Ratcatcher - By Tim Stevens Page 0,44

case it would take a while, even though the money had been laundered from krooni into large-denomination euros.

Dobrynin muttered for assistance and two of the dealer’s own men knelt and prised and lifted so that he could peer underneath. Venedikt tried not to hold his breath, tried to keep his back and neck from tensing in anticipation of the sign of a double cross, a movement on the part of the dealer or his men. Equally he tried to banish from his imagination the cry from the watchers, the massing of police cars and helicopters above the lip of the depression, the bullhorn commands to surrender. Beside him the dealer stood, feet slightly apart, hands folded neatly before him, almost prim, watching Dobrynin with something that looked like genuine appreciation of his thoroughness.

Dobrynin straightened and brushed off his trousers and hands. He paused in front of Venedikt, looking up into his face, before giving a nod of triumph. Venedikt felt the tension leave him in a great funnelling of breath.

He glanced at his watch, then up at the sky, allowing his neck to flex luxuriously. Step two was complete.

Two o’clock. Eighteen hours to go.

SEVENTEEN

‘Boss.’ The relief in the syllable was almost comical. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Bit of a scrape.’

‘I heard gunshots.’

He thought about saying it had been a car backfiring, but couldn’t do it. He slumped, weary, his forehead against the cool glass of the booth. ‘It was a trap. The man chucked the bug out, then lay in wait. He’s dead. I’m okay, but I’m without a car or a phone. I’m calling from a public box.’

‘Where are you? I’ll come and pick you up.’

‘Too dangerous. They’ll be looking for me. No point letting them catch us both. I’m making my way back to town.’ A face appeared through the grimy glass inches from his own. Purkiss recoiled, but it was only a backpacker peering in. The adrenaline was dissipating but was still there, rendering him jumpy. He held up an index finger and the man stepped away, looking disgruntled.

‘Can you look up an address for me? It’s from the satnav in the man’s car. It comes up time and again as the starting point of his journey.’ He read it out, spelling each word, then said, ‘I’ll call you once I get a new phone.’

‘One more thing. Kendrick’s confirmed and is on his way. Same flight as you took yesterday. He should be here sevenish.’

He had made his way back towards the city with difficulty, keeping amongst the trees as much as possible to stay out of view of any search parties, but being forced back on to the road when the forest became impassable. He’d emerged at a bus stop just as a bus had come down the hill and had held up his hand hopefully. The driver hadn’t even slowed. The knees of Purkiss’s trousers were ripped and his face was pallid, and he supposed he would have been reluctant himself. Eventually a pick-up truck had stopped and the driver, with a good-humoured face beneath a peaked cap, had jerked his head at the back. Purkiss had climbed in and wedged himself between bundles of metal piping. When he’d spotted the phone booth on the outskirts he’d tapped the rear window of the cab and hopped off.

After his call to Abby he dialled again.

‘Vale.’

‘It’s me.’

‘Pay phone?’

‘Lost my own.’

He brought Vale up to date, leaving one detail until last. He’d wondered whether to reveal it at all, then decided.

‘At least one of the Service agents is working with Fallon.’ He explained. Vale listened in silence. After Purkiss had finished the silence continued to the point at which he wondered if the connection had been lost.

Vale said: ‘I’m pulling you out.’

‘No.’

‘You’re compromised beyond anything I could reasonably expect you to cope with.’

‘No.’

‘John. Listen to me. This has gone beyond tracking down Fallon. An operation involving numerous locals, some with military backgrounds, as well as not one but two or even more rogue Service personnel – it’s too big.’

‘So what do you propose?’

‘I’m going to make it official. Alert Century House.’

‘Fallon and his people will just go underground.’

‘If it means averting a disaster tomorrow –’

‘By cancelling the summit? That’s the point, isn’t it? That’s what Fallon wants.’

‘We can’t know that.’

‘I’ve told you. The answer’s no.’

‘For God’s sake, John. This is bigger than you and Fallon.’

‘Nothing’s bigger than that.’ Purkiss touched the bar, about to cut off the call. He said: ‘And if you bring the Service on board anyway,