impressed. ‘Could you really find out who hired Sklar in Zimbabwe?’ Kit asked.
‘In theory,’ said Eddie awkwardly. ‘Only I wouldn’t be the best person to send, ’cause, er . . . I’ve got a death sentence on me there.’
‘What?’ said Beauchamp, shocked.
‘Yeah. A while back I helped some people who were high on the government’s shit-list get out of the country. Only problem was, it got me added to the list as well. So I don’t really want to go back there.’
‘I can see why,’ Kit said. ‘But hopefully, you won’t need to.’ He gestured towards the prisoner. ‘Fernandez definitely seems to be considering what you said.’
‘Then we should let him sweat for a while,’ Beauchamp said.
‘Very good work, Mr Chase.’ She turned to Kit. ‘I will brief the director. You look tired - both of you do. You should get some rest.’
‘It’s been a long day,’ Eddie agreed. He checked his watch, finding that it was after nine o’clock at night. He stifled a yawn. ‘Think I’d better get to the hotel.’
‘I’ll show you out,’ said Kit. All three exited the observation room, then the two men made their farewells to Beauchamp and headed for the elevators.
As they approached the security gate, their attention was caught by a uniformed female officer on the other side. Eddie guessed she was Indian, her black hair held up in a severe bun. She seemed to be having trouble, inserting her ID card twice before the system recognised it. The guard opened the gate and she marched through, not giving Eddie or Kit the slightest look. The reverse wasn’t true, both men turning their heads to track the attractive, if stone-faced, officer as she passed.
‘Hey,’ said Kit, ‘you’re married.’
Eddie shrugged jokingly. ‘Can’t be sued for looking.’
‘Would you say that if Nina were here?’
‘Yeah, probably. It’s fun winding her up.’ They went through the gate. ‘Oh, I left my jacket in your office.’
‘No problem.’ Kit pushed a button to summon the elevator.
Fernandez looked up as the door opened, concealing his surprise at the sight of the new arrival. ‘I didn’t expect you so soon.’
Madirakshi Dagdu regarded him impassively with her one good eye, its artificial counterpart cold and glassy. ‘Have you told them anything?’
He snorted. ‘Of course not! They’ve said nothing worth replying to. Asking the same questions over and over, offering their pathetic little deals for my co-operation.’
‘Which you turned down.’
‘Obviously. Or I would not be sitting here chained to a chair, would I? Now get me out.’
She nodded and moved behind him. ‘By the way,’ she said, ‘before I came in, I checked the next room to make sure it was empty. I saw a video camera.’
Disquiet entered his voice. ‘You switched it off, I hope?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’ A faint wet, sucking noise behind him. ‘And then . . . I watched the recording.’
Fernandez suddenly remembered the sound from the apartment in Florence. ‘No, wait, I only—’
The garrotte wire lashed round his throat and pulled tight.
Eddie retrieved his leather jacket. ‘What hotel’ve you booked me into?’
‘The de Ville, across the river. You should see the Festival of Lights while you’re here, by the way - there’s a big show in the Place des Terreaux. It’s only a few minutes from the hotel. Very impressive.’
‘I’ll see how knackered I feel when I get there.’ He pulled on the jacket, grimacing as his stiff muscles protested at the movement.
‘Are you okay, Eddie?’ Kit asked.
‘Yeah, I will be. Got pretty bashed up, that’s all.’
The Indian grinned. ‘Lots of new scars you can use to impress the ladies.’
‘My lady’s seen all my scars already . . .’ He tailed off, the jokey discussion unexpectedly triggering connections in his mind.
‘What is it?’
‘That woman who went into the cells while we were coming out - she had a scar on her face.’
Kit looked puzzled. ‘I didn’t notice.’
‘You weren’t looking at her face. But I’ve seen it before . . .’ He frowned, thinking - then his eyes widened. ‘San Francisco! Shit, she was there just before we were attacked! She was with the Khoils.’
‘Pramesh Khoil?’ asked Kit, surprised. ‘The Qexia man?’
‘You know him?’
‘Everyone in India knows him - he’s our Bill Gates. Are you sure it was the same woman?’
‘Positive - and now she’s been in the same place as Fernandez twice.’ Realisation dawned. ‘She might be trying to bust him out! Come on!’
They ran from the office, hurrying to the elevators. Eddie jabbed repeatedly at the call button before losing his patience and barging open the stairwell door, clattering up it with Kit right behind.
Seventh floor. They raced for the security gate, getting startled looks from Interpol personnel as they ran past. Another frustrating delay as they waited to have their IDs checked, then they rushed to the interrogation room—
The woman had been there, all right - but not to free Fernandez. He was still cuffed to the chair, but now his head lolled horribly, mouth no longer curled in a smirk but gaping in breathless terror. His neck had been sliced open almost from ear to ear, dark blood still flowing from the deep wound.
‘Shit!’ Eddie gasped, pushing past the startled Kit and running back to the gate. ‘That woman - black hair, scar down one eye - where is she?’
‘She left just before you came back,’ said the guard, confused. ‘What’s going on?’
‘What’s going on is that she just strangled one of your fucking prisoners!’
Kit ran up. ‘I want a full security alert - lock down the building! Nobody gets out until we find this woman. Now let us through!’
‘Yes, sir!’ The guard hurriedly opened the gate, then picked up a phone to raise the alarm.
‘How many ways are there out of here?’ Eddie demanded as they pounded back along the corridor.
‘The main entrances are on the east and west sides, and then there are the fire exits, the underground car park . . .’
‘She won’t be trying to get away on foot.’ Interpol’s headquarters were close to the southern bank of the river Rhone, a nearby lake limiting possible escape routes. They reached the elevators; one had stopped at a basement level. Eddie hammered at the call buttons again before going for the stairwell.
A siren blared as they reached the third floor. ‘Lockdown, lockdown,’ said a man over the PA system. ‘Security personnel, seal off designated exits. All other personnel, remain where you are.’ The message was repeated in other languages as they continued their descent.
Basement level. Eddie kicked open the door - to find a uniformed man sprawled in front of the elevators in a pool of blood. The holster on his belt was empty.
‘She shot him with his own gun,’ he told Kit, dropping into concealment behind the parked cars and signalling for him to do the same. ‘Which way’s the exit?’ Kit pointed. ‘Okay, you get more people down here - I’ll try and find her.’
‘Be careful, Eddie,’ warned Kit as he went to the emergency telephone by the elevators.
‘What do you bloody think I’m going to be?’ Hunched low, he checked for any signs of movement before scurrying towards the exit. A door slammed, but the echoes of the car park made it impossible to tell where. He weaved through the ranks of vehicles to a concrete ramp leading up to ground level. Yellow and black striped barriers blocked both exit lanes.
Still no movement. Maybe she
‘Eddie!’ Kit called. ‘The guards are on their way!’
