‘Yes,’ Ginger agreed, ‘it could be. But he will certainly have to be in London some time tomorrow, I should think.’
‘You do not know where he will be staying?’
‘I’m sorry, no.’
‘It does not matter. We will find him.’
‘That may not be easy. He goes to great lengths to remain undetected. His phone calls go through a number of relays and different numbers; he regularly uses satellite handsets so as to avoid the usual means of tracking via mobile network cells.’
‘If he uses a satellite phone that only means that he can be pinpointed with absolute precision.’
‘If you have access to the satellites through which his calls are routed, yes.’
‘My point exactly,’ said Choi. ‘So, we can assume he is somewhere in London. What were the parameters of his assignment?’
‘Primarily, to kill Zorn before the public launch of the Zorn Global fund.’
‘Which is when?’
‘Friday evening. It was also specified that the killing had to be public: something that couldn’t be missed.’
‘A news event…’
‘Exactly.’
‘I presume that you provided him with Zorn’s itinerary. What public appearances is he making?’
‘A few media appearances,’ Ginger said. ‘But those will be in closed studios, or within the grounds of the house Zorn has rented. Carver has the plans of the house, but I don’t expect him to strike there.’
‘Where do you think he will strike?’
‘Wimbledon. Zorn is going to the tennis on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. I made a point of emphasizing that, and putting the idea firmly in Carver’s head. He will certainly want to prepare his operation as well as he can in the limited time available, so I don’t expect him to do anything until Wednesday.’
Choi nodded. ‘I agree. This is already an extremely tight schedule. He will not want to rush it any more than he absolutely has to. That is how mistakes are made. So… Wednesday or Friday… thank you very much. That is very useful.’
‘And my money?’
‘Will be deposited in your account as always.’
‘With a bonus if you succeed in killing Carver?’
‘I don’t believe I mentioned any such possibility.’
‘Of course not.’ Ginger fixed him with a brittle, humourless smile. ‘You didn’t have to. And I don’t have to say that I will expect a success fee in the event that the attack on Zorn is prevented… However it’s prevented.’
‘Noted,’ said Choi. ‘And now I’m sure you must be busy. My people will show you out.’
Choi watched Ginger Sternberg as she left the room. She was undeniably attractive for a western woman, and it amused him to see the arrogance with which she used her sexuality, presuming that no man could resist her. It would, he thought, be enjoyable to turn the tables on her one day, so that she was the one who begged and pleaded. That had not, he imagined, happened very often in her life, if at all. She had great power, and it had corrupted her and made her lazy, very much like the West itself. Both would be made to grovel.
First though, he had to deal with Samuel Carver. It would give him great face if he were seen to dispose of a man who had been the cause of such irritation. He would, of course, seek guidance from Beijing, but he had no doubt what his instructions would be. Samuel Carver had to die so that Malachi Zorn might live. And he, Choi Deshi, would personally ensure that the task was accomplished to his superiors’ satisfaction and his own personal glory.
15
The Old Town, Geneva
Carver spent the twenty-four hours following his deal with Razzaq deep in thought. He ran through possible identities and disguises; spent hours memorizing the junctions and landmarks on key roads; compared a number of indoor and outdoor locations; and considered all the many different ways of ending a human life at his disposal.
For a while he even toyed with the idea of sabotaging the private jet that would carry Zorn from New York to London. The timing was crazy, though: it would mean hiring a jet of his own to cross the Atlantic in order to reach Zorn’s plane before it took off. It was too soon, anyway. He and Grantham alike both needed to know more about what Zorn was up to. And Carver needed flexibility, a little wriggle room in case he had a sudden change of plans. Nothing about this job felt right, and he had no intention of getting caught with his pants down if Razzaq, Zorn, or some other player as yet unknown started changing the rules of the game.
He ended up concentrating his attention on Wimbledon, searching out every piece of information he could find about the All England Club and the suburban townscape that surrounded it. Looking at the aerial views of the tennis complex, and correlating them with the official maps available on the tournament website, he noticed an entrance gate on Somerset Road, just behind the press and broadcast centres. It was not listed among the spectator gates, and seemed to be an access point for trucks servicing the tournament’s insatiable demand for food, drink and merchandizing. To the left of the gate, the road disappeared into the mouth of a tunnel. It didn’t take long to discover that this led to an un loading bay below Number One Court before rising back up to an exit on to Church Road, on the far side of the club. Carver reckoned there had to be some way of distributing all the deliveries from the unloading bay to the places where they were needed without interfering with the crowds above ground. That meant more, and smaller tunnels. So now he had the possibility of underground ways into, out of and around the All England Lawn Tennis Club.
He also looked into the debenture tickets Zorn had bought. Their original owners had paid?27,750 for the right to buy a Centre Court ticket for every day of the Championships over five years (Number One Court debentures cost roughly half the price for the same period.) They were the only Wimbledon seats that were legally transferable, and could be sold at any price the market would bear. With each seat came perks: a dedicated entrance to the show courts, private bars, restaurants and so on. If Zorn had these tickets, Carver had to have them, too. He phoned a ticket agency.
‘We can do you a debenture ticket. When do you need it?’ the man from the agency asked.
‘Monday, Wednesday and Friday.’
There was a soft whistle. ‘Blimey, that’ll cost you. I mean, the best price we’ve got for the men’s semis on Friday is, hang on… $6,758. In pounds that’s-’
‘Don’t bother, I’ll take it,’ said Carver. ‘And I’ll take the other two days. And I want Number One and Number Two Courts as well, all three days.’
Now the whistle became a chuckle as the agency man worked out what he was about to sell. ‘You planning to be in three places at once?’
‘I’m planning to be wherever I need to be.’
‘Fair enough, but there’s a problem, yeah? They don’t do debentures for Number Two Court. So there ain’t no tickets on sale for that.’
‘Yes, there are.’
‘No, there’s not. See, that’s not legal.’
‘I’m sure it’s not,’ said Carver. ‘But if I’m willing to pay the same price for Number Two Court tickets as for Centre Court ones, I reckon someone will want to sell me them. I’ll pay cash, if necessary. So, can you help me?’
‘Well, obviously, selling you them tickets is a criminal offence, as such…’ There was a pause and Carver could sense the battle between greed and fear going on in the man’s mind. Eventually, as he thought it would, greed won.
‘I’ll see what I can do.’
It would take Carver most of Saturday night to finish his planning. But first he wanted to know more about
