‘Very well,’ Philpott replied after a moment’s thought.
He took Whitlock and Paluzzi to one side.
‘Commissioner Kuhlmann has agreed to give us two hours with Calvieri before we have to hand him over to the local police. I want you to get as much out of him as you can before they take him away.’
‘Where can we question him?’ Paluzzi asked.
‘Use Vlok’s office.’
‘What about Ubrino?’ Whitlock asked, glancing at the body.
‘The police will be here shortly. Commissioner Kuhlmann and I will stay here to tie up any loose ends. Now go on, get Calvieri out of here before they arrive.’
Whitlock and Paluzzi led Calvieri across the helipad and disappeared down the stairs.
Kolchinsky looked at his watch, then dropped his cigarette end and ground it underfoot.
‘It’s going to be a long haul. We’d better get started as soon as possible.’
‘How long will it take us to reach Corfu?’ Sabrina asked.
‘You’re my navigators, that’s for you to work out.’
Graham and Sabrina exchanged an expressive look as they followed Kolchinsky to the helicopter.
‘Sit down,’ Whitlock said to Calvieri, indicating the chair behind Vlok’s desk.
‘What about these?’ Calvieri asked, extending his manacled wrists towards Whitlock.
‘They stay, for the moment.’
‘So what’s the deal?’ Calvieri asked, sitting down.
‘Deal?’ Paluzzi asked suspiciously.
‘Why am I here? Why haven’t I been handed over to the local police?’
‘You’ll be handed over to them in two hours’ time,’ Whitlock told him. ‘That’s when you’ll be officially booked.’
‘And until then?’
‘Hopefully you’ll agree to cooperate with us,’ Whitlock said. ‘It would certainly benefit you in the long run if you did.’
‘And what exactly does this “cooperation” entail?’
‘A signed confession,’ Paluzzi replied brusquely.
‘And what’s in it for me? I’m hardly going to be pardoned, am I?’
‘A reduction in sentence,’ Whitlock said.
Calvieri sat back and smiled to himself.
‘So I’ll get three life sentences instead of four. Not much of an incentive, is it?’
Paluzzi placed his hands on the desk and leaned forward, his eyes fixed on Calvieri’s face.
‘You’re going to spend part of your sentence in an Italian jail. And that means you’re going to need protection. All I have to do is make one phone call and all the Red Brigades prisoners will be transferred to other jails before you even get there. Can you imagine what those neo-fascist prisoners would do to you? And the warders won’t lift a finger–’
‘You’ve made your point.’ There was fear in Calvieri’s eyes. He chuckled nervously. ‘You certainly know how to negotiate, Paluzzi.’
Paluzzi moved to the door.
‘I’ll get some paper from the other office.’
‘Paluzzi?’ Calvieri called out after him. ‘I could use another cigarette.’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Paluzzi replied as he closed the door behind him.
Whitlock sat on the sofa and looked at Calvieri.
‘What made you team up with Karos? You two are complete opposites.’
‘It was a case of us needing each other. I needed him to finance the operation and he needed the money to start a new life in some other part of the world. I don’t know the whole story, but it seems there were several contracts out on his life. He knew it would only be a matter of time before he was hit.’
‘So he orchestrated his own “death” in front of the authorities to make it seem all the more convincing?’
Calvieri nodded. ‘He knew it would take the pressure off him, giving him the chance to start afresh away from Corfu.’
‘What would his cut have been?’
‘Twenty million.’
‘Where would it have come from? You wanted the hundred million split between five terrorist groups…’ Whitlock trailed off and nodded to himself. ‘Of course, you only intended to give to four of them. The fifth was just a cover for Karos.’
‘That’s right. The Red Army Faction in West Germany were never in on the deal. Karos had his own contact in Berlin who would have collected the money for him.’
‘Who hired the Francia brothers?’ Whitlock asked.
‘Karos. They’d worked for him before. I’ve never even met them. I spoke once to Carlo on the phone to stage the shooting in Venice, that’s all. It helped to draw the suspicion away from me.’
Whitlock frowned.
‘There’s one thing I still don’t understand. How did you manage to warn Ubrino that Mike, Sabrina and Fabio were on their way to the chalet?’
‘I had a transmitter in my pocket which I carried with me at all times. Ubrino had the receiver in the chalet. We agreed that I would only use it in an emergency. He contacted the Francia brothers and, well, the rest you know.’ Calvieri sat forward, his manacled hands clasped together on the desk.
‘You were Anderson, weren’t you? I knew it the moment I saw you properly on the helipad. The description matched perfectly. So who was Yardley?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Whitlock replied, holding Calvieri’s stare.
‘No, I suppose not,’ Calvieri muttered, then slumped back in his chair.
When Paluzzi returned he placed a pad, a pack of cigarettes and a lighter on the desk in front of Calvieri. He then unlocked Calvieri’s handcuffs and handed him a pen.
‘Now start writing.’
Thirteen
It took them five-and-a-half hours, including three fuel stops, to reach Corfu.
As Kolchinsky skimmed the helicopter low across the Khalikiopoulos Lagoon, Graham and Sabrina were smearing camouflage cream over their faces in the cabin behind him. They were both wearing black track suits which they had got from the Test Centre in Zürich, and Sabrina also wore a black cap to hide her blonde hair.
‘Are you ready?’ Kolchinsky called out over his shoulder.
‘Ready,’ Sabrina replied, and pushed her Beretta into her shoulder holster. Graham, too, loaded his Beretta and holstered it.
‘How long before we deplane?’
‘A couple of minutes,’ Kolchinsky answered.
‘And you’re sure there are no guards?’ Sabrina asked.
‘That’s what it says in the surveillance report,’ Kolchinsky replied. ‘Boudien’s the only person who’s been seen there in the last two days.’
Graham clipped the two-way radio on his belt.
‘I still say we’re on a wild-goose chase.’
‘But what would Calvieri gain by that?’ Sabrina asked.
‘I know it doesn’t make any sense but you’d understand my scepticism if you’d been there when Karos was shot. The guy was riddled with bullets even before he fell off the terrace. You don’t just get up and walk away from that.’
Kolchinsky banked the helicopter in a wide arc to avoid flying over the house and landed on the helipad. He gave them a thumbs-up sign, the signal to deplane.
‘If you haven’t heard from us in thirty minutes you’ll come in with guns blazing, right?’ Graham said, standing in front of the closed cabin door.
‘Just make sure I do hear from you,’ Kolchinsky replied.
Graham pulled open the door and jumped out on to the helipad. Sabrina leapt out after him and closed the door behind her. The helicopter immediately rose into the sky and wheeled away towards a clearing on the edge of the lagoon where Kolchinsky would await their instructions.
They ignored the road leading up to the house. Instead they used the cover of the adjacent olive grove, dense trees with thick corded trunks.
It would be impossible to see them from the house. The perfect approach. Graham put a hand lightly on Sabrina’s arm when they reached the edge of the grove. The nearest of the four concrete pillars stood thirty yards away. Thirty yards of lawn. According to the surveillance report, the only way into the house was via the glass lift. Although the glass was bulletproof, it still made them feel uneasy. They would be trapped together in a confined space. And not only that, their progress could be monitored from inside the house. Graham had suggested climbing the pylons, using suction pads, but his idea was quickly scuppered when it turned out that the pylons were protected with razor-sharp pieces of glass embedded into the concrete. Sabrina had suggested using a length of rope to climb up to the terrace. The railing had an alarm built into it which would be activated the moment the grappling hook touched it. If the alarm was on. But they couldn’t take that chance. Another idea discarded. There was no alternative; they would have to use the lift.