False Impression (24 page)

The man she had
watched from the check-in counter as he ran up to Sergei’s taxi and tapped on
the window wasn’t hoping for a ride, although Sergei had clearly taken him for
one. Anna wondered if it had been her phone calls to Tina that had given her
away. She felt confident her close friend would never have betrayed her, so she
must have become an unwitting accomplice. Leapman was well capable of tapping
her phone, and far worse.

Anna had
purposely dropped clues in her last two conversations to find out if there was
an eavesdropper, and they must have been picked up: going home and there will
be a lot of people like that where I’m going. Next time she would plant a clue
that would send Fenston’s man in completely the wrong direction.

Jack sat in
business class sipping a Diet Coke and trying to make some sense of the past
two days. If you’re out there on your own, always prepare for the worst-case
scenario, his SSA used to repeat ad nauseam to each new recruit.

He tried to
think logically. He was pursuing a
woman
who had
stolen a sixty-million-dollar painting, but had she left the picture in
Bucharest, or had it been transferred into the new crate, with the intention of
selling the painting to someone in Hong Kong? Then he turned his thoughts to
the other person who was pursuing Anna. That was easier to explain. If Petrescu
had stolen the painting, the woman was clearly employed by Fenston to follow
her until she found out where the picture was. But how did she always know
where Anna would be, and did she now realize that he was also following her?
And what were her instructions once she’d caught up with the Van Gogh? Jack
felt the only way he could redeem himself was to get a step ahead of both of
them and somehow stay there.

He found himself
falling into a trap that he regularly warned his junior officers to be wary of.
Don’t be lulled into believing that the suspect is innocent. A jury will make
that decision for you.

You must always
assume they are guilty, and occasionally, very occasionally, be surprised. He
didn’t remember his instructor saying anything about what to do if you found
the suspect attractive.

Although there
was a directive in the FBI training manual that stated: ‘Under no circumstances
must an agent enter into a personal relationship with any person under
investigation.’ In 1999 the guide had been updated following a Congressional
directive, when the words ‘male or female’ had been added before ‘person’.

But it still
puzzled Jack what Anna intended to do with the Van Gogh. If she was about to
try and sell the picture in Hong Kong, where would she deposit such a huge sum
of money, and how could she hope to benefit from the spoils of her crime? Jack
couldn’t believe she was willing to live in Bucharest for the rest of her life.

And then he
remembered that she had visited Wentworth Hall.

Krantz sat alone
in first class. She always flew first class, because it allowed her to be the
last on, and first off, any flight, especially when she knew exactly where her
victim was travelling.

But now she was
aware someone else was following Petrescu, she would have to be even more
cautious. After all, she couldn’t afford to kill Petrescu with an audience
watching, even if it was an audience of one.

Krantz was
puzzled by who the tall, dark-haired man could be, and who he was reporting
back to. Had Fenston sent someone else to check up on her, or was the man
working for a foreign government? If so, which one? It had to be Romanian or
American.

He was certainly
a professional because she hadn’t spotted him before, or after, his crass
mistake with the yellow taxis. She assumed he must be an American. She hoped
so, because if she had to kill him, that would be a bonus.

Krantz didn’t
relax on the long flight to Hong Kong. Her instructor in Moscow was fond of
repeating that concentration usually lapsed on the fourth day.
Tomorrow.

‘
Those passengers
travelling to onward destinations...’

That’s all I
need,’ muttered Jack.

What do you
need, sir?’ asked an attentive stewardess.

Transit.’

‘Where is your
final destination, sir?’

‘I have no
idea,’ said Jack. ‘What’s the choice?’

The stewardess
laughed. ‘Are you still hoping to travel east?’

That makes
sense.’

Then it has to
be Tokyo, Manila, Sydney or Auckland.’

Thank you,’ said
Jack, thinking, that doesn’t help, but adding out loud, ‘If I decided to spend
the night in Hong Kong, I would have to go through passport control, whereas if
I wanted transit The stewardess continued to humour him, When you disembark,
sir, there are clear signs directing you to baggage claim or transit.

Is your luggage
booked through, sir, or will you be picking it up?’

‘I don’t have
any luggage,’ Jack admitted.

The stewardess
nodded, smiled and left to attend to some of her more sane passengers.

Jack realized
that once he disembarked he would have to move quickly if he hoped to locate a
concealed vantage point from where he could observe Anna’s next move, and not
be observed by her other admirer.

Anna stared
distractedly out of the cabin window as the plane descended smoothly into Chek
Lap Kok airport.

She would never
forget her first experience of flying into Hong Kong some years before. To
begin with, it felt like a normal approach, and then at the last moment, without
warning, the pilot banked steeply and headed straight for the hills. He then
descended between the
city
high-rises, bringing gasps
from first timers, before finally bumping down the short runway into Kowloon,
as if he were auditioning for a part in a 1944 war movie.

When the plane
came to a halt, several of the passengers applauded. Anna was glad that the new
airport meant she would not have to experience a repeat performance.

She checked her
watch. Although the flight was running twenty minutes late, her onward
connection wasn’t scheduled for another couple of hours. She would use any
spare time to pick up a guide to Tokyo, a city she had never visited before.

Once they’d come
to a halt at the terminal gate, Anna progressed slowly down the aisle, waiting
for other passengers to rescue their bags from the overhead lockers. She looked
around, wondering if Fenston’s man was watching her every move. She tried to
remain calm, though in truth her heartbeat must have shot above a hundred every
time a man even glanced in her direction.

She felt sure he
must have already disembarked and would now be lying in wait. Perhaps he even
knew her final destination. Anna had already decided on the false piece of
information she would drop, when she next phoned Tina, that would send
Fenston’s man flying in the wrong direction.

Anna stepped off
the aircraft and looked around her for the sign. At the end of a long corridor,
an arrow directed transit passengers to the left. She joined a handful of travellers
heading for other destinations, while the majority of passengers turned right.

When she walked
into the transit area, she was greeted by a neon-lit city, half as old as
Swatch, lurking in wait for its imprisoned customers to part with their foreign
currency. Anna strolled from shop to shop, admiring the latest fashions,
electrical equipment, cellphones and jewellery. Although she saw several items
she would have considered in normal circumstances, because of her pecuniary
predicament the only shop she thought about entering was a bookmart, displaying
foreign newspapers and all the latest bestsellers – in several languages. She
strolled across to the travel section, to be faced with row upon row of
gazetteers of countries as far afield as Azerbaijan and Zanzibar.

Her eyes settled
on the section on Japan, which included a shelf devoted to Tokyo. She picked up
the Lonely Planet guide to Japan, along with a Berlitz mini guide to the
capital. She began to flick through them.

Jack slipped
into an electrical shop on the other side of the mall from where he had a clear
sightline of his quarry. All he could make out was that she was standing below
a large, multicoloured Travel sign. Jack would have liked to get close enough
to discover which title was causing her to turn the pages so intently, but he
knew he couldn’t risk it. He began to count down the shelves in an attempt to
pinpoint which country had monopolized her attention.

‘Can I assist
you, sir?’ asked the young lady behind the counter.

‘Not unless you
have a pair of binoculars,’ said Jack, not taking his eyes off Anna.

‘Several,’
replied the assistant, ‘and can I recommend this particular model? They are
this week’s special offer, reduced from ninety dollars to sixty, while stocks
last.’

Jack looked round
as the young girl removed a pair of binoculars from the shelf behind her and
placed them on the counter.

‘Thank you,’
said Jack. He picked them up and focused them on Anna.

She was still
turning the pages of the same book but Jack couldn’t make out the title.

Td
like
to see your latest model,’ he said, placing the special
offer back on the counter.
‘One that could focus on a street
sign at a hundred metres.’

The assistant
bent down, unlocked the display cabinet and extracted another pair.

“These are Leica,
top-of-the-range, 12x50,’ she assured him.

Tou could
identify the label on the coffee they’re serving in the cafe opposite.’

Jack focused on
the bookshop. Anna was replacing the book she had been reading, only to extract
the one next to it. He had to agree with the assistant, they were top of the
range. He could make out the word Japan and even the letters TOKYO that were
displayed above the shelf Anna was taking so much interest in.

Anna closed the
book, smiled and headed across to the counter.

She also picked
up a copy of the Herald Tribune as she waited in the queue.

They are good,
yes?’ said the assistant.

‘Very good,’
said Jack, replacing the binoculars on the counter,

‘
but
I’m afraid they’re out of my budget. Thank you,’ he
added, before leaving the shop.

‘Strange,’ said
the girl to her colleague behind the counter. ‘I never even told him the
price.’

Anna had reached
the head of the line and was paying for her two purchases when Jack headed off
in the opposite direction. He joined another queue at the far end of the
concourse.

When he reached
the front of the line, he asked for a ticket to Tokyo.

Tes,
sir, which flight – Cathay Pacific or Japan Airlines?’

‘When do they
leave?’ asked Jack.

‘Japan Airlines
will be boarding shortly, as the flight departs in forty minutes. Cathay’s
flight 301 is due to take off in an hour and a half.’

‘Japan Airlines
please,’ said Jack, ‘business class.’

‘How many bags
will you be checking in?’

‘Hand
luggage only.’

The sales assistant
printed the ticket, checked his passport and said, ‘If you proceed to gate
seventy-one, Mr Delaney, boarding is about to commence.’

Jack walked back
towards the coffee shop. Anna was sitting at the counter, engrossed in the book
she had just purchased. He was even more careful to avoid her gaze, as he felt
sure she now realized she was being followed. Jack spent the next few minutes
purchasing goods from shops he wouldn’t normally have visited, all made
necessary by the woman perched on the corner stool in the coffee shop. He ended
up with an overnight bag, which would be allowed on board as hand luggage, a
pair of jeans, four shirts, four pairs of socks, four pairs of underpants, two
ties (special offer),
a
packet of razors, shaving
cream, aftershave, soap, toothbrush and toothpaste. He hung around inside the
pharmacy waiting to see if Anna was about to move.

‘Last
call for passengers on Japan Airlines flight 416 to Tokyo.

Please proceed
immediately to Gate Seventy-one for final boarding.’

Anna turned
another page of her book, which convinced Jack that she must be booked onto the
Cathay Pacific flight leaving an hour later. This time he would be waiting for
her. He tugged at his overnight bag and followed the signs for Gate 71. Jack
was among the last to board the aircraft.

Anna checked her
watch, ordered another coffee and turned her attention to the Herald Tribune.
The pages were full of stories on the aftermath of 9/11, with a report on die
memorial service held in Washington DC attended by the President. Did her
family and friends still believe diat she was dead, or just missing? Had the
news that she’d been seen in London already percolated back to New York?
Clearly Fenston still wanted everyone to believe she was dead, at least until
he got his hands on the Van Gogh. All that would change in Tokyo, if...
Something made her look up and she spotted a young man with thick, dark hair
staring at her. He quickly looked away. She jumped off her stool and walked
straight across to him.