Carver - By Tom Cain Page 0,103

saying.

‘Yes, Barry, we can see it,’ said the newsreader in the studio. ‘But is there any more information about what actually happened here?’

‘Yes there is, Kate. This was a very public assassination attempt, carried out in front of lines of cars all stuck in a traffic jam – a jam that may even have been created as a means of trapping Zorn. From what eyewitnesses are saying, a car pulled out into the middle of the road, stopping the traffic in both directions, before suddenly driving away at high speed. Seconds later there was a huge explosion that disabled the Bentley.’

‘Was that some kind of mine, like the IEDs we’ve become so familiar with in Afghanistan?’

‘Possibly. Some witnesses, however, are describing a rocket or bazooka being fired at the car. All we know for certain is that the Bentley was disabled. Very soon after that, a man approached the stricken car on a motorbike, fired a gun into the passenger compartment and then lobbed a grenade into it. One eyewitness who saw the interior of the car is still too distressed to speak. It’s safe to say it was not a pretty sight.’

‘And what about Mr Zorn? Do we know whether he is dead or not?’

‘That’s still hard to say, Kate. Certainly it seems very unlikely that anyone could have survived this attack. But he might have had one stroke of luck. A London ambulance was nearby and rushed to the scene. Mr Zorn’s body was taken from the car and driven away within a minute or so of the incident. It’s thought that his head may have been covered by a blanket, suggesting he was already dead, but I’m getting conflicting reports on that.’

‘So where is he now?’

‘We’re not sure, Kate. There’s been no word from any of the local hospitals. Meanwhile, in another extraordinary development, rumours are sweeping the tennis world that there has been some sort of incident in the tunnels beneath Centre Court, possibly involving gunfire and multiple fatalities. I have to stress, though, that these are unconfirmed …’

With a press of a remote control the screen turned to black.

‘What do you think? Am I now officially dead?’ asked Malachi Zorn.

‘How could you not be?’ Razzaq replied. ‘Carver blew up your car, then used a gun and a grenade to carry out the actual hit.’

‘The grenade bothers me,’ Zorn said.

‘Why so?’

‘If that grenade went off inside the car, how come the ambulance men were able to put the body on a stretcher? It should have been torn to pieces by the blast.’

Razzaq frowned. ‘True, though a blast can easily be blocked or deflected. A table-leg saved Hitler from von Stauffenberg’s briefcase bomb, after all.’

‘I guess,’ said Zorn. ‘But I’ll still be happier when I see some spokesperson standing outside a hospital, saying how tragic it is that I passed away.’

The SAS team had divided into two four-man patrols, which were now approaching both the front and rear of the building. Surveillance of the property with highly sensitive parabolic microphones and thermal-imaging binoculars had detected the presence of two adult males in the room that Zorn was believed to use as an office. The two men were still in place as the troops reached the building and flattened themselves against the walls. They weren’t going in through any of the mansion’s doors. They didn’t need to. Simultaneously they placed coiled rings of explosive cord, whose blast was tamped and focused by black rubber tubes of water up against the brickwork. The moment the signal was given, the cord would be detonated. Even before the smoke had cleared, the SAS would be in the building and racing towards their quarry.

*

Zorn was going back over the news report in his mind, its inconsistencies nagging at him, like an itch that would not go away. ‘That ambulance … we’re supposed to believe that, what? It just happened to be down the road, with nothing better to do? No way, that’s just not possible.’

‘What are you saying here?’ asked Razzaq.

‘I’m saying maybe the whole set-up was fake. Maybe Carver double-crossed you. Either that or the Brits got to him.’

‘But that would mean that they knew it wasn’t you in that car.’

‘Not necessarily. They could have figured out the connection to Rosconway.’

‘Impossible! How?’

‘I don’t know. But if they did, they’d have plenty of reasons to come after me.’

Razzaq did not reply. He wasn’t paying attention to Zorn any more. He was looking at an image on one of Zorn’s screens. It showed