Mario walked down to the computer room and handed the operator a piece of paper on which he had written two names: ‘Angela Lewis’ and ‘Chris Bronson’.
‘I need their addresses, where they work, and a couple of decent photographs of each of them.’
The operator glanced at the sheet and shook his head.
‘Lewis is a pretty common name,’ he said. ‘Is there anything else you can tell me about her?’
‘She probably works in London,’ Mario said, ‘and she’s an archaeologist.’
The operator nodded.
‘Then it shouldn’t be too difficult,’ he agreed. ‘How soon do you want this?’
‘Today, if possible. It may be necessary to place a contract on her and, if so, our client will want it done within twenty-four hours.’
25
When Bronson woke with a grunt and a snort it was early afternoon, the sunshine bright on his face. For an instant, he had no idea where he was, though he did know that he was extremely uncomfortable, with a crick in his neck that felt like it would be with him for most of the day.
Then realization dawned, and he looked over to his right to see Angela lying flat out on the reclined passenger seat, looking at him with a single blue eye through a tangle of blonde hair.
‘You’re awake,’ Bronson said, stating the obvious.
‘Yes, I am,’ his former wife said somewhat testily. ‘In fact, I’ve been awake for most of the morning, thanks to your snoring. It was a somewhat unpleasant reminder of our brief married life.’
‘I do recall you complaining about my snoring then. What’s the time?’
‘Just after one thirty. I know we should get back on the road quickly, but before we do I absolutely insist on a coffee at least. And ideally a croissant or something to nibble. I’m not that nice to be around when I’m hungry, and I’m hungry right now.’
Bronson nodded and reached for the door handle.
‘So what’s the plan?’ Angela asked, as they sat at a corner table in the autoroute restaurant, two coffees and a plate of pastries in front of them.
Bronson glanced at her and shrugged.
‘I don’t really have one,’ he replied. ‘I’m sort of making it up as I go along. Random decisions are going to make our movements as unpredictable as possible, and hopefully keep us one step ahead. What I wanted to do was get you out of danger, which meant getting you out of Iraq and away from Kuwait as quickly as possible. Even if those terrorists have access to the most sophisticated surveillance and tracking facilities, they can’t possibly know where you are right now. The trail would have stopped at Milan. They probably don’t even know which country you’re in.’
‘I know all that,’ Angela said. ‘But if they want to track me down in Britain — and there was plenty of information about all of the team at the camp — they certainly could.’
Bronson nodded.
‘I hadn’t expected the trail to stop in London,’ he said, ‘because the fact that they were prepared to slaughter an entire archaeological team just to stop anyone seeing that inscription shows they’re completely ruthless and dedicated to the cause. It’s the inscription that’s the core of this whole mess. That’s why I suggested publishing your photographs of it online, because once it’s out there and anyone can see it, their attempt to keep it quiet will obviously have failed and there would be no point in targeting you any more.’
‘Unless those bastards have long memories and decide I should die just because I was involved. Simple revenge. What little we know about them suggests that their philosophy is the exact opposite of the forgiving kind. Let’s face it, we were really lucky to get out of Iraq. A few seconds more or less, the guy behind the machine gun aiming with a bit more care and those vultures would be feasting on us by now.’
‘And there was me thinking it was all down to my skill behind the wheel,’ Bronson said with a slight smile. ‘But they didn’t just turn up at the encampment on the off-chance that you’d found that temple and there was an inscription inside it, did they? It was targeted and premeditated.’
‘God, I never thought of it like that. How could they have known? It had to have come from an insider.’
‘Yes. As far as I can see there are only two possibilities,’ Bronson said. ‘Most probably somebody told them, though it’s just about possible that they hacked into an email account belonging to one of the archaeologists. I mean, presumably finding the inscription wasn’t a secret, so it’s likely that one of the team might have told his wife or a work colleague or somebody what they’d found.’
‘But that means—’ Angela began, but Bronson interrupted her.
‘Unless we’re way off beam, it means somebody definitely expected the inscription to be found. Not necessarily by your team, and not necessarily at that location, but somebody knew it was out there in the desert somewhere. Whoever it was must have been waiting for some sign that it had been found, and then he sent in the men with the guns. This wasn’t some off-the-cuff operation, this was a deliberate attempt to obliterate the inscription and murder everyone unfortunate enough to know anything about it. It was carefully planned. And if you and Stephen had been there when they arrived, it would have been entirely successful.’
‘Yes,’ Angela said, ‘it would. Even if one of us had mentioned the inscription in an email, Mohammed had told us not to send out any pictures of it, or of the temple. That information would have been released as a part of our report on the expedition, the official document detailing everything we’d found.’
She shook her head angrily.
‘What gets me is that it’s so bloody unfair. Archaeology isn’t supposed to be dangerous — unless a trench collapses on top of you or something — and this expedition was meant to be a bit of gentle digging in a site that looked mildly interesting. The only reason I was there was to help out with the conservation of any ceramics we found and to give my opinion on the dating of the relics. And now I’m on the run from a gang of murdering thugs who want to kill me not because of what I know, but because of something that I’ve seen.’
‘We’ve been here before, Angela my love, and we’ve proved on several occasions that archaeology can be extremely hazardous to your health. This is just another situation where we’re on the side of the righteous and facing a bunch of people who have our worst interests at heart. Don’t worry. We’ll get through this. We make a good team. Now, let’s get back on the road.’
26
To say Khaled was unhappy barely even hinted at the degree of his irritation.
What should have been a simple operation had gone disastrously wrong. The woman and a man he now knew to be her former husband had escaped the best efforts of Farooq and his men, along with another archaeologist who Khaled hadn’t even known wasn’t at the camp.
The only piece of good news was that the contract he had placed with the Italian had been completed, and Taverner had been taken care of in Milan. But where Lewis and her husband were at that precise moment, he had only the vaguest idea. If Taverner had been telling the truth, they were probably somewhere in the middle of France driving towards the channel ports in a hire car, and trying to locate them in that vast country would be a complete waste of time. A hit at the channel ports would also be too problematic because of the security measures in place at border control. About the only option he had left, Khaled realized, was for a contractor in Britain to find out where the Lewis woman lived and then eliminate her. But that couldn’t be done for at least a couple of days. A wait, even that short, seemed interminable.