‘When did you first suspect me?’
‘I’ve always suspected you, even if it was just a nagging doubt in the back of my mind. It was something Leitzig said which really got me thinking. He said part of the reason for his being planted here was to employ Hendrique’s four technicians to help him, along with the drivers and guards who were also involved in the diversion. You told me at the Hilton you were in charge of hiring, amongst others, the drivers and the guards. It was a matter of putting two and two together.’
‘I’m impressed,’ she said without sounding it. ‘You’re right, of course. I employed all the staff vetted by Hendrique without any of them suspecting I was anything other than the head of the PR department. It’s been the perfect cover – only four other people know about it. Werner, Hendrique, Frankie and my handler.’
‘What about Leitzig?’
‘Leitzig?’ she scoffed. ‘One of the reasons for my being here was to monitor the diversion’s progress and report it directly to my handler. If Leitzig had known I was watching him he’d probably have panicked. As far as he was concerned he was the kingpin in the plant itself. All our staff worked for him. He paid them and if any of them got greedy he’d call in Hendrique.’
‘What about his predecessor? Did Hendrique kill him?’
‘He wasn’t greedy, he just refused to cooperate. He also threatened to expose the diversion plot before it had even begun. Hendrique killed him and made it look like a skiing accident.’
Her smile was apologetic. ‘I think I’ve answered enough of your questions.’
She took a step back and extended the Browning at arm’s length, the muzzle aimed at the centre of Whitlock’s forehead. Her finger curled around the trigger. He stared at the Browning, transfixed, knowing he could never reach it before she pulled the trigger. Her wrist flexed in the second before she fired. The bullet took the guard in the chest, knocking him back against the wall. She fired again and the guard toppled face down on to the catwalk. The Jatimatic came to rest inches from Whitlock’s feet.
‘You could try,’ she said, watching his flickering eyes. ‘Otherwise kick it over the side.’
He brushed it off the catwalk with the side of his foot.
‘This section of the plant’s not in operation tonight and even if someone should go past they wouldn’t hear a thing. It’s soundproof. We’re all alone.’
Whitlock looked down at the dead man. ‘You’ve got a strange way of repaying loyalty.’
‘I told you, he worked for Leitzig, not for me. Anyway, he knew about my cover. I had to confide in him to get him to help me. Actually, it’s worked out rather well. The guard catches you snooping in an unauthorized area of the plant and in the ensuing struggle he’s shot and you lose your footing, falling to your death. It’s not very original but quite effective nevertheless.’
‘And what if I manage to keep my footing?’
‘Then I’ll shoot you. It might spoil my little scenario but at least you won’t have to worry about it.’
‘Such consideration.’ He moved to the railing and peered down at the tranquil water seventy feet below. ‘Can I ask one final question?’
‘Ask.’
‘Who exactly are you working for?’
‘KGB, Department S. I was recruited at university and I’ve been working for them ever since.’
Her voice became strangely hollow. ‘I’ve only got one regret about all of this, that we never made love last night.’
‘Well, it would have saved you the bother of tonight’s trip.’
‘I couldn’t have killed you then,’ she said quietly. ‘I wanted you so much.’
‘We could try–’
‘Don’t mock me,’ she erupted, then levelled the Browning at his chest. ‘I’ll shoot if you haven’t jumped in ten seconds.’
He turned his head to look at the pond below, then clutched his neck, his face twisted in pain. Massaging the back of his neck his fingers felt for the sheathed stiletto he had strapped underneath his collar before leaving the hotel. He had rehearsed the move countless times on a dummy in front of his bedroom mirror back home but it was the first time he would be putting it into practice. Surprise and accuracy were vital if it were to succeed; the slightest misjudgement would cost him his life. He gripped the hilt then tilted his head fractionally so he could unsheath the knife cleanly and follow through in one fluid movement.
She saw the glint of the blade at the last second but instead of firing she instinctively tried to get a better grip on the Browning. The finely-sharpened blade sliced across the back of her hand. She screamed, dropped the Browning, then stumbled backwards clutching her bleeding hand to her stomach. He saw what happened next as if it were in a slow-motion replay. She backed against the railings and lost her footing, toppling backwards but grabbing on to one of the vertical struts with her injured hand. She managed to get her other hand around the railing, then glanced down at the water seventy feet below her.
‘Don’t look down!’ he shouted.
Only her hands were visible above the level of the catwalk.
‘Give me your hand.’
‘I can’t, they’re slipping,’ she screamed, her bloodied hands unable to get a grip on the smooth railing. ‘Help me, for God’s sake help me.’
He reached down between the struts and grabbed one of her wrists with both hands, but even as he took the strain the blood was already acting as a lubricant between their skins. He dug his fingers mercilessly into her flesh and in a last, desperate bid to hold on she released her grip on the now sticky railing and clasped her hands, one at a time, around his wrists. He tried to pull her up but her hands were slipping all the time. Then, suddenly, she dropped her injured hand to her side, unable to bear the pain any longer. Her wrist slipped through his hands and as she dug her fingers into his palms he caught sight of her wide, pleading eyes staring up at him. Then the contact broke. He turned away sharply as she plunged backwards into space.
He finally stood up and looked down. She was floating face down in the pond, only her white leathers visible above the surface of the water.
He removed the ID disc from the dead guard’s pocket to use to open the door then picked up his Browning and made his way towards the ladder.
After locking the storage pond door behind him he walked down the corridor and out into the night. He drove the Cavalier slowly down the driveway until he came to the boomgate where a guard emerged from the hut and glanced at his pass. Even if his pass had been revoked no guard would bother checking the list against outgoing vehicles.
‘You haven’t seen another guard dressed like me, have you? Only when I came on duty a few minutes ago this place was unmanned. Anyone could have got in.’
‘No, sorry,’ Whitlock replied with an apologetic smile.
The guard activated the boomgate.
Whitlock’s next stop would be the hospital to check on Leitzig’s condition. The last he heard, Leitzig was off the critical list. The sooner he got the names of Leitzig’s fellow conspirators the sooner he could file his last report to Philpott.
Then back to New York.
Back to Carmen.
Eleven
An airport official telephoned the helicopter pilot at 4.15 the following morning to tell him the fog had lifted sufficiently over the Adriatic for him to attempt the flight to Dubrovnik. Within ten minutes he, Graham and Sabrina had checked out of the hotel and within twenty-five minutes air traffic control had given the helicopter clearance for takeoff. As soon as they were airborne Graham and Sabrina removed wetsuits from the holdall which had been left, on their instructions, in a locker at the airport. In the confined space it was no easy task to strip down to the T-shirt and shorts they were wearing underneath their thick winter clothes and pull on the suits.