Carver - By Tom Cain Page 0,114

of disposing of Zorn if the chance should ever arise. For all the efforts that were being made to keep tomorrow night’s partygoers safe, there remained a strong chance that Zorn would try something. Carver would therefore be there to stop him – terminally if at all possible. So he spent another day reading reports from all the teams carrying out background checks and site visits. He was kept updated on plans for barriers, ID-checks, body-scans and bag-searches. He was given the locations of three spotter-sniper teams who would be watching from high rooftops, ready to take out any hostile threat. And he was reassured that a combination of blocked roads and the City’s excellent security camera system would make it impossible for Zorn to create a repeat of the Rosconway attack.

He was just wondering where to go out to find a decent drink and a bite of supper when he got a call from Alix. ‘I left Azarov,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t take a another minute of it. So I just packed a bag and left. I’ll get someone to collect the rest of my things tomorrow.’

‘Do you need somewhere to stay the night?’ Carver asked. ‘I happen to have a magnificent luxury apartment handy.’

‘Hmm … well, that’s certainly very tempting,’ Alix replied. ‘Your apartment is very magnificent and so elegantly decorated … But I think I’m going to rough it at the Mandarin Oriental on Hyde Park. I’m sorry, Carver, but as sexy as you are, I’m a girl, and the thought of being two minutes from Harvey Nicks is even sexier.’

‘You mean you’d prefer a shop to me?’

‘Of course …’

Carver knew she was teasing, but two could play at that game. ‘Well, I’m a boy,’ he said, ‘and I’ve got to work. So if there’s nothing else you want to discuss, I’d better get back to it.’

‘Oh, don’t be cross. The only reason I want to go shopping is to get something really great for the party tomorrow. Please tell me you’re going …’

‘To the Zorn Global launch?’

‘What other party is there?’

‘Yes, I’m going. But I don’t think you should.’

Carver could feel the atmosphere change as Alix realized he meant it. ‘Why not? Don’t you want to be with me?’

‘I always want to be with you,’ he reassured her. ‘But maybe not tomorrow night. I’ll be busy and … Look, it’s just going to be difficult.’

Carver’s words were followed by a silence whose deep Siberian chill was enough to freeze the line. But Alix must have decided on a change of strategy, because she suddenly brightened. ‘Well, never mind about the party. We can sort it out tomorrow. Heston Blumenthal has a restaurant at my hotel. I booked a table for two tonight. Interested?’

Carver was there within the hour.

Friday, 1 July

86

* * *

The City of London

ENGLISH SUMMERS ARE unreliable, and even July evenings can be damp and chilly. This one was no exception. Sunshine earlier in the day had given way to heavy grey cloud and blustery showers, so Ronnie Braddock had a raincoat on and the collar up as he arrived for his interview to be Head of Security at Bandekar Technologies. The legitimate aspects of his career, including his exemplary military service record, made him well-qualified for the role, while the illegitimate aspects were not known to anyone except the people who had hired him. And they certainly weren’t talking.

Braddock was listed as Mr Bandekar’s final interview at 6.00 p.m. on Friday – a last-minute addition to the list. He arrived early, showing his driver’s licence to the goons on the door, neither of whom had ever had anything to do with him. When he got to the conference room, he asked the receptionist if there was a men’s room anywhere near. ‘Pre-match nerves,’ he explained, with an embarrassed smile.

He was given directions to the nearest toilet, but when he left the conference room he forgot all about them. Instead he went to the storeroom where the flight-cases had been stacked. He opened the case with the false bottom, and then removed the two shrink-wrapped packages. Using a Swiss Army knife he then cut open the smaller of the two packages and took out the box it contained. Inside the box was a fully loaded Glock 27 subcompact pistol, an AAC Evolution .40 suppressor, and a spare eleven-round magazine. Braddock checked the Glock, fitted the suppressor, then placed the fully assembled gun within easy reach while he dealt with the other package. It didn’t take