‘Put it on,’ Young said.
‘Why? I’ve already got a watch.’
‘Put it on,’ Young repeated.
‘What’s the catch?’
‘It’s another little insurance policy against you running out on me now that you’ve got the money,’ Young told him. ‘It has a small homing device built into it. I have the receiver in my pocket.’
‘In other words, I’m being tagged?’
‘As a precaution, that’s all,’ Wiseman said. ‘Forty thousand pounds is a lot of money, Mr. Alexander. We don’t want you to be tempted into doing something you’ll regret.’
‘And if I refuse?’
Young smiled. ‘Then the gun will be left in a convenient place for the police to find. And you’ll be handed over to the authorities when we reach Rome. A stowaway.’
Whitlock unstrapped his own watch and snapped the other watch over his wrist. Young took a miniature black transmitter from his jacket pocket and placed it on the table.
‘The back of the watch has been packed with a highly concentrated plastic explosive. It works in conjunction with the transmitter. It can be triggered in three different ways. Firstly, by attempting to remove the watch from your wrist. Secondly, if the button on the transmitter is depressed. And thirdly, if the watch and the transmitter are ever more than three miles apart. The charge is certainly big enough to blow off part of your arm. Potentially it could kill you, depending on where your wrist was at the time of the explosion.’
‘I don’t believe this–’ Whitlock trailed off, his eyes blazing.
‘I can understand your resentment, Mr. Alexander–’
‘No you can’t,’ Whitlock interceded angrily. ‘You can’t begin to understand it. I’ve been abducted, drugged, framed, threatened and now tricked into wearing some booby-trapped wristwatch. I’ve agreed to go along with you what more do you want from me? If you want me to drive for you, Young, you neutralize this device first.’
Young shook his head.
‘It stays on until this is over. And as I’m the one who set the charge, I’m the only one who knows how to neutralize it. You’re stuck with it, Alexander. At least for the time being.’
‘And you go along with that?’ Whitlock asked Wiseman.
Wiseman nodded. ‘If that’s what Vie wants. It’s his operation, he calls the shots. I’ll merely be an observer, that’s all.’
‘I don’t trust you, Alexander. But at least this way I know I can depend on you to be where I want you when I want you. Unless, of course, you’re willing to lose your arm for the sake of forty thousand pounds. Personally I credit you with a bit more intelligence than that.’
The pilot’s voice came over the intercom asking them to fasten their seatbelts as he was about to start the final descent into Rome.
Whitlock snapped the belt shut across him then stared at the watch. They had him exactly where they wanted him. At least for the time being…
Philpott answered the telephone on his desk.
‘I’ve got a Major Lonsdale from Scotland Yard’s anti-terrorist squad on the line, sir,’ Sarah told him.
‘Put him through.’
She connected them, then replaced her receiver.
‘Colonel Philpott?’
‘Speaking. I’ve been expecting a call from you for the past two hours. What happened? Did C.W. get away all right?’
‘That all went fine. He should be touching down in Rome about now.’
‘So why the delay?’ Philpott asked.
Lonsdale explained what had happened, including the discovery of Humphries’ body by the local CID in Stoke Newington.
‘Are the boy and his mother all right?’ Philpott asked anxiously.
‘They’re both fine.’
‘Why did Young pick them?’
‘Harris knows the boy’s father, Wendell Johnson–’
‘Who’s Harris?’ Philpott cut in.
‘He was the other man Young hired to help him spring Alexander.’
‘The one you picked up yesterday?’
‘That’s right,’ Lonsdale replied. ‘It seems Young wanted a hostage to force the police guards to release Alexander. But he knew abducting someone in the street would be too dangerous. That’s when Harris came up with Mary Robson and her boy.’
‘Did Harris tell you this?’
‘Yes.’
‘How did Young get hold of the police car and the uniforms?’
‘He hired the uniforms from a theatrical company. He made a bogus call to the police to lure the police car on to a housing estate in Lambeth. The two of them overpowered the driver and left him tied up in an empty flat on the estate. Whitlock was sprung half an hour later.’
‘How did they get C.W. on to the plane?’
‘Wiseman’s private Lear jet was parked at an American airbase. The sentry on duty at the gate is certain there were only two men in Wiseman’s official car when it arrived at the base. Wiseman and the driver.’
‘Who must have been Young?’
‘The description certainly matches the American who helped spring Whitlock from the police van. We didn’t push it any further in case word got back to Wiseman. The logical conclusion is that Whitlock was in the boot, unconscious, when the car arrived at the base.’
‘I appreciate your help, Major Lonsdale.’
‘Not at all.’
‘I’ll call you to tell you when you can release Alexander back into the custody of the police.’
‘Fine. We’ll keep him entertained until then.’
Philpott hung up, then asked Sarah to get him Kolchinsky’s hotel in Rome.
Paluzzi had called Nikki Karos from Rome to find out whether he would be able to see them that afternoon. He had refused to elaborate further over the telephone and Karos had told him they were welcome to fly to the island to see him, though he doubted he would be of much assistance to them.
They had flown in a NOCS Cessna as far as the capital, Corfu, where they had transferred to an Alouette helicopter and completed the twelve miles to Karos’s mansion on the slopes of Mount Aji Deka, arriving mid-afternoon.
Marco executed a perfect landing within a few feet of the white Mercedes parked on the edge of the helipad. The driver stood beside it, a holstered Bernadelli visible on his belt. Graham and Paluzzi alighted from the helicopter. The driver took their Berettas, saying they would be returned when they left the island. He ushered them into the car, then got behind the wheel and drove the five hundred yards to the Spanish-style mansion which was set against the side of the mountain and supported by four thick concrete pylons driven down forty feet into the base of the rock. A butler, complete with white gloves, accompanied them to a glass-walled lift which ran up the end wall of the building.
He pressed a button and they were transported to the roof. The doors opened on to a spacious terrace dominated by an Olympic-size swimming pool. The butler retreated to bring drinks, and they crossed to a railing which ran the length of the terrace to examine the breathtaking view. The village and the tranquil Khalikiopoulos Lagoon stood in the foreground, with Mount Pantokrator, the island’s highest mountain, and the rugged Albanian ranges in the distance. It all seemed very peaceful.
Graham moved to the swimming pool and tested the water with his fingertips. It was warm. Then, as he stood up, he noticed the row of glass tanks built into the wall to the left of the lift. Each of the six tanks contained a pair of snakes. A plaque attached to each tank identified the species: Bushmaster, Eastern Diamondback Rattlesnake, Green Mamba, Gabon Viper, King Cobra and Saw-scaled Adder. Six of the most deadly species known to man.
‘Beautiful, aren’t they?’
Graham swung round to face the man who had emerged silently from the lift behind him. He was in his fifties with a large nose prominent in an asymmetrical face. He was dressed in a white suit with a panama tugged over his grey hair.