Harper chucked the phone in the bin and set off across the courtyard. He attached himself to a group of students and walked the faculty corridors until he arrived at the lecture hall. He pulled down a squeaky seat at the back and waited. Students filed in, some speaking Cantonese, some Mandarin and some English. The blood on his hand had dried. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his head. But thoughts of Garrett fought their way into his mind, mixed in with an even worse darkness.
Kill him Misha.
A loud crackle of feedback from the speakers snapped him out of it and he sat up as a heavily-built man with slicked back grey hair marched onto the stage and clicked on his Powerpoint presentation. Harper watched as he scolded a girl in the front row for talking on her mobile phone. He stood scanning the rest of the crowd for any more offenders before stepping back up onto the stage.
“Ruminenko,” said Harper, under his breath. “I found you.”
Cohen opened his front door as Morton pulled into the drive. He looked up and down the road for any other cars, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Morton clicked his key fob at his car and walked past him into the front room. He shook hands with Russell, who was sitting nursing a cup of tea.
“You okay Guv?” said Cohen.
“Not really. I’ve just spoken to Harper.”
Cohen sat down in an armchair. “When is he coming back?”
“He’s not.”
“He’s not? I don’t understand.”
Morton pulled back the curtain to look out of the window. Cohen’s neighbor was knelt down pulling some weeds out of a flowerbed, but the rest of the street was quiet. “Have you had your place swept?”
“I did it myself. It’s clean.”
“Russell?”
“I got someone in from another force. Someone good. My place is clean too.”
Morton nodded and folded his arms. “He doesn’t think he’s going to be safe if he comes back. There are a lot of people that want him dead.”
“We can’t just leave him hanging out there,” said Cohen.
“I know,” replied Morton. “I want you two to go out there and find him. Try to talk some sense into him. I have some friends in the Hong Kong police that owe me a favour. They’ll help you out.”
“Are you coming with us?” said Russell.
“No. I’m going to try to track down whoever is responsible for all this at Vauxhall Bridge.”
“Is that wise now the top brass have washed their hands of it?” said Cohen.
“What else do you suggest? They’re out their trying to kill our boy and I’m supposed to sit back and do nothing. A criminal is a criminal whether they’re on Her Majesty’s Secret Service or not.”
“You’re right Guv. Just be careful.”
“Don’t worry about me. Just get out there as soon as you can and bring him back. I’m not going to hang Harper out to dry just because some politician plod has lost his bollocks.”
- Chapter 31 -
Nowhere Left to Run
Harper watched as the students buzzed around Ruminenko at the end of the lecture. The old man picked off their questions and sent them on their way before starting to gather up his materials. Harper stood up and walked down the steps towards him. He was tall and wore a shabby suit. He glanced at Harper as he got closer. “Can I help you?”
“I hope so.”
Ruminenko stopped what he was doing and turned to face him. “You don’t look like one of my students.”
“I’m not.”
“Then, who, may I ask, are you?”
“My name’s Matt Harper. I’m a police officer.”
“And British? What does a British police officer want with me?”
“I need to find Seva Vitsin.”
Ruminenko tried his best to look surprised, but Harper could see this was a situation he had been expecting. “Seva? I haven’t seen him for years. I’m afraid if you want to find him, your best bet is probably Moscow.”
“Professor, please. He is in danger. And so are you.”
“I would love to be able to help you officer, but I really have no idea where he is. Now if you would excuse me, I am a busy man.”
“Professor, wait, please.”
Ruminenko placed the remainder of his files into his briefcase and rushed off towards the exit. A couple of students were still hanging around outside the lecture hall and followed him up the corridor. Harper made his way outside and stood next to Ruminenko’s Renault. The professor looked hassled when he pushed open the double doors and made his way across the car park. He only noticed Harper when he got close to his car and a flash of anger crossed his face.
“I told you. I don’t know where he is and please don’t follow me.”
“You have to listen to me, professor, there are some ruthless people looking for Seva. You have to tell me where he is. It’s the only way you’re going to protect him…and yourself.”
Ruminenko dropped some of his papers as he searched around in his pockets for his car keys. “This is the last time I’m going to tell you. I don’t know where he is. Now leave me alone.”
Harper stepped aside and allowed the professor to get in his car. The Renault backed out and drove past a taxi rank and onto the main road. Harper got into a cab and shoved some money into the driver’s hand.
“Just follow that car.”
The driver turned down the chattering Cantonese on the radio and navigated the traffic, pushing past other cars when the Renault got too far ahead. The professor put his foot down as they hit the tunnel leading to Kowloon and the Chinese mainland. An orange glow filled the taxi as it increased its speed and kept the Renault in sight.
“Go to the toll booth on the end,” said Harper, as they emerged.
A few rows over, the professor tapped on the steering wheel impatiently. “Just let him overtake you,” said Harper, as they pulled off from the booth slightly ahead of Ruminenko. The professor kept his eyes on the road, unaware of the cab that had been following him across the city. They cruised along the highway until the Renault lurched off onto a slip road and entered the urban sprawl. Ruminenko drove for a few blocks and turned down a side-street, parking up at the entrance to a scruffy local market. Harper ducked down as they passed the car and drove to the end of the street. He paid the driver and set off in pursuit of the professor, who had disappeared into the throng.
“Cheap for you, cheap for you.” Harper put his finger to his lips as a trader spotted him approaching and waved a small Buddha statue at him. The message was ignored or lost in translation and the man persisted, pulling on Harper’s shirt as he walked past his stall. His sales pitch switched to anger as Harper slapped his hand away and shot him a hostile look. The nearby traders were watching and backed off. Harper stood on his tiptoes and looked around for Ruminenko’s shock of grey hair, but all he could see were locals. He went further into the chaos until he came to a crossroads. The market stalls stretched off in three directions. He stood looking around, but felt himself getting more desperate as he contemplated losing the professor. He span round ready to slap another hand as he felt a light tug on his shirt, but stopped when he saw a slight teenage girl looking up at him.
“You look for guilo?” said the girl, unintimidated. “You look for guilo?”
“The man with the grey hair,” said Harper, touching his head.
She nodded and held out her hand. Harper took some notes from his pocket and gave her a few, but she kept her hand where it was. He placed a few more in her palm and she reluctantly put them into her pocket.
“Cafe near tobacco stall,” she said, pointing down the row to the left.
Harper looked down the row. He could see a smoky haze surrounding one of the stalls in the distance. He started towards it, keeping an eye out for Ruminenko. The smell of flavoured tobacco seeped into his nostrils as he got closer. As he got a few stalls from the café, he looked over his shoulder and saw the girl with her hand again outstretched, talking to a group of foreigners. He ducked into a small shop and hid behind a purple banner covered in Chinese symbols. The owner paid little attention to him as he pretended to browse at the back. A steady flow of people floated past outside. Harper waited, looking through a small gap in the material, slowing his breathing. A European in a black jumper shot quickly past the shop and Harper struggled to see his face. He was closely followed by two more. Russians. Harper could see it in their features. Then a fourth man walked past and stopped directly outside the shop. Harper could only see the back of his head. He pointed his finger towards the café opposite the tobacco stand, signaling to the other men. Harper held his breath as the owner of the shop beckoned the man to come in and buy something. The Russian looked almost directly at Harper as he turned his head. This man he did recognise.