False Impression (31 page)

‘I didn’t see
anyone,’ said Anton.

‘You don’t see
him,’ said Anna. ‘You feel him.’ She paused. ‘And I was under the illusion that
I’d got rid of him.’

‘You haven’t,’
said Sergei as they drove off.

No one spoke for
the rest of the short journey to Anton’s home.

Once Sergei had
brought the car to a halt, Anna jumped out and followed Anton into the house.
He led her quickly up the stairs to an attic on the top floor. Although Anna
could hear the sound of Sibelius coming from a room below, it was clear that he
didn’t want her to meet his wife.

Anna walked into
a room crowded with canvases. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the painting
of Van Gogh, his left ear bandaged. She smiled. The picture was in its familiar
frame, inside the open red box.

‘Couldn’t be
better,’ said Anna. ‘Now all I have to do is make sure it ends up in the right
hands.’

Anton didn’t
comment, and when Anna turned round, she found him on his knees in the far
corner of the room, lifting up a floorboard. He reached inside and extracted a
thick envelope, which he slipped into an inside pocket. He then returned to the
red box, replaced the lid and began to hammer the nails back in place. It was
only too clear that he wanted to be rid of the painting as quickly as possible.
Once the final nail was secured, he lifted up the box and, without a word, led
Anna out of the room and back down the stairs.

Anna opened the
front door to allow Anton to step out onto the street. She was pleased to see
Sergei waiting by the back of the car, the trunk already open. Anton placed the
red box in the trunk and brushed his hands together, showing how happy he was
to be free of the painting. Sergei slammed the lid closed and returned to his
seat behind the wheel.

Anton extracted
the thick envelope from his inside pocket and handed it over to Anna.

‘Thank you,’ she
said, before passing across another envelope in exchange, but it was not
addressed to Anton.

He looked at the
name, smiled and said, ‘I’ll see she gets it.

Whatever it is
you’re up to,’ he added, ‘I hope it works out.’

He kissed her on
both cheeks before disappearing back into the house.

‘Where will you
stay tonight?’ asked Sergei as Anna joined him in the front of the car.

Anna told him.

W
hen Anna woke,
Sergei was sitting on the bonnet of the car, smoking a cigarette. Anna
stretched, blinked and rubbed her eyes.

It was the first
time she’d slept on the back seat of a car – a definite improvement on the back
of a van, somewhere on the way to the Canadian border, with no one to protect
her.

She got out of
the car and stretched her legs. The red box was still in place.

‘Good morning,’
said Sergei. ‘I hope you slept well?’

She laughed.
‘Better than you it seems.’

‘After twenty
years in the army, sleep becomes a luxury,’ said Sergei. ‘But please do join me
for breakfast.’ He returned to the car and retrieved a small tin box from under
the driver’s seat.

He removed the
lid and revealed its contents: two bread rolls, a boiled egg,
a
hunk of cheese, a couple of tomatoes, an orange and a
thermos of coffee.

‘Where did all
of this come from?’ asked Anna as she peeled the orange.

‘Last night’s supper,’
explained Sergei, ‘prepared by my dear wife.’

‘How will you
explain why you didn’t go home?’ Anna asked.

‘I’ll tell her
the truth,’ said Sergei. ‘I spent the night with a beautiful woman.’ Anna
blushed. ‘But I fear I am too old for her to believe me,’ he added. ‘So what do
we do next? Rob a bank?’

‘Only if you
know one with fifty million dollars in loose change,’ said Anna, laughing.
‘Otherwise I have to get that,’ she pointed to the crate, ‘into the cargo hold
on the next flight to London, so I’ll need to find out when the freight depot
opens.’

“When the first
person turns up,’ said Sergei as he removed the shell from the egg. ‘Usually
around seven,’ he added before handing the egg across to Anna.

Anna took a
bite. ‘Then I’d like to be there by seven, when they open/ she said, ‘so I can
be sure the crate is definitely on board.’

She looked at
her watch. ‘So we’d better get moving.’

1
don’t
think so.’

What do you
mean?’ asked Anna, sounding anxious.

‘When a woman
like you has to spend the night in a car, not a hotel, there has to be a
reason. I have a feeling that is the reason,’ said Sergei, pointing to the
crate. ‘So perhaps it would be unwise for you to be seen checking in a red box
this morning.’ Anna continued to stare at him, but didn’t speak. ‘Could there
possibly be something inside the box that you don’t want the authorities to
take an interest in?’ He paused, but Anna still didn’t comment.

‘Just as I
thought,’ said Sergei. “You know, when I was a colonel in die army, and I
needed something done that I didn’t want anyone else to know about, I always
chose a corporal to carry out the task.

That way, I
found, no one took the slightest interest. I think today I will have to be your
corporal.’

‘But what if
you’re caught?’

‘Then I’ll have
done something worthwhile for a change. Do you think
it’s
fun being a taxi driver when you’ve commanded a regiment? Do not concern
yourself, dear lady. One or two of my boys work in the customs shed, and if the
price is right, they won’t ask too many questions.’

Anna flicked
open her briefcase, took out the envelope Anton had given her and passed Sergei
five twenty-dollar bills.

‘No, no, dear
lady,’ he said, throwing his hands in the air. °
We
are
not trying to bribe the chief of police, just a couple of local boys,’ he
added, taking one of the twenty-dollar notes. ‘And in any case, I may be in
need of their services again at some time in the future, so we don’t want
expectations to exceed their usefulness.

Anna laughed.
‘And when you sign the manifest, Sergei, be sure your signature is illegible.’

He looked at her
closely. ‘I understand, but then I do not understand,’ he said, pausing. ‘You
stay here, and keep out of sight. All I’ll need is your plane ticket.’

Anna opened her
bag again, placed the eighty dollars back in the envelope and handed over her
ticket to London.

Sergei climbed
into the driver’s seat, turned on the engine and waved goodbye.

Anna watched as
the car disappeared round the corner with the painting, her luggage, her ticket
to London and twenty dollars. All she had as security was a cheese and tomato
roll and a thermos of cold coffee.

Fenston picked
up the receiver on the tenth ring.

‘I’ve just
landed in Bucharest,’ she said. The red crate you’ve been looking for was
loaded onto a flight to London, which will be landing at Heathrow around four
this afternoon.’

‘And
the girl?’

‘I don’t know
what her plans are, but when I do...’

‘Just be sure to
leave the body in Bucharest.’

The phone went
dead.

Krantz walked
out of the airport, placed the recently acquired cellphone under the front
wheel of an articulated truck and waited for it to move off before she slipped
back into the terminal.

She checked the
departures board, but this time she didn’t assume Petrescu would be travelling
to London; after all, there was also a flight to New York that morning. If
Petrescu was booked on that one, she’d have to kill her at the airport. It
wouldn’t be the first time – at this particular airport.

Krantz tucked
herself in behind a large drinks machine and waited. She made sure she had an
unimpeded view of any taxis dropping off their customers. She was only
interested in one taxi, and one customer. Petrescu wouldn’t fool her a second
time, because on this occasion, she intended to take out some insurance.

After thirty
minutes, Anna began to feel anxious.
After forty minutes,
worried.
After fifty, close to panic. An hour after he’d left,

Anna even
wondered if Sergei worked for Fenston. A few minutes later, an old yellow
Mercedes, driven by an even older man, came trundling round the bend.

Sergei smiled.
Tou look relieved,’ he said as he opened the front door for her and handed back
her ticket.

‘No, no,’ said
Anna, feeling guilty.

Sergei smiled.
The package is booked for London, and it’s on the same flight as you,’ he said
once he’d climbed back behind the wheel.

‘Good,’ said
Anna, ‘then perhaps it’s time for me to be on my way as well.’

‘Agreed,’ said
Sergei, turning the key in the ignition. ‘But you’ll have to be careful,
because the American is already there waiting for you.’

‘He’s not
interested in me,’ said Anna, ‘only the package.’

‘But he saw me
take it into the cargo depot, and for another twenty dollars he’ll know exactly
where it’s going.’

‘I don’t care
any longer,’ said Anna, without explanation.

Sergei looked
puzzled, but didn’t question her as he eased the Mercedes back onto the highway
and continued to follow the signs for the airport.

‘I owe you so
much,’ said Anna.

‘Four dollars,’
said Sergei, ‘plus gourmet meal. I’ll settle for five.’

Anna opened her
bag, took out Anton’s envelope, removed all but five hundred dollars and
resealed it. When Sergei came to a halt at the taxi rank outside the main
terminal, Anna passed him the envelope.

‘Five dollars,’
she said.

‘Thank you,
ma’am,’ he replied.

‘Anna,’ she
said, and kissed him on the cheek. She didn’t look
back,
otherwise she would have seen an old soldier crying.

Should he have
told her that Colonel Sergei Slatinaru was standing by her father’s side when
he was executed?

When Tina stepped
out of the elevator, she spotted Leapman leaving her office. She slipped into
the washroom, her heart beating frantically as she considered the consequences.
Did he now know that she could overhear every phone conversation Fenston had,
while at the same time being able to watch everything that was going on in the
chairman’s office? But worse, had he found out that she had been emailing
confidential documents to herself for the past year? Tina tried to remain calm
as she stepped back into the corridor and walked slowly towards her office. One
thing she was certain about, there would be no clue that Leapman had even
entered the room.

She sat at her
desk and flicked on the screen. She felt ill.

Leapman was in
the chairman’s office, talking to Fenston. The chairman was listening intently.

Jack watched as
Anna kissed the driver on the cheek, and couldn’t forget that this was the same
man who had extracted twenty dollars from him – a sum that wouldn’t be
appearing on his expense sheet. He thought about the fact that the two of them
had stayed awake all night while she had slept. If he’d dozed off, even for a
moment, Jack feared that Crew Cut would have moved in and stolen the crate,
although he hadn’t spotted her since she boarded the plane for London. He wondered
where she was now.

Not far away, he
suspected. As each hour had passed, Jack became more aware that he wasn’t just
dealing with a taxi driver, but someone willing to risk his life for the girl,
perhaps without even knowing the significance of what was in that crate. There
had to be a reason.

Jack knew it
would be a waste of time to try and bribe the taxi driver, as he had already
discovered to his own cost, but the cargo manager had beckoned him into his
private office and even printed out the relevant page of the manifest. The
crate was booked on the next flight to London. Already loaded on board, he
assured him.

Not a bad
investment for fifty dollars, even if he couldn’t read the signature. But would
she be on the same flight? Jack remained puzzled. If the Van Gogh was in the
red box on its way back to London, what was in the box that Petrescu had taken
to Japan and delivered to Nakamura’s office? He had no choice but to wait and
see if she boarded the same plane.

Sergei watched
as Anna walked towards the airport entrance, pulling her suitcase. He would
call Anton later, to let him know he had delivered her safely. Anna turned to
wave, so he didn’t notice a customer climb into the back of the car, until he
heard the door close. He glanced up at his rear-view mirror.

Where to,
madam?’ he asked.

The old
airport,’ she said.

‘I didn’t
realize it was still in service,’ he ventured, but she didn’t reply. Some
customers don’t.

When they
reached the second traffic island, Sergei took the next exit. He checked once
again in the mirror. There was something familiar about her – had she been in
the back of his cab before? At the crossroads, Sergei turned left onto the old
airport road. It was deserted. He’d been
right,
nothing had flown out of there since Ceaugescu had attempted to escape in
November 1989.