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The first real question was: ‘Do you think that your financial and analytical skills are appropriate for this position?’

‘Yes,’ Rafi answered, expecting a follow-up question.

‘Thank you,’ came the reply. ‘We do not have any more questions. Do you want to ask us anything?’

Rafi shook his head.

‘Good. On your way out, please pick up the envelope from the secretary next door. It contains your employment contract. Thank you for coming in.’

And that was it. Kate had a similar interview. Back at the flat, they went through the contents of their envelopes. Kate was bowled over by the hike in her salary. There was an accommodation allowance, a travelling to home allowance, even a clothing allowance. In her eyes the package was fantastic. Rafi’s package was practically identical, other than his basic salary, which was a couple of thousand Euros less, but in the small print he saw that he would be getting a special allowance which brought him to a financial parity. He smiled. It was a nice touch.

Their flight out of London City airport on the Friday was uneventful. Luxembourg from the air looked smaller than they’d expected. Jeremy was waiting for them and was on great form. He had been posted to the Embassy a couple of weeks earlier as a commercial attache. He showed them the sights and at Rafi’s request they visited the spot where Callum and the Mercedes had been found. Standing there, Rafi felt a pang of guilt. Next time he was in England he would visit Callum’s parents.

Kate and Rafi were eventually dropped at their hotel, with time to shower and dress for dinner.

‘What do you think?’ asked Kate. ‘Do I look smart enough?’

The dark emerald, satin dress fitted her perfectly. Her matching high heel shoes lifted her almost to Rafi’s height and accentuated her slim figure.

‘Wow, you look stunning. Yep, you’ll do very nicely!’

The dinner was held in a formal dining room. The Embassy had spared no expense. During the pre-dinner drinks Kate and Rafi were introduced to their prospective boss, Jorg Emcke. He was of average build and height, with receding hair – and introduced himself with great enthusiasm.

‘I heard you wanted to know what my English was like. It’s good, but I still find the English sense of humour impossible. But don’t worry; I enjoy a good laugh, particularly when it’s at the expense of those we catch!’

The individuals alongside whom they would be working looked genuinely unimpressive. They could have been having dinner with a team of auditors who were in the middle of a particularly dull company audit. However, Rafi soon found that appearances could be very deceptive.

The French police chief, Stephanie Doucet, looked incredibly businesslike. She was wearing a plain trouser suit and looked to be in her mid- to late forties. Rafi discovered that she had worked for the Parisian police force and then Europol and, like Kate, had specialised in criminal financial activities.

The Italian detective introduced himself as Celso Morassutti and his Polish counterpart was Ludomir Jablonkowski. Both, Rafi learned, had substantial experience of dealing with organised crime. The background of the three other men remained a mystery.

At dinner, Rafi’s suspicions were confirmed. He had had a feeling that the group had met before and were sizing up the two newcomers. There was great interest in the jobs he had done, but he sensed that they had been fully briefed and were only filling in the gaps. On the other side of the table, Kate was also being discreetly quizzed.

After the main course had been cleared away, Jorg stood up. ‘This will not be a long speech. A couple of hours should do!’ He winked at Kate. ‘Probably a lot less! As you know we’ve been tasked with advising the President of the Commission on what should be done to improve financial transparency. He wants there to be a level playing field, so that when EU tax harmonisation comes in, it will be harder for EU companies aviod paying their taxes. The sums involved are immense, as is the political will. Tens, if not hundreds, of billions of Euros per annum are involved. Our formal role is to be the data gatherers. Technically we will be part of the European Court of Auditors. Their offices are just around the corner in rue Alcide De Gasperi. We will therefore have excellent resources at our disposal.’ He paused and then went on. ‘This is the front under which we will be operating. Your real task is to understand how the criminal fraternity use the current opaqueness of the financial markets to assist them in their activities. While the ways of criminals and terrorists are not identical, the atrocity at Stratford has brought home the scale of the problems facing us. Our activities will remain covert – our aim is not to go out there and arrest people or close down bent corporations; it is to gather evidence that others will use to thwart the criminals and terrorists. I trust we shall all keep a low profile.’

Jorg studied Kate and then Rafi. ‘Seven of us have met before on several occasions. This evening we are joined by the last two members of our team. They perhaps look on the young side to us. However, their track record speaks for itself. They bring to the table cutting edge experience of the lengths to which terrorists and criminals will go in order to get their way. Their knowledge will complement our skills-base. You’re a team of equals – if there’s to be any pulling of rank that is my prerogative and my prerogative alone. Unless I hear any dissenting comments, I shall assume that you are all willing and happy to work together as a team.’

He looked around and then continued. ‘In that case, you will be expected to report for duty at our new offices a week on Monday. That, I trust, will give you sufficient time to sort out your affairs at home, to dust off your suitcases and to find suitable accommodation in Luxembourg.’

Jorg sat down, picked up a large cigar, chopped off the end, carefully lit it and started puffing as though he had no cares in the world – and smoking bans didn’t exist.

After dinner things became more informal. They were ushered into a comfortable sitting room where they chatted and bounced ideas around. Rafi looked around the room: there was definitely an esprit de corps. The special task force was up and running.

At just after 1 a.m., Jorg said he was calling it a night and left with a simple parting remark: ‘It has been a good evening. I look forward to seeing you all in our office on Monday week at 9 o’clock for a strategy meeting.’

It was almost 2 a.m. when Kate and Rafi walked back to their hotel.

The wind had a nip to it, but Rafi had a warm feeling inside him; it had been a fascinating and illuminating evening.

Back in the hotel room, Kate flipped off her shoes, sat suggestively on the corner of the bed and looked across at Rafi who had taken off his jacket.

‘What do you think of this situation we’ve got ourselves into?’ She sounded very excited. ‘I am the luckiest girl in the world. My two wishes have come true: a fantastic job where I can do something worthwhile and a man at my side for whom I would do anything…’

‘And what about my wish?’ enquired Rafi.

She smiled and looked into his dark eyes. ‘I wonder what that might be?’ She turned her back to him and said, ‘If you could help me with my zip…’ but let her voice trail off.

Rafi sat next to her, ran his fingers provocatively down her back and felt a small shudder race through her.

Kate stood up; her satin dress slipped silently to the floor, revealing her breasts enticingly covered by a lacy black bra, just inches from Rafi’s face.

Rafi sat still, taking in the sight before him. He was captivated.

‘Do you like…?’

Rafi pulled her forward and kissed her. The question was left unfinished.

He felt his shirt being unbuttoned; as it went over his head, he stood up and moved closer to her. Her body was warm against his. Their lips met again – her tongue danced provocatively between his lips. He could taste a hint of Cointreau.