The Bergamese Sect (38 page)

‘
We’ll need more than just a stethoscope,’ said Walsh.

‘
Sure, he’s got access to all the latest hardware.’

‘
Really? And how did he get access to that?’

‘
I wonder,’ Lewis said sarcastically.

‘
I don’t like what you’re telling me, Jeff. This sounds like misappropriation.’

‘
It is. But like I say, we get the job done, and if that means losing a few bits of electronics along the way, we’re happy to be clumsy. You can strip us of our badges if you like when we find this Sebastian. But right now we need some help and Kaplan’s our only hope.’ Suddenly the agent’s expression broadened. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘if you’re going to expose this fraud, you’ll need some help doing it. I suggest Steve goes with you to New York. You’ll need him to contact Kaplan anyway. Plus, Steve can operate the equipment. I can handle the target myself; keep on top of him.’

Walsh looked worried. ‘The other subversive in this group? Is he in league with Sewell’s men as well?’

‘
Don’t know,’ Lewis replied. ‘But remember, they’ve already killed several of these subversives, so they’re obviously not all part of the conspiracy.’

‘
If we could be sure the target would be safe once the girl is gone, we could just take her out. But we can’t afford to leave him with the other man. He may be part of it too. We shouldn’t interfere with them, unless there’s a clear and imminent threat to the target, from either Sewell’s men or the subversives. Then we should extract him immediately and get him to safety. But as soon as we try that, Sewell will be aware of our presence and the target will be killed. We’ll only get one chance.’ Walsh paced back across the room, wiping a few beads of sweat from his forehead. ‘Shit,’ he said, ‘we’re right on top of this guy and we can do nothing to help. I wonder if he knows how important he is to the world’s sanity.’

Walsh returned to the chair and slumped into it despondently. He’d do anything to get some rest just now. Not just a few hours’ sleep, but that kind of rest when there was simply nothing to worry about. When you could while away the hours pottering around the house, sitting on the balcony with a cold
Coors
and a pointless paperback, or just taking a slow drive out to Maryland’s beaches. But such luxury was beyond him right now.

‘
Okay, so Steve’s going with you?’ It was Lewis breaking the silence.

‘
I guess,’ Walsh said, noting a nod of agreement from Linsky. ‘How long will it take to get back on the target’s trail?’

Lewis reached over the bed and made a grab for the GPS device. A worried crevasse rolled over his forehead as he held it in his lap. ‘Shit,’ he said, ‘they’re on the move.’

‘
What?’ said Linsky.

Lewis was still staring at the small display. ‘She’s moving… southeast… fast.’

Walsh stood, stepped over and snatched the device out of Lewis’ hands. On the display a black cross was flashing, notching across a grid of wandering lines. ‘Are they in a car?’ he asked.

Lewis shook his head then grabbed the receiver back. He watched the screen again. ‘No, at this speed it must be an aircraft.’ He pressed a few buttons. ‘Yeah,’ he went on, ‘it’s moving out of the airport, across the city.’

‘
Shit,’ said Walsh. ‘You’d better get after them.’

Lewis continued to stare at the moving icon. ‘I need to get airborne, quickly. It’s no use heading into Vancouver. Too far. I suppose I could get a flight from Calgary, if I knew where they were going.’

Walsh screwed up his face. ‘No. Charter a turboprop somewhere closer. Safer.’

Lewis nodded. ‘Er, I hardly like to mention this Larry,’ he said, ‘but how do I pay for it? Our Agency cards are disabled.’

Walsh smiled. ‘Okay, I have some things for you,’ he said. He reached inside his coat, drew out a bunch of papers and placed them on the chair. He fumbled in another pocket. ‘This is a prepaid phone,’ he said, tossing a neat blue mobile to Lewis. ‘It’s got an almost unlimited call credit. The number for my mobile is on the inside of the cover. Both phones have built-in scramblers; don’t use any other method of contacting me. You know as well as I that we’d be sitting ducks if we used an unsecured line. Sewell has control of the NSA, remember, or at least part of it.’

Walsh picked up the documents from the chair, began flicking through them, sorting them. He handed a pile to Lewis. ‘Two sets of passports and personal documents. Read the biographies, memorise them then destroy them.’ Taking his wallet from his trousers, he extracted two plastic cards. ‘These credit cards are good for 100,000 dollars. They’re untraceable, but use them sparingly; we all know how traceable an untraceable credit card is.’ He flashed a knowing smile at Lewis, then counted out a pile of money, folded it between a finger and thumb, and slipped the wad into Lewis’ top pocket. ‘Here’s 30,000 dollars in cash.’ He dropped the wallet back into his trousers, scooped up the remaining documents and crammed them back into his coat.

He turned back to Lewis. ‘You’ll need these.’ Pulling a small plastic wallet from his shirt pocket, he handed it to Lewis. ‘Identity cards; FBI, CIA, DEA, NYPD and a few others. Again, try not to use them too often; you don’t want a curious desk sergeant deciding to check with some head office somewhere. Stay away from the police and anyone else in uniform.’

Lewis was grinning. ‘Larry,’ he interrupted, ‘Larry, I know. Really, I know.’

‘
Sorry, Jeff. This is important. Sewell’s men are on top of this guy and my hands are tied. Just keep in touch. Protect this man with your life, but don’t let Sewell’s men suspect you’re with them.’

‘
Don’t worry.’ Lewis’ voice was full of reassurance. ‘I won’t let you down. I already have an idea of how to get rid of Sewell’s men. To isolate the target.’

Walsh sat once again. ‘What’s your plan?’

‘
I said I had an idea. I’ll let you know when it’s an actual plan.’ Lewis was smiling like a hyena.

‘
This is serious, Jeff. Don’t play games. We’re on a back foot here against a formidable enemy. We don’t need ill-conceived bravado.’

Lewis stood and slipped the plastic wallet into his dark jeans. ‘Assistant Director, you can rely on me,’ he said. ‘I’m a professional.’

Walsh sighed through a smile. He had to agree with him.

Chapter 22

The man at the reception desk put the phone down as Matt approached and smiled. ‘Yes, sir?’ he said.

‘
I’ve got a reservation – Duncan Talbot.’

The receptionist fingered his keyboard for a moment then turned back to Matt. ‘Yes, if you’d just fill this out.’ He handed Matt a registration form and a pen with the hotel logo emblazoned on it. ‘Can I take a swipe of your credit card, Mr Talbot?’

Matt felt a momentary panic. ‘Er,’ he said, ‘I’m afraid my cards have been stolen. I’ll be paying cash.’

The hotelier’s face didn’t show any sympathy for his guest’s predicament. He visually tutted and gave Matt a cold stare. ‘Very well, Mr Talbot,’ he said sharply.

Matt finished filling in the form and handed it back. The man typed away on his computer. Then he thrust a plastic key-card into a small card envelope and threw it on the counter. ‘Room 122,’ he said, pointing to the elevators. ‘First floor.’

Matt felt a gush of relief in his stomach. He glanced over at the elevator and nodded at Clara and Henric who were skulking nearby. He grabbed the key, turned and began walking toward them.

‘
Mr Talbot,’ a voice cried.

Matt almost didn’t realise the shout was directed at him. He turned to see the clerk beckoning him back to the counter.

‘
There’s a message for you, Mr Talbot.’

‘
Really?’

‘
Here.’ The clerk thrust him a small Manila envelope, then looked down at the desk.

The envelope was bare apart from the name ‘Duncan Talbot’ typed on the front. Matt resisted the temptation to tear it open. He looked around nervously. A few people were wandering in and out of the hotel, a man was sitting reading a magazine, but none struck him as suspicious. He crammed the envelope in his pocket and sauntered over to the elevator.

―
§ ―

As the elevator doors closed on the three figures, a pair of dark eyes watched them. The eyes stared out from behind a copy of
Forbes
magazine, though the head in which they sat appeared to be totally engrossed in the financial insight offered by the glossy pages. The man was sitting in an armchair beneath a potted palm tree, expertly arranged to hide the salient features of his scant form. He wore dark clothes, a padded jacket and lightweight moleskin trousers, black and shiny.

Jeff Lewis had been sitting in the hotel lobby for just half an hour. The target had been hanging around in the bar before checking in. He looked even more dishevelled than when he’d brushed past them at Krakow airport, exactly a week ago.

The rush to Miami had been impressive. After leaving Linsky and Walsh at the motel room in Golden, Lewis had headed east toward Calgary, his eyes ever watchful on the moving blip on the tracking device. Its constant motion bothered him. Without knowing their destination, he might never catch up. Suddenly, he’d decided to change tactics.

He’d pulled into Banff, found an Internet café in a downtown mall and got online – the GPS device lying next to a powerful PC in a quiet corner of the bar. It had been almost three hours since he’d noticed the girl was moving. Now she’d passed close to Las Vegas and had slowed. He’d watched as the aircraft on which she sat took wide, sweeping turns around northern Arizona and then straightened out. Within ten minutes, the icon on the screen had halted.

Pulling up a map server in his browser, he’d typed in the coordinates that were flashing on the GPS. A map had popped up on the screen. The group had landed in Phoenix. He’d nearly got up then, ready to find a charter company to get him down to Arizona, but he’d turned back to the computer, suddenly apprehensive. It would be safer to wait until they left the airport. That way, if they jumped on another flight, he’d be able to find where they were going.

His instincts hadn’t failed him. Within an hour, the blip on the GPS had begun moving again, tracking rapidly to the east. Quickly, he’d found a real-time flight tracking website, paid his subscription by credit card, and installed the package on the PC. Firing up the software, he’d zoomed in on the location given by the GPS device, and seen a small icon of an aircraft floating above Arizona. He’d watched it for twenty minutes, comparing its changing coordinates with his own. It was certainly their flight. Clicking on the aircraft icon, the flight details had popped up in a window. They were heading for Miami.

Ignoring Walsh’s insistence that he use a rural charter company, he’d driven down the Trans-Canadian Highway as fast as he dared and burst into the offices of an executive airline at Calgary airport. ‘What’s the fastest jet you’ve got?’ he’d cried to the man at the counter. They’d been shocked, but within thirty minutes, Lewis was sitting alone in the plush business cabin of a huge Gulfstream V, shooting into the vast blueness above the US border.

Lewis waited for the elevator door to close before standing quickly. He tossed the magazine into a trashcan, picked up his heavy shoulder bag and wandered over to the reception desk.

The clerk was busy writing something. Lewis glanced at his watch. It was just after ten o’clock. Walsh and Linsky would probably be back in New York by now, but Lewis felt confident that they hadn’t yet revealed themselves. The target should be safe for the time being; at least until Walsh said otherwise. But he’d have to watch the target very carefully, be ready to act.

The clerk finished what he was doing and looked up.

Pulling out his fake FBI identity card, Lewis flashed it at him and said, ‘the man who’s just checked in – what room is he in?’

The man’s face screwed up. ‘Is there a problem? Shall I call the Police?’ He reached over for the telephone, but Lewis grabbed his wrist.

‘
No, really, there’s no problem. Don’t call anyone. Just the room number, please.’ Lewis pulled the hand back to the desk.

‘
Er… 122,’ the clerk replied, checking the computer screen.

Lewis nodded and gave the clerk an intense look. It reaffirmed his demand that no one should be called. That the clerk should ignore Lewis’ presence. The clerk gave an expression of compliance and watched as Lewis headed toward the elevator.

―
§ ―

Outside room 124, Lewis fumbled inside his shoulder bag. He pulled out a small box the size of a paperback. A tongue of cables stuck out of its top and on their end was a plastic card. He slotted the card into the door lock and pressed a button on the box. A click sounded and a tiny green light shone on the handle.

Lewis pushed gently on the door and stepped inside. The room was unoccupied. He put the ‘don’t disturb’ sign on the outer handle and closed the door quietly, locking it on the inside and pulling the safety bar over its latch.

Moving quickly into the room, he reached inside his jacket, pulled out his gun and wallet and tossed them on the bed. He threw the jacket over them then rummaged again in his shoulder bag. The object he pulled out this time was like a small tape recorder. Attached to it were two leads with suction pads on the ends. He stuck them gently to the wall about six feet apart then put a set of earphones on.

Lewis crouched by the wall. He heard the girl’s voice rumbling through the dense brick. It was surprisingly clear, unmuffled.

‘
Okay,’ she said, ‘give me the envelope.’

A man’s voice cut through her words with a strong English accent. ‘Hold on, this is addressed to me.’

‘
No it’s not. It’s addressed to Duncan Talbot.’

‘
Still, I’m opening it,’ the Englishman replied.