‘
‘I’m unsighted,’ Harry told him. ‘The memorial’s in the way.’
‘It’s OK, I’ve got him.’ Rik gave a sigh of relief. ‘He’s approaching Joanne’s position now.’
They were both tense, checking the area for signs of watchers, knowing this was the time of maximum threat. If the killer knew Rafa’i was here, he could make an approach from almost any direction. If he was determined enough, he might even make his play now, rather than waiting for a more convenient opportunity.
Rafa’i approached to within a few feet of Joanne. He looked nervous, but must have spoken, because Joanne looked up and smiled, then gestured to the grass alongside her.
But Rafa’i shook his head and pointed towards the Mall. He wanted to move away from the lake, and into the illusory safety of the trees. For once, Joanne seemed unsure. She hesitated, almost glancing at Rik, which would have been a mistake, then shook her head. Rafa’i responded with an emphatic jerk of his hand.
He was too scared of the open. He wanted to find cover.
From his position on the open parade ground, Harry was watching the people nearby, scanning faces and checking body language.
He had discounted a car attack as impractical; it was too easy to get snarled up in this area, with no guaranteed way out. Similarly, another motorbike, although ideal as an attack vehicle with its speed and manoeuvrability, would stand out too much in this environment.
That left someone on foot. Although still early for the bulk of tourists, there was an alarming number of them moving through the area, any one of which could be a potential threat.
He concentrated on single walkers, dismissing the elderly or infirm, anyone who didn’t fit the bill of an agile and capable assassin. Pinstripe suits abounded, briefcases in hand, and smart office workers hurried across the open expanse of the parade ground. Nobody stopping, nobody loitering suspiciously. It was all very normal.
He swung back to Joanne. She seemed to be in urgent discussion with Rafa’i, leaning forward as if to emphasize a point. The Iraqi was shaking his head, casting glances around him as if looking for someone. Joanne must have broached the matter of Harry and Rik, as they had planned. He evidently wasn’t impressed.
Then Joanne gave another prearranged signal. She waved her hand in a lazy motion around her head as if brushing away flies. It was the signal to move in, but slowly. If they could talk to him, they might manage to convince him of their desire to help. If not, he would keep on running until the killer caught him.
Harry began walking across the parade ground towards them, skirting a group of American ladies. He saw Rik break cover to his left and move across the grassy area around the lake. In the background was the gingerbread- like building that was Duck Island Cottage. They each had over two hundred metres to cover before they reached Joanne and Rafa’i.
The gap had narrowed to fifty metres when a flock of pigeons burst noisily into the air by the lake. It was on the perimeter path where Rafa’i had first appeared. Simultaneously, a group of tourists separated in a flurry of squeals and laughter, driven apart by the sudden noisy take-off of the birds. It left a gap showing the perimeter path and the stretch of park beyond.
A lone figure was walking towards them.
He was of medium height, slim and lithe, dressed in dark jeans and a black anorak, and had one hand tucked into a side pocket. Something about the man’s appearance set alarm bells ringing in Harry’s head. Then he realized what it was: unlike everyone else in the immediate vicinity, the man had shown no reaction to the flurry of birds moving off. He was focussed solely on a point in front of him, face pinched in concentration.
He was looking directly at Joanne and Rafa’i.
‘
They both started running.
Joanne, her attention drawn by the birds, had spotted him, too, because in the same instant, she rose to her feet. Reaching out and grabbing Rafa’i’s hand, she began dragging him away towards the south side of the park and Birdcage Walk. He resisted slightly, but she spoke to him and pointed with her camera at the man in the anorak. Whatever she said was clearly enough to persuade Rafa’i to go with her.
The man in the anorak broke into a fast jog, scattering tourists and more birds. He disappeared behind the bushes for a few moments, then came back into view, covering the ground with surprising speed. It was obvious that he was fit and agile and would soon run down the Iraqi, who was having trouble moving quickly, his movements stiff and awkward.
Harry veered to intercept the newcomer. He shouted a warning, causing a few nearby tourists to spin round. Someone laughed, as if unsure whether this wasn’t some unusual tourist event for their benefit. A burst of Japanese echoed after the attacker as he elbowed aside a short, squat lady festooned with cameras.
At that moment, the man spotted Harry. He increased his pace, jumping over a couple sitting on the grass, one hand still in his pocket.
Harry knew he wasn’t going to make it in time. He wasn’t a fast enough runner and the angle was all against him. The attacker’s line of approach meant he was drawing ahead and was now within striking distance of Rafa’i, who was still struggling to keep up with Joanne in spite of her hold on his arm.
Then Rik appeared. He was on a collision course with the attacker. Before the man realized he was vulnerable, Rik had hurdled the metal fencing around the grass and struck him with his shoulder, driving the attacker off his feet and sending him spinning away across the ground with a savage
‘Keep going!’ Rik yelled to Joanne. He was wincing and holding his shoulder, but was able to stay on his feet. He turned to face the attacker, who had rolled away and was getting to his feet, struggling for breath. When he took his hand out of his pocket, he was holding a foldaway knife.
He flicked it open, the blade glinting in the sun.
FORTY
Harry drove on, his breathing becoming harsh. His knees were hurting and he had a pain building in his chest, and he wondered why he hadn’t kept up a better level of fitness. He swore loudly in frustration.
It was enough to make the knife man turn his head. When he saw how close Harry was, he stopped and thrust out the knife, gesturing at them with a short stabbing motion, his face empty of emotion. Then, before either of them could get any closer, he turned and raced away and was soon lost among the walkers around the south side of the lake.
‘Rik. . you all right?’ Harry skidded to a halt alongside him. He saw a flash of colour in the background as a police patrol car turned into Horse Guards Road. ‘Heads up — police.’ If the police stopped them, they could be tied up for hours answering pointless questions.
Rik bent and rubbed his side. ‘I’m fine. Just winded.’
‘Same here. If they stop us, it was a mugging that went wrong, OK? The victims ran off, too. We can’t let them take Rafa’i or Joanne in for questioning.’
‘Fair enough.’ Rik took a whooping breath of air and winced. ‘Shit. . I think I did a rib in. That bastard was as hard as nails. It was like running into a tree. I wonder why he backed off.’
Harry shrugged. ‘Maybe he didn’t like the odds. We were lucky he didn’t have anything more lethal than a blade.’
The police car drifted to a stop alongside them, the passenger window dropping.
‘Everything all right, sir?’ The officer in the passenger seat studied them coolly. His driver was using his radio, but didn’t appear unduly concerned. In the background, a woman officer was watching from a wooden police box behind one of the government buildings.
Harry wondered how much she had seen. ‘No problem,’ he replied. ‘A bloke ran towards a couple and my friend thought he was after a handbag. It was a mistake.’ He gestured towards Rik, who was still looking winded.
