Tracers (24 page)

As they climbed back in the car, Joanne’s phone rang, muffled inside her rucksack. She dug it out and peered at the caller display. It was an unlisted number. She looked at Harry in confusion. ‘I have no idea who this is. I only switched it on a short while ago.’

‘Answer it,’ Harry suggested. If it wasn’t a telesales call or a wrong number, he had a good idea who the caller might be.

She asked who was speaking and her face went pale. ‘
It’s Rafa’i
,’ she mouthed, then replied in a brief rattle of Arabic. Moments later, she began again, then stopped. The call had been cut short. ‘I think he was scared we might be monitored. I asked him where he was, but he wouldn’t say. He wants to meet me.’

‘Where and when?’

‘He told me some time ago that there was one particular place he wanted to visit if he came to London. He’d seen it on television and liked the open space. Without naming it just now, he said we should meet there tomorrow morning at ten.’

Harry made a guess at the biggest open space he could think of. ‘Hyde Park?’

‘No. St James’s Park and Horse Guards Parade. Near the lake.’

Harry considered it. Was it genuine or was it an elaborate set-up to draw Joanne into a trap? The area was open, from what he recalled, and dotted with trees. It was also well publicized on tourist sites worldwide. If Rafa’i was as well read as Joanne had implied, he’d be aware of it. He might even have watched the Trooping of the Colour on television. There were several approaches to the area and it was easily overlooked, which could be both a benefit and a danger, depending on whose side you were on. ‘You’re sure it was him?’

‘Yes. I recognized his voice.’

‘How did he sound?’

‘Stressed.’

‘I’m not surprised. If it was me, I’d be going mental.’

‘What do we do?’

Harry started the car. ‘You want to help him, don’t you?’

‘Of course.’

‘Then that’s what we’ll do.’

THIRTY-NINE

R
ik spotted Rafa’i first. The Iraqi was moving around the northern perimeter of the lake, apparently deep in thought. But his nervousness was obvious in the jerky movements of his head. He was hovering in the wake of a group of Japanese girls giggling and taking snapshots of the ducks on the water, the birds parading brazenly for titbits from passers-by.

‘By the lake, north side. He’s early and using cover,’ said Rik. He was following the Iraqi’s progress through a pair of binoculars, his mobile on hands-free in his top pocket. Rafa’i wore a white shirt and dark slacks, and had it not been for the bandage over his right hand and the dark patch beneath one eye, could have been any other casual visitor enjoying the cool air of a weekday morning in central London.

‘OK. Keep him in sight.’ Harry’s voice came through flat and low. He was standing on Horse Guards Parade, to the east of the park where he could watch the northerly approaches. The time was just coming up to 09.45. ‘Has Joanne seen him yet?’

Joanne was sitting alone on the grass at the very end of the lake, in a triangular area between the water, some large flowerbeds and the Guards’ Memorial. Her back was to Horse Guards Parade. She had a camera and occasionally pretended to take a photo, turning her body when a view seemed to appeal to her. Then she held the camera to her eye and focussed on a spot by the lake for several seconds.

It was the signal to Rik, who was closest, that she had seen and recognized the former cleric.

‘OK, she’s got him.’

Rafa’i slowed deliberately, allowing the Japanese girls to pull away from him. He stood by the fencing around the lake and stared into the water. Then he disappeared from sight for a while as he moved behind a section of bushes close to a lakeside cafeteria. When he appeared again, another group of tourists had moved along the path towards him and were stopping for a photo call. Laughing and pushing, they formed a ragged line and grinned at their guide, who was taking snaps with their cameras.

When they dispersed and moved away, Rafa’i had gone.

‘
Damn
– where is he?’ Rik muttered. ‘Something must have spooked him.’ He scanned the grass and pathway around the area, sweeping beyond Joanne’s position and focussing on the people in the background for signs of a figure hurrying away from the park. But his view was blocked by the tourists as they swung after their guide and approached his position between the parade ground and Birdcage Walk.

‘I’m unsighted,’ Harry told him. ‘The memorial’s in the way.’

‘It’s OK, I’ve got him.’ Rik gave a sigh of relief. ‘He’s approaching Joanne’s position now.’

They were both tense, checking the area for signs of watchers, knowing this was the time of maximum threat. If the killer knew Rafa’i was here, he could make an approach from almost any direction. If he was determined enough, he might even make his play now, rather than waiting for a more convenient opportunity.

Rafa’i approached to within a few feet of Joanne. He looked nervous, but must have spoken, because Joanne looked up and smiled, then gestured to the grass alongside her.

But Rafa’i shook his head and pointed towards the Mall. He wanted to move away from the lake, and into the illusory safety of the trees. For once, Joanne seemed unsure. She hesitated, almost glancing at Rik, which would have been a mistake, then shook her head. Rafa’i responded with an emphatic jerk of his hand.

He was too scared of the open. He wanted to find cover.

From his position on the open parade ground, Harry was watching the people nearby, scanning faces and checking body language.

He had discounted a car attack as impractical; it was too easy to get snarled up in this area, with no guaranteed way out. Similarly, another motorbike, although ideal as an attack vehicle with its speed and manoeuvrability, would stand out too much in this environment.

That left someone on foot. Although still early for the bulk of tourists, there was an alarming number of them moving through the area, any one of which could be a potential threat.

He concentrated on single walkers, dismissing the elderly or infirm, anyone who didn’t fit the bill of an agile and capable assassin. Pinstripe suits abounded, briefcases in hand, and smart office workers hurried across the open expanse of the parade ground. Nobody stopping, nobody loitering suspiciously. It was all very normal.

He swung back to Joanne. She seemed to be in urgent discussion with Rafa’i, leaning forward as if to emphasize a point. The Iraqi was shaking his head, casting glances around him as if looking for someone. Joanne must have broached the matter of Harry and Rik, as they had planned. He evidently wasn’t impressed.

Then Joanne gave another prearranged signal. She waved her hand in a lazy motion around her head as if brushing away flies. It was the signal to move in, but slowly. If they could talk to him, they might manage to convince him of their desire to help. If not, he would keep on running until the killer caught him.

Harry began walking across the parade ground towards them, skirting a group of American ladies. He saw Rik break cover to his left and move across the grassy area around the lake. In the background was the gingerbread-like building that was Duck Island Cottage. They each had over two hundred metres to cover before they reached Joanne and Rafa’i.

The gap had narrowed to fifty metres when a flock of pigeons burst noisily into the air by the lake. It was on the perimeter path where Rafa’i had first appeared. Simultaneously, a group of tourists separated in a flurry of squeals and laughter, driven apart by the sudden noisy take-off of the birds. It left a gap showing the perimeter path and the stretch of park beyond.

A lone figure was walking towards them.

He was of medium height, slim and lithe, dressed in dark jeans and a black anorak, and had one hand tucked into a side pocket. Something about the man’s appearance set alarm bells ringing in Harry’s head. Then he realized what it was: unlike everyone else in the immediate vicinity, the man had shown no reaction to the flurry of birds moving off. He was focussed solely on a point in front of him, face pinched in concentration.

He was looking directly at Joanne and Rafa’i.

‘
We’ve got company!
’ Harry said urgently, and saw Rik lift his hand in acknowledgement.

They both started running.

Joanne, her attention drawn by the birds, had spotted him, too, because in the same instant, she rose to her feet. Reaching out and grabbing Rafa’i’s hand, she began dragging him away towards the south side of the park and Birdcage Walk. He resisted slightly, but she spoke to him and pointed with her camera at the man in the anorak. Whatever she said was clearly enough to persuade Rafa’i to go with her.

The man in the anorak broke into a fast jog, scattering tourists and more birds. He disappeared behind the bushes for a few moments, then came back into view, covering the ground with surprising speed. It was obvious that he was fit and agile and would soon run down the Iraqi, who was having trouble moving quickly, his movements stiff and awkward.

Harry veered to intercept the newcomer. He shouted a warning, causing a few nearby tourists to spin round. Someone laughed, as if unsure whether this wasn’t some unusual tourist event for their benefit. A burst of Japanese echoed after the attacker as he elbowed aside a short, squat lady festooned with cameras.

At that moment, the man spotted Harry. He increased his pace, jumping over a couple sitting on the grass, one hand still in his pocket.

Harry knew he wasn’t going to make it in time. He wasn’t a fast enough runner and the angle was all against him. The attacker’s line of approach meant he was drawing ahead and was now within striking distance of Rafa’i, who was still struggling to keep up with Joanne in spite of her hold on his arm.

Then Rik appeared. He was on a collision course with the attacker. Before the man realized he was vulnerable, Rik had hurdled the metal fencing around the grass and struck him with his shoulder, driving the attacker off his feet and sending him spinning away across the ground with a savage
whoosh
of expelled breath.

‘Keep going!’ Rik yelled to Joanne. He was wincing and holding his shoulder, but was able to stay on his feet. He turned to face the attacker, who had rolled away and was getting to his feet, struggling for breath. When he took his hand out of his pocket, he was holding a foldaway knife.

He flicked it open, the blade glinting in the sun.

FORTY

H
arry drove on, his breathing becoming harsh. His knees were hurting and he had a pain building in his chest, and he wondered why he hadn’t kept up a better level of fitness. He swore loudly in frustration.

It was enough to make the knife man turn his head. When he saw how close Harry was, he stopped and thrust out the knife, gesturing at them with a short stabbing motion, his face empty of emotion. Then, before either of them could get any closer, he turned and raced away and was soon lost among the walkers around the south side of the lake.

‘Rik . . . you all right?’ Harry skidded to a halt alongside him. He saw a flash of colour in the background as a police patrol car turned into Horse Guards Road. ‘Heads up – police.’ If the police stopped them, they could be tied up for hours answering pointless questions.

Rik bent and rubbed his side. ‘I’m fine. Just winded.’

‘Same here. If they stop us, it was a mugging that went wrong, OK? The victims ran off, too. We can’t let them take Rafa’i or Joanne in for questioning.’

‘Fair enough.’ Rik took a whooping breath of air and winced. ‘Shit . . . I think I did a rib in. That bastard was as hard as nails. It was like running into a tree. I wonder why he backed off.’

Harry shrugged. ‘Maybe he didn’t like the odds. We were lucky he didn’t have anything more lethal than a blade.’

The police car drifted to a stop alongside them, the passenger window dropping.

‘Everything all right, sir?’ The officer in the passenger seat studied them coolly. His driver was using his radio, but didn’t appear unduly concerned. In the background, a woman officer was watching from a wooden police box behind one of the government buildings.

Harry wondered how much she had seen. ‘No problem,’ he replied. ‘A bloke ran towards a couple and my friend thought he was after a handbag. It was a mistake.’ He gestured towards Rik, who was still looking winded. ‘He got a stitch trying to play Superman.’

‘If you say so, sir.’ The policeman considered it for a moment, then said something to his driver. The car surged away, leaving them alone.

‘Close,’ said Rik, and took a series of deep breaths.

‘Yeah. Come on.’ Harry turned towards Birdcage Walk. ‘Let’s catch up with our runaway Iraqi.’

They followed the direction in which Joanne had hustled Rafa’i, and found her standing alone on the edge of Parliament Square. She looked annoyed and confused, but far from frightened.

‘He bloody pulled away from me,’ she explained angrily, gesturing towards the square, ‘and jumped in a cab.’ She rolled her eyes towards two policemen walking along the pavement fifty yards away. ‘If they hadn’t shown up, I’d have dragged his arse back out and sat on him until you got here.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Harry said, glancing back towards the park. He was worried that the man with the knife would show up again. Given his past performance in dealing with his targets, he was unlikely to give up merely because they had inconveniently got in the way. ‘Come on, let’s find somewhere to talk.’

He led them across the square and down the steps by the Embankment to Westminster Pier. A number of Thames excursion cruisers were loading passengers nearby, but where they were standing, in the shadow of a statue of Boadicea, they were as good as alone.

He stopped and turned to Joanne. ‘Did you call anyone and tell them where you were meeting Rafa’i?’

‘Call who? I don’t know anyone.’ She looked angry at the suggestion, her jaw clenched tight under the skin.