‘Really? So how does it work?’ Harry knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere, but he felt like winding Mace up. He was feeling irritated by the whole place, but especially Mace’s apparent acceptance of the situation.
‘This is not like a career step in Shell Oil,’ Mace replied. ‘You don’t go through here on a management trainee grant, collect your MBA and move on somewhere better. This is a proper posting and you only get a move-on card when London says you can. So I’m about as useful to you as tits on a fish.’ His eyes flickered momentarily, and he wiped his face with a tired hand. ‘Christ, listen to me. I sound like one of those self-righteous HR tits in Whitehall, hiding behind the rule book.’ He raised a hand and signalled to the barman for a refill, then looked at Harry. ‘You want one of these? Cleans your pipes like battery acid but you’ll never get a cold again.’
‘No. Coffee’s fine,’ said Harry. He pointed at the coffee machine and sat down. When the coffee arrived, he spooned in sugar and took a sip. It tasted like a sweeter brand of sump oil and had a greasy film on the surface. ‘God help me, if I ever get out of this place, it’ll be somewhere where they know what a coffee bean look like.’
‘That would be Tbilisi, just down the road.’ Mace smiled. ‘Unfortunately, that’s off-limits, so you’re stuck in this shithole. What have you got?’
‘What makes you think I’ve got anything?’
‘Because you’re a pit bull on the quiet, that’s why. You see stuff others don’t notice and you’ve got a nose for trouble. Now you’ve hunted me down to this place. You didn’t do that just for the pleasure of my company.’
‘Well, well, if it isn’t my fellow passenger!’ A familiar voice boomed across the cafe, cutting off what Harry was going to say about the server. He turned. Carl Higgins was ploughing his way between the tables like an ice- breaker, coat tails flapping around him. He dwarfed the room with his presence, and even the soldiers looked wary. On his way, he waved a beefy hand at the barman for refills. ‘Time to dance, huh? Whaddya say? Cha-cha-cha!’ He clapped Harry on the shoulder and eased himself alongside Mace, settling his buttocks on two chairs with a sigh. ‘Man, this place is getting to me. I need to go home. I musta done something really wrong to get this shit assignment.’
‘What do you want, Higgins?’ Mace’s voice was cool, his expression tight. Harry got the impression he was embarrassed at being seen here. Was that because of himself… or Higgins?
‘Don’t be like that, Mace.’ The big American seemed unaffected by the chilly reception, but there was a tightness behind the smile. ‘I need to speak to your buddy, here.’ He looked at Harry. ‘I hear you’ve been getting around a lot since you arrived.’
‘It’s my job,’ said Harry, and resisted telling the American that he should mind his own business. Had Higgins spotted Harry lurking near Rudi’s stall?
‘Yeah, I figured. I should have known what you were when I saw who the driver was from the airport the other day. He fooled me good, that boy. Ferris, is that his name? Not bad for a computer geek. He’s got some front.’ He looked from Harry to Mace, daring them to deny their cover. ‘But you know, you should be careful who else you mix with, Harry. There are people around here you really don’t want to mess with, know what I mean?’
‘No.’
‘Well, you should.’ Higgins picked up his glass as soon as the waiter set it down and drained the contents in one swallow. He winced as the liquid went down, shuddering like a huge dog. ‘Man, this stuff’s goddam lethal.’ He looked at Harry. ‘You’ve been making friends around town, I hear. Mr Mayor, Geordi Kostova for one. Nice guy but that Nikolai is a real creep. And Rudi’s a real mover, isn’t he? Thinks he’s an entrepreneur, but he’s just a street punk with some smarts. You should stay away from him — he squeals like a girl.’
Harry saw no sense in denying he knew Rudi. Whatever pressure Higgins had been able to apply to the dealer had clearly worked. But there was no mention of a phone. ‘I’ll keep it in mind.’
‘You do that.’ Higgins gave him a long, hard look, eyes like shards of flint. Then he turned to Mace and lowered his voice. ‘You heard about the build-up long the border?’
Mace nodded. ‘Bits and pieces.’
‘You kidding me? It’s more than bits and pieces. Don’t they tell you anything from London? Any of you?’ He lowered his voice even further. ‘The Russians are right on the line, my friend. Any minute now, they’ll come tripping over it and run right over this place.’ He made a surfing gesture with one huge hand and frowned at Harry. ‘But you guys know that, right? You haven’t been sitting on your thumbs since you got here — you must have heard stuff.’
‘What kind of stuff?’ said Harry, his interest aroused. He wasn’t sure if Higgins was trying to tell them something or merely showing off. Had he run into the same GRU men that Harry had seen?
‘About the teams they sent in. The ones who disappeared.’
Mace lifted a hand. ‘Higgins, what do you-’
‘Let him speak.’ Harry stared at the American, wondering why Mace had been about to stop him speaking. ‘What teams?’
Higgins did a quick one-two, then shrugged, a sly curl edging his mouth as he speculated on the situation between them. He checked nobody was close enough to overhear, then leaned over the table, bringing an aroma of aftershave with him.
‘A few days ago, London and Washington dropped in a couple of recon teams north of here. One Delta, the other a British recon unit. They had orders to eyeball the situation on the ground between here and the border. They had satellite images showing movements on this side, and some pictures further north, but they needed visual confirmation of unit strengths here and in the mountains, and signs of whoever else might be taking an interest.’ He dropped the sly look, his face sombre. ‘Both teams were taken out after just three days. There’s been no word since.’
Mace muttered an oath and stood up, nearly upsetting the small table. Higgins didn’t move, his eyes on Harry.
‘How do you know this?’ said Harry.
‘How do you think?’ Higgins’ voice was soft, serious, no longer playing the gabby journalist role. ‘It wasn’t through CNN, that’s for sure.’ He clapped both hands together and stood up. ‘Whatever, I’m outta here. Got my orders to light out. You’d best do the same, you know what’s good for you.’ He glanced at Mace and continued, ‘Although from what I hear, getting out may be where your problems are just beginning.’
FORTY-SEVEN
Harry caught up with Mace as the older man walked unsteadily back towards the office. He looked badly shaken, and Harry didn’t think it was entirely to do with the drink.
‘What did he mean?’ He grabbed Mace’s arm, bringing him up short.
‘About what?’ Mace shook off Harry’s grip and dug in his jacket pocket for a slim packet of cigars. He selected one and unpeeled the wrapper with shaky fingers, then jammed it in his mouth and found a lighter. It took five attempts before he got a steady flame.
‘I didn’t know you smoked,’ said Harry.
‘There’s a lot you don’t know.’ He seemed to realize what that could imply and pulled a wry face. ‘But you do know what Higgins is.’
‘Yes.’
‘Then you’ll know he deals in misinformation.’
‘Really? That stuff about teams — that was misinformation?’
Mace spat out a fragment of tobacco leaf. ‘No. That was correct. They both went off the radar at about the same time. Must’ve been a coordinated strike.’
‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ Harry fought to remain calm. Something of this magnitude should have been passed to all hands. It was too important, no, too dangerous not to have everyone made aware of. If the Russians had taken out the reconnaissance teams, then they were definitely closer than anyone thought, and probably Spetznaz, their Special Forces troops. He remembered the soldier in the jeep, wearing the GRU insignia. Same community, same abilities.
Same enemy.
It seemed a waste of time mentioning it now.
The strength of Mace’s response came as a surprise. ‘What the hell makes you think,’ the head of station
