‘Where’s the best medical centre?’
Tess shrugs. ‘No real idea. I’ll look online. There’ll probably be ones at Oakland and San Ramon.’
‘Have a look east. Find something as far away from here as I could make in an hour.’ He nods at the girl. ‘How is she?’
‘No real trouble. Bled like a haemophiliac after you cut her fingertip off with that carver and she’s been whimpering like a kitten ever since.’
He goes to the fridge and pulls a beer. ‘You want one?’
She takes a bottle and pops the cap. ‘I don’t like this. Don’t like it one bit. You let the other side call the shots and it leads to trouble. Especially if the other side’s a Fed.’
151
Sandra Donovan makes sure the door to her office is shut. It’s a precaution she always takes when she’s about to receive a call as important as the one being put through.
The director of the FBI wants to talk privately to her.
The light on her desk phone flashes. She snatches up the receiver, ‘Yes, sir.’
Peter Lansley’s noted as the kind of boss who likes to warm up a conversation. That’s before he drops a bucket of ice down your pants. So she’s not surprised to hear him start with small talk. ‘How are you, Sandra? I’ve not seen you since the VICAP conference in Quantico.’
‘I’m very fine, sir. Thank you for asking.’
‘Good presentation that day — you certainly got some of the old timers thinking. I’m calling you about the Fallon case; there’s something I need to tell you off the record.’
‘Of course, sir.’
‘In a moment you’ll receive a call from a man who will give you two code words: Tole and Mac. That’s Tango, Oscar, Lima, Echo. And Mike, Alpha, Charlie.’
‘I’ve got it, sir.’
‘Good. Because after that, this man will give you some information and believe me, you’ll be able to trust it. He’s a platinum-quality source. The intel we’ve had from him has never once been wrong. Never, Sandra.’
She notes his emphasis. ‘This information, does it come from our side of the line or the other side, sir?’
There’s a hint of laughter in his voice. ‘Our side, Sandra. Very much our side. I told the caller that you could be trusted to deal directly with him. Don’t let me down.’
‘I won’t, sir.’
The line goes dead. Donovan returns the receiver to its cradle and wonders what the hell anyone outside her team or Bob Beam’s squad can tell her about the kidnapping of Mitzi Fallon’s kids.
She doesn’t have to wait long.
Her secretary buzzes through. ‘I have a man on the phone. He says Director Lansley will have spoken to you and you’ll be expecting this call.’
Her eyes widen in anticipation. ‘Put him through, Sylvia. Put him through.’
152
As Owain’s helicopter sifts air over Cardigan he thinks how, centuries ago, this had been the starting and stopping point for hundreds of ships and thousands of sailors. It supported a booming shipbuilding industry, a thriving trade in wool export and a buoyant local community.
Not any more.
Once the river silted up, the big boats stopped coming and economic rot set in. Nowadays it’s a small town with a population of less than five thousand. Tourists tend to be either of the history or religious variety. They visit the eleventh-century castle or St Mary’s, the twelfth-century church that houses the Catholic national shrine of Wales, a statue of the Blessed Virgin known as Our Lady of the Taper and Our Lady of Cardigan.
The shrine is the focus of the new Pope’s visit, the first to Wales for over thirty years. A cause for national celebration. And Owain’s first port of call.
Rain clouds shroud the break of dawn and temperatures are almost frosty as a limousine picks him up and heads across town. Alongside him is Carrie Auckland, a former MI5 high flyer who has been heading his European VIP protective units for the past five years. The forty-two-year-old is kitted out in a black bomber jacket, matching combat pants and sneakers.
She shifts her wiry, athletic frame and tries to reassure him that everything is going to be fine. ‘Every hour of every day, we check bins, drains, post boxes and vantage points along the papal route. There’s not a house, apartment, store or garage we haven’t turned over. There’s no chance of an attempt on his life.’
‘There’s always a chance, Carrie — that’s why I’m here.’
‘Unnecessarily, I hope.’
‘Me too. Don’t for one moment think my early arrival is a vote of no confidence. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the best in the business.’
‘Thank you.’
‘It’s just that the Watch Team insists there will be an attempt on the Holy Father’s life and an extra pair of hands is always useful.’
‘Watch have been wrong before.’ She hands over a manila folder filled with briefing sheets.
‘Many times. And I hope they are today.’
‘The first document is the papal agenda,’ she explains. ‘The second, a list of people who will meet the Holy Father or be close to him. I’ve talked to Vatican security and either you or I will never be more than a few yards away. The third is a profile on the pontiff and his travelling habits. The fourth, an analysis of—’
He cuts her short. ‘Too much, Carrie — just give me the highlights.’
‘Okay. Well, this is the first time a Pope has been in Wales since 1982. He’s visiting Cardigan, Swansea and Cardiff before arriving late in Westminster for Mass in the morning, then a flight to Belgium to bless a further restoration of The Ghent Altarpiece.’
‘We’ll talk about Ghent later. Just focus on Cardigan for the moment.’
‘The village is easy for containment. I think between ourselves, the Vatican and security services we’re locked down safe. The church goes back to the twelfth century but it’s been extended, modernized and a place developed for the shrine.’ She points to the folder. ‘The schematics are all in there. You’ll see that it’s a difficult area to cover, so we’ve had to be extra vigilant there.’
‘Good. You seem very well-prepared.’ He relaxes a little. ‘From a security point of view, what are you most worried about?’
She smiles. ‘The unexpected. The nature of life is that something unexpected always happens.’
153
Sandra Donovan slides two photographs across her desk. One of a man and one of a woman.
Bob Beam picks them up. ‘What are these?’
‘Just sent to me via an untraceable server.’
He smiles. ‘There’s no such thing as untraceable.’
‘Really? Go talk to the tech boys. I just said the same thing to them and they laughed in my face. They’ll bore you rigid with explanations of how these JPEGs got pinged through every IP server in Asia before arriving here.’
He holds up the pictures. ‘And these people are?’
‘Gerry and Susan Stanhope. Paul and Sharron Glass. Steve and Sarah Dopler. Or more familiarly, Chris and Tess Wilkins. According to a trusted source, they’re behind the Fallon kidnapping.’
He stares at the round face of the man and the chiselled cheeks of a blonde woman. ‘We came across the same name when checking out rentals. What’s the source?’
‘I can’t say, but it’s good.’
‘Can’t or won’t?’
‘Can’t. It came to me via Lansley.’
His eyes widen. ‘Anything other than pictures to go on?’
Donovan rests her hands on the desk. ‘Apparently, there’s a select group of former soldiers already hunting the Wilkins couple.’