working for is going to help you financially and I’m sure they’ll be in touch about that, very soon. If there’s anything else I can do, you know how to contact me, and Myfanwy, I’m truly, truly sorry to be the bearer of such terrible news.’

He waited until she broke the connection and then hung up himself. He hadn’t given her the full story, and had glossed over some of the details, but he felt it was the kindest thing to do. Better that she should think Scouse had died in a tragic accident than be burning up with rage and thoughts of revenge against the people who had imprisoned and tortured him, and then had him killed.

He went and splashed some water on his face, then squared his shoulders and went to buy a ticket for his connecting flight. He was desperate to get home to Pattaya but there was something else he needed to do first, and so his next destination was not to be Bangkok, but Geneva.

His flight arrived there too late for him to turn up at Risk Reduction’s corporate headquarters that evening, so he booked into a hotel for the night and took an evening stroll round the city and along the shore of the lake. It was an abrupt, strange and unsettling change of scene for him, from the colourful, vibrant street life of the South American towns and cities he had just been experiencing, with all their attendant noise, dirt, crime and corruption, to the genteel, pristine and rather sterile streets of the Swiss capital. In Geneva even a raised voice was likely to attract some disapproving looks and a carelessly discarded cigarette butt or sweet wrapper was liable to land you in jail. For all their flaws, Harper reflected, he far preferred the cities of the Third World to a safe but bland and oh so boring First World city like Geneva.

First thing the next morning, Harper turned up at the glass and stainless-steel offices of Risk Reduction. He passed the uniformed, armed guards patrolling the entrance, and waited in the airlock with its bullet proof glass while the automatic sensors tested the air for any traces of firearms or explosives, until finally it hissed open to admit him to the inner lobby.

He admitted he had no appointment but told the receptionist his name and said ‘I have to see the chairman on a matter of the utmost importance, concerning the company’s South American operations. Tell his PA that and I’m sure he’ll see me.’

‘Then take a seat and I’ll pass the message on to his PA,’ the receptionist said, ‘but he’s a very busy man, so I can’t promise he’ll be able to make time for you.’

‘Understood,’ Harper said, ‘but I’m not leaving here until he does.’

After being kept waiting in the lobby for over an hour, he was given a visitor’s security pass, and the same blonde and mini-skirted PA he had seen on his last visit eventually appeared and escorted him to the lifts. Her glance took in his still crumpled and dirty clothes, and she raised a disapproving eyebrow but remained silent as the lift climbed to the top floor. She led him past the room filled with employees staring at computer screens, and the glass-walled conference room, to the chairman’s corner suite with its spectacular views over the city and the lake.

The chairman stood up and came round his desk, extending a hand to greet him. ‘Mr Harper,’ he said. ‘What a pleasure it is to see you again.’ He turned to his PA. ‘Some coffee for our guest, please.’ When she had brought it and left the office, the chairman studied Harper over the rim of his cup for a moment and then asked him how he could help.

‘It concerns my friend and your former employee, Scouse Davies, who was illegally imprisoned, tortured and then murdered in Bolivia while carrying out his duties on your behalf. Furthermore,…’

The chairman held up a hand. ‘If you will forgive the interruption, Mr Davies was in fact a self-employed contractor, not an employee.’

‘And with respect,’ Harper said, ‘that’s the sort of crap that PR flacks and faceless corporate spokespersons come up with to hide the reality of what their paymasters are actually doing. Of course you prefer to describe Scouse and the other guys who do the same kind of work for you as self-employed contractors because that way, not only can your company dodge any tax, social security payments, pension contributions, and sickness and holiday payments that you would otherwise have to make, but you can also shirk your responsibilities towards them, including avoiding paying them compensation for any injury, incapacity or death that they might suffer. However, in every other way except the surface appearance and the - I’m sure - very careful wording on his contract, Scouse Davies was your employee.’