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Authors: Stella Rimington

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BOOK: Dead Line
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As Oskar set out, she turned around and faced the kennel building in the opposite direction. Kreuzer obediently did the same. Danny stood beside her and they talked for a minute, while Dougal wondered what was going on. He looked across to the trees and saw Oskar go round a clump of rhododendrons then emerge again, no longer holding the rag.

The handler turned around as Oskar rejoined them. ‘Now watch this,’ she said, and gave a sharp high whistle. At once the German pointer began moving agitatedly in circles, its nose held high in the air as it sniffed carefully. Suddenly it turned and raced at high speed across the grass, heading straight for the shrubs where Oskar had been. The dog charged right into the middle of the dark foliage and was lost from sight; when it came out seconds later, it had the rag in its mouth.

‘Bravo!’ shouted Naomi, as the dog trotted back with its find.

The handler nodded with satisfaction. ‘Good enough?’ she asked Danny, who was watching the dog intently.

‘Let’s try the decoys,’ Danny said, pointing with one arm in the direction of the small lake near the entrance drive.

‘Okay,’ said the handler. ‘I’ll just get the Labrador.’ As she walked off, Danny looked at Dougal. ‘There is no need for you to stay with us,’ he declared.

‘Oh,’ said Dougal, taken aback. ‘I’ll be getting back then. You know how to find me if you need me.’

Danny started towards the lake before he could even shake his hand. Graceless kind of bloke, thought Dougal, as he walked back to the hotel and his office. I don’t mind if I never see him again.

But he did, that very evening, as Dougal drove home to the small grace and favour cottage he lived in on a neighbouring estate. He had just left the hotel grounds and was passing the equestrian centre when he saw the Israeli, under the cover of some trees. He was talking urgently to a girl - a pretty girl with strawberry blond hair who was certainly not haggard-looking Naomi from the delegation. There was something about the look on the Israeli’s face that made it obvious he knew this girl; he wasn’t just casually saying hello. As he drove past, Dougal saw the girl’s face in his headlights, only fleetingly, but enough to recognise her at once - it was one of the waitresses in the hotel’s Italian restaurant. A foreign girl, very attractive. Janice? Something like that. Danny, you sly bastard, thought Dougal, not without a note of envy.

FORTY-TWO

 

She had been a forward kind of girl ever since she was small. Her father had died when she was four, and after that it had been her mother and little Jana all on their own. Her mother had told her you get nowhere by being shy, and from an early age she had been comfortable with adults - especially men, for it was men she mainly met. She’d started helping in the Moravian tavern where her mother worked almost as soon as she could read; taking her cue from her mother, she would talk easily with the customers, tease them when they wanted to be teased, play coquette when they wanted her to be a Shirley Temple. She’d even imitate the saucy way her mother spoke to Karl, the tavern owner, though it wasn’t until she was nearly twelve that she realised her mother’s duties included more than being a barmaid.

Moravia and her home town seemed a million miles away now. Her mother had been bitter when she’d told her that she was off to work in the West. ‘You can take the girl out of Ostrava,’ she’d warned, ‘but never Ostrava out of the girl. You will be back.’

Fat chance, thought Jana now, comparing the opulent surroundings of Gleneagles with her all-too-vivid memories of the smoke-filled, sour beer-soaked confines of the tavern that had been home. She worked hard in the restaurant here, but no harder than she had at home, and the pay was a fortune by Moravian standards; she’d even sent some money to her mother. She was fed well, and she got every seventh day off. Other waitresses complained about the quarters in the staff hostel behind the hotel, but to Jana they seemed positively luxurious.

True, the social life was a bit limited: the pubs in nearby Auchterarder were not exactly lively or even particularly friendly, especially when the locals heard her foreign accent. The other staff at the hotel were perfectly nice, but she didn’t have much in common with the girls, many of them Poles, and the boys were too young for her taste.

Not that she was looking for a serious romance. ‘You think you will find a knight in shining armour to sweep you away?’ her mother had demanded. ‘You think that’s what happens to waitresses and chambermaids?’

Of course she didn’t think that, though funnily enough the knight had appeared. He hadn’t exactly said he was going to sweep her away - but Sammy was a good lover, and he had said they’d see each other again.

And sure enough, he had texted her that he was coming back. But she was still surprised when she had glimpsed him, walking across the lawn towards the tennis courts that afternoon. She’d been tempted to call out to him, but didn’t when she saw that he was with some others -including young Dougal, who had tried to chat her up that night at the staff’s darts evening. He was sweet and not bad looking, but much too young for her.

There was a woman with Sammy, but she felt no need to be jealous. She was a real old frump.

Jana kept her mobile phone on while she served lunch and at three, while she was still clearing up after the late customers, there had been a text message.
6 pm by the equestrian centre. S
.

There was no sign of him on the road outside the equestrian centre and she waited impatiently. Then from a clump of dark fir trees at one side of the building came a low whistle. She moved cautiously towards the trees until she could make out a lean figure standing underneath a branch. Her heart lifted as she realised it was Sammy.

‘What are you doing in there?’

‘Shhhhh,’ he replied, stepping out from underneath the trees. He merged into the background in his black jeans and a grey turtleneck, but she could see his face clearly. Once again she thought how handsome he was.

‘What’s the matter? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?’ she demanded huffily.

‘Of course not,’ he said. ‘But we need to be careful, for your sake as well as mine. I’m here on business this time, with colleagues, and if they saw me with you it would be a bit hard to explain. They’re very strict about this sort of thing. I could be suspended, or even worse.’

‘Oh,’ she said, now sharing his concern.

A car accelerated on the road behind her and Sammy started, moving quickly back into the shelter of the trees. She followed more slowly and the car’s headlights just touched her as it passed. They stood under the bough of a tall spruce. She felt like a teenager on a furtive rendezvous. There was something thrilling about the whole encounter.

‘I didn’t know you were coming,’ she said a little petulantly.

‘I didn’t know myself, honestly. I only arrived last night. Anyway I’m here now,’ he added firmly.

‘How long are you staying?’

‘Only until tomorrow, I’m afraid.’

‘Well, at least that gives us tonight.’

‘Don’t you have to work?’

‘You’re in luck. I’ve got the night off.’ She had managed at the last minute to switch nights off with Sonja, one of the Polish girls. ‘What’s your room number this time?’ she asked, smiling up at him.

But he was shaking his head. ‘I’m not in the hotel. I’m sorry, but I’m in a Glenmor house with my colleagues. I can’t try and smuggle you in there; we’d get caught.’

‘Oh,’ she said, unable to disguise her annoyance. Why had he bothered to contact her then? ‘But you’ll be back for this conference, won’t you? Don’t tell me you’ll be staying with these people then.’

‘I won’t be staying at all. Officially I’m not going to be at the conference,’ he said flatly, then looking at her his tone softened. ‘But don’t worry - I’ll be nearby. Only no one’s to know that I’m around. It’s strictly hush-hush. Do you understand?’ There was a hard edge to his voice which scared Jana a little, and she nodded right away.

‘Good. Now listen to me,’ he said, putting an arm around her shoulders. She tried to snuggle up against his chest, but he held her away. She could feel the strength of his arms, and wished they could be somewhere more private. ‘There’s something I want you to do for me during the conference. Two things actually - things I can’t do myself, because I won’t be here. Will you do them for me?’

She looked up at him and said, ‘That depends.’

‘Depends on what?’ There was that hint of coldness in his voice again.

She detached herself from his arm, then took him by the hand. ‘It depends on how nice you are to me now.’ And she pulled him in the direction of the woods behind them.

‘What are you doing?’

‘You know. Come on,’ she said, ‘the pine needles back there are very soft.’

It was dark when she walked back to the hotel, brushing off the pine needles from the back of her skirt. She laughed inwardly at the ridiculousness of it all; she could have been a schoolgirl again, meeting Franz, the lawyer’s son, by the river near the tavern. But she couldn’t help herself; she had never been able to.

Besides, the man was
so
attractive, far too much so for her to miss the opportunity. He could be a little cold, Jana decided, almost steely, but then, that was part of his attraction.

She thought of what he had asked her to do. It certainly seemed odd, but she reassured herself that it couldn’t be anything wrong, or else he wouldn’t be coming back after all these international bigwigs had been and gone. She was a bit frightened, but she hadn’t wanted to admit that. She’d have to find someone else to do the other thing - how could she be five miles away at the same time she was waiting on tables at dinner? But she knew that her friend Mateo, one of the busboys, would do it for her. He was Spanish and he had an enormous family. What had he said? Twelve brothers and sisters. Five hundred pounds wasn’t to be sneezed at and all he had to do for it was walk up some hills.

FORTY-THREE

 

‘You’ve been shopping,’ said Liz, as Peggy Kinsolving walked into her office in a new trouser suit with a short jacket that showed off her figure.

Peggy blushed. ‘Do you like it?’ she asked.

Liz nodded. ‘It suits you,’ she said, thinking that things must be going well with Tim. Peggy didn’t usually bother much about clothes; but now, thought Liz, with a tinge of jealousy, she had someone to appreciate them.

They discussed what they’d come to call The Syrian Plot, Liz voicing her frustration at the lack of obvious leads. ‘Now that Bokus and Brookhaven are in the clear, the only element that keeps recurring is Mossad - or Kollek, actually. I think we need to home in on him. Why don’t you do some digging?’

‘Can I talk with people in Israel?’

‘I’d rather you didn’t for now.’

‘That won’t help,’ said Peggy.

Liz understood the complaint, but shook her head. ‘If we tell Mossad we’re interested in Kollek they’ll want to know exactly why, and we’ve promised the Americans to be discreet.’

‘What about other sources there? You know, his school and university.’

‘Sorry, no. It’s such a small country they’d soon find out we’d been asking. We can’t take the risk. I’m afraid you’ll have to stick to his time in the UK. Start with his visa application.’

‘Anything in particular I’m looking for?’

‘See if you can find out where else he’s been posted. Check with the friendlies and see if they know him. Show them his photograph - he might have been using other names. Talk to the FBI. They might have something on him that they haven’t shared with the CIA. But for heaven’s sake don’t blow Bokus’s little secret.’

‘It sounds a bit of a long shot.’

Liz knew Peggy wasn’t being negative, just realistic. ‘You never know,’ she said encouragingly. ‘Something may turn up and it’s all we’ve got to go on for now.’

After Peggy had left, Liz rang Sophie Margolis’s home number. Her friend picked up on the second ring.

‘Hi Sophie, it’s Liz. How are things?’

She listened patiently while Sophie told her the latest about her two children (school phobia and teething were the current concerns) and about David’s recent promotion.

‘And how about Hannah?’ Liz asked at last.

‘She’s fine. The peace conference has got her very excited.’

‘I’ll bet,’ said Liz. ‘Has she seen anything of our friend

Kollek lately?’

‘Funny you should ask. She hadn’t mentioned him for a while, but they’re having lunch just now, while we speak.’

‘Really?’ Liz thought quickly. ‘I’d like to talk to her about him if I could. He’s proving a bit of a puzzle - though please don’t say so to Hannah. Is there any chance I could drop in for a bit? Maybe this evening if that’s not too short notice.’

‘Of course. Come after work. You can share our chicken stir fry, if that’s an inducement. And don’t worry, I won’t say anything except that you’re dropping in.’

One more call to make. She looked through her phone book and found Edward Treglown’s work number. She slightly dreaded phoning, since they’d fixed the date almost two weeks before. The switchboard put her through to a secretary, who was frosty when Liz asked for Edward –‘Will he know what it’s about?’ had to be Liz’s least favourite telephone response.

But Edward came on straight away, sounding cheerful. ‘Hello, Liz. Your mother and I are both looking forward to this evening.’

‘Oh Edward,’ she said with undisguised regret, ‘that’s exactly why I’m ringing. I can’t make it. Something’s come up at work, and I have to see someone.’

The pause was almost imperceptible, and she thanked him mentally for the way he reacted. ‘Doesn’t matter. We’ll find another time. But listen, help me with something. If you can’t come, I’d like to do something special for your mother. She’ll be so disappointed not to see you. Have you any ideas?’

She had a sudden inspiration. ‘Why don’t you take her up in the Eye? There’s a special deal where they give you champagne.’

‘That sounds like the voice of experience,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘Splendid idea. Just sorry you can’t join us. Ring soon and we’ll make another plan.’

BOOK: Dead Line
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