‘There won’t be any lasting damage,’ Victor said. ‘But it wouldn’t hurt to get a doctor to check you out.’
‘You’re a bastard,’ she hissed as she sat back. ‘You didn’t need to do that.’
‘You didn’t need to pretend to be a taxi driver.’
She glared at him.
In return, Victor showed no expression.
‘How did you know?’ she asked as she rubbed her throat.
Victor saw no immediate harm in answering but he wasn’t used to explaining his methods. ‘You’ll work it out eventually. It wasn’t hard.’
She stared at him, unsure whether he was being truthful or if he knew something he wasn’t revealing. He had revealed as much as he was going to.
He said, ‘Take another minute to recover and then let’s get going. I don’t want to keep our mutual friend waiting any longer.’
EIGHTEEN
This time the woman calling herself Francesca drove without her seatbelt fastened. It was generally the preferred approach of professionals for reasons including, but not exclusive to, those Victor had just demonstrated. Though last summer being forced to wear one had helped save his life. He swallowed an unpleasant taste from his mouth.
Francesca glanced at him every few seconds, expectantly fearful of what he might do, but it was useless. Even if she was somehow able to identify the moment before he elected to act, she was driving the car and could hardly throw herself out of the line of fire should he decide to squeeze the Makarov’s trigger. Victor kept both hands in his lap to defeat her attempts at using mirrors to see which hand held the gun and where it was pointed. It was tucked in his waistband. He didn’t need it.
She said, ‘We’re almost there now.’
‘How long?’
‘Five minutes maybe.’
Victor nodded and said nothing more.
After four minutes she indicated and slowed, before turning onto a narrow access road flanked on both sides by a tall chain-link fence topped with razor wire. The road surface was cracked and potholed. It ended after thirty metres where a metal gate divided the road from the compound beyond, but the gate was already open.
The Saab rolled through the opening and onto an open area of asphalt that suggested a nearby factory or plant, but the wash of the headlights disappeared into darkness. Victor pictured a vast area of wasteland where a huge industrial complex had once been demolished.
The ground changed from unmaintained asphalt to earth that was uneven and rutted. It hadn’t been completely cleared from the demolition and the tyres threw up fragments of rubble that clattered against the wheel arches and pinged off the Saab’s underside. With two-wheel drive the car struggled on the terrain and its soft suspension caused it to rock and sway.
Francesca turned the steering wheel to the left and the headlights swept over a barren expanse of wasteland that seemed endless and empty until the lights bounced off the polished bodywork of another car.
A black Rolls-Royce Phantom was parked on a large flat area comprised of industrial-sized concrete slabs. Grass grew along the gaps between slabs. The concrete was cracked and split where plant life had forced its way through. The Rolls-Royce was a limousine, beautiful and monstrous at the same time.
Francesca stopped the Saab when it was parallel to the limousine, leaving about six metres of open space between the two vehicles. She applied the handbrake and killed the engine and sat motionless with her palms on her thighs, her reflected gaze locked on Victor.
‘This is it. We’re here.’
‘What happens now?’
‘He’s waiting for you in the back of the Rolls.’
‘Apart from the limousine’s driver, is he alone?’
She nodded.
‘Is the driver armed?’
‘I wouldn’t know.’
‘If you were armed, is there any reason the driver would not be?’
She shook her head.
‘I take it you’re supposed to call when I get out of the taxi, yes? To give the all clear.’
She nodded. ‘But it’s not all clear, is it? I’ll have to say about the pistol.’
Victor nodded back. ‘I imagine you will.’
‘He won’t be happy about it,’ she said. ‘I’m just warning you.’
‘I expect he won’t. Do whatever you must.’
Her eyes widened, suspicious. ‘Really?’
‘A couple of points for consideration, though. If this is a setup then you should know that it’s not going to work, and if you mention the gun I’ll have to kill you with it after I’ve killed whoever is in the other car. The Rolls can carry six people including the driver, so even if it’s at full capacity, which of course it isn’t, that still leaves