False Impression (25 page)

‘Are you
following me, by any chance?’ she demanded.

The man gave
Anna a startled look. ‘
Non
, non, mademoiselle, mais
peut-etre voulez-vous prendre un verre avec moi?’

This is the
first call for...’

Two more eyes
were also watching Anna as she apologized to the Frenchman, settled her bill,
and made her way slowly to Gate 69.

Krantz only let
her out of her sight after she’d boarded the plane.

Krantz was among
the last passengers to board flight CX 301. On entering the aircraft, she
turned left and took her usual window seat in the front row. Krantz knew that
Anna was seated at the back of economy, but she had no idea where the American
was.

Had he missed
the flight, or was he roaming around Hong Kong searching for Petrescu?

J
ack’s flight
touched down at Narita international airport,

Tokyo, thirty
minutes late, but he wasn’t anxious, because he was an hour ahead of both
women, who would still be some 30,000 feet above the Pacific. Once Jack had
cleared customs, his first stop was the enquiry desk, where he asked what time
the Cathay flight was due to land. Just over forty minutes.

He turned and
faced the arrivals gate, then tried to work out in which direction Petrescu
would go once she had cleared customs.

What would be
her first choice of transport into the city: taxi, rail or bus? She would have
to decide after she’d progressed a mere fifty yards. If she was still in
possession of the crate, it would surely have to be a taxi. Having checked out
every possible exit, Jack handed over five hundred dollars at a Bank of Tokyo booth,
in exchange for 53,868 yen. He placed the large-denomination notes in his
wallet and returned to the arrivals hall, where he watched people assemble as
they waited for the most recent arrivals. He looked up. Above him, to his left,
was a mezzanine floor, which overlooked the hall. He walked up the stairs and
inspected the space. Although the area was cramped, it was nevertheless ideal.

There were two
telephone booths fixed to the wall, and if he stood behind the second one, he
could look down on any new arrivals without being spotted. Jack checked the
board. CX 301 was due to land in twenty minutes. Easily enough time for him to
carry out his final task.

He left the
airport and stood in the taxi queue, which was being organized by a man in a
light blue suit and white gloves, who not only controlled the taxis but
directed the passengers. When he reached the front, Jack climbed into the back
of the distinctive green Toyota and instructed a surprised driver to park on
the other side of the road.

Wait here until
I return,’ he added, leaving his new bag on the back seat. 1 should be about
thirty minutes, forty at the most.’ He removed a 5,000-yen note from his
wallet. ‘And you can keep the meter running.’ The driver nodded, but looked
puzzled.

Jack returned to
the airport to find that flight CX 301 had just landed. He walked back up to
the terrace and took his place behind the second phone booth. He waited to see
who would be the first through the door with the familiar green and white
Cathay Pacific label attached to their luggage. It had been a long time since
Jack had waited to pick up one girl at an airport, let alone two. And would he
even recognize his blind date?

The indicator
board flicked over once again. Passengers on flight CX 301 were now in the
baggage hall. Jack began to concentrate. He didn’t have long to wait. Krantz
was first through the door – she needed to be, she had work to do. She headed
for a melee of eagerly waiting locals, who weren’t much taller than her. She
nestled in behind them before she risked turning around.

From time to
time, the patient crowd moved like a slow wave, as some people departed, while
others took their place. Krantz moved with the tide so that no one would notice
her. But a blonde crew cut standing among a black-haired race made Jack’s task
a lot easier. If she then followed Anna, Jack would know for certain
who
he was up against.

While Jack kept
one eye on the thin, short, muscular woman with the blonde crew cut, he
repeatedly turned back to check on the new arrivals who were now swarming
through the exit in little clusters, several with green and white labels
attached to their luggage. Jack gingerly took a step forward, praying she
wouldn’t look up, but her eyes remained doggedly fixed on the new arrivals.

She must have
also worked out that there were only three exit routes for Anna to consider,
because she was strategically placed to pounce in whichever direction her
quarry selected.

Jack slipped a
hand into an inside pocket, slowly removed the latest Samsung cellphone,
flicked it open and focused it directly towards the crowd below him. For a
moment he couldn’t see her, then an elderly man stepped forward to greet his
visitor and she was exposed for a split second. Click
,
then once again she disappeared.

Jack continually
switched his attention back to the new arrivals, who were still pouring out
into the hall. As he turned back, a mother bent down to pick up an errant child
and she was exposed again,
click
, and just as suddenly
disappeared from sight.

Jack turned to
watch as Anna came striding through the swing doors. He closed his phone,
hoping that one of the two images would be enough for the tech guys to identify
her.

Jack’s wasn’t
the only head to turn when the slim, blonde American strode into the arrivals
hall pushing a luggage cart with a suitcase and a wooden crate on board. He
stepped back into the shadows the moment Petrescu paused to look up. She was
checking the exit boards. She turned right.
Taxi.

Jack knew that
Petrescu would also have to join a long queue before she could hope to get a
cab, so he allowed both women to leave the airport before he came down from the
balcony. When he eventually descended, Jack took a circuitous route back to his
taxi. He walked to the far end of the hall and then out onto the sidewalk. He
ducked behind a waiting bus on his way to the underground parking lot,
then
continued along the second row of cars and out of the
far end of the garage. He was relieved to see the green Toyota still waiting
for him, engine running,
meter
ticking. He climbed
into the back seat and said to the driver, ‘See the blonde with a crew cut,
seventh in the taxi line? I want you to follow her, but she mustn’t know.’

Jack’s eyes
returned to Petrescu, who was fifth in the line. When she reached the front,
she didn’t climb into the waiting taxi, but turned round and walked slowly to
the back of the line. Clever girl, thought Jack as he waited to see how Crew
Cut would react. Jack tapped his own driver on the shoulder, and said, ‘Don’t
move,’ when Crew Cut stepped into the back of a taxi, which drove off and
disappeared around the corner. Jack knew she’d be parked in a side turning only
a few yards away waiting for Petrescu to reappear. Eventually, Petrescu reached
the front again. Jack tapped his driver on the shoulder and said, ‘Follow that
woman, stay well back, but don’t lose her.’

‘But it isn’t
the same woman.’ queried the taxi driver.

‘I know/ said
Jack. ‘Change of plan.’

The driver
looked perplexed. Japanese don’t understand ‘change of plan’.

As Petrescu’s
taxi drove past him and onto the freeway, Jack watched an identical vehicle
come out of a side road and slip in behind her. At last it was Jack’s turn to
be the pursuer, and not the pursued.

For the first
time, Jack was thankful for the notorious snarl-ups and never-ending traffic
jams that are the accepted norm for anyone driving from Narita airport into the
city centre. He was able to keep his distance while never losing sight of
either of them.

It was another
hour before Petrescu’s taxi came to a halt outside the Hotel Seiyo in the Ginza
district. A bell boy stepped forward to help with her luggage, but the moment
he saw the wooden crate, he motioned for a colleague to assist him. Jack didn’t
consider entering the hotel until some time after Petrescu and the box had
disappeared inside. But not Crew Cut. She was already secreted in the far
corner of the lobby with a clear view of the staircase and elevators, out of
sight of anyone working behind the reception desk.

The moment he
spotted her, Jack retreated through the swing doors and back out into the
courtyard. A bell boy rushed forward.

‘Do you want a
taxi, sir?’

‘No, thank you,’
he said, and, pointing to a glass door on the other side of the courtyard,
enquired,
What’s
that?’

‘Hotel health
club, sir,’ replied the bell boy.

Jack nodded,
walked round the perimeter of the courtyard and entered the building. He
strolled up to reception.

‘Room number,
sir?’ he was asked by a young man sporting a hotel tracksuit.

‘I can’t
remember,’ said Jack.

‘Name
?5

‘Petrescu.’

‘Ah, yes, Dr
Petrescu,’ said the young man looking at his screen,

‘
room
118. Do you need a locker, sir?’

‘Later,’ said
Jack.
“When my wife joins me.’

He took a seat
by the window overlooking the courtyard and waited for Anna to reappear. He
noted that there were always two or three taxis waiting in line, so following
her should not prove too much of a problem. But if she reappeared without the
crate, he was in no doubt that Crew Cut, who was still sitting in the lounge,
would be working on a plan to relieve his ‘wife’ of its contents.

While Jack sat
patiently by the window, he flicked open his cellphone and dialled through to
Tom in London. He tried not to think what time it was.

Where are you?’
asked Tom, when he saw the name ‘Good Cop’ flash up on his screen.

‘Tokyo.’

‘What’s Petrescu
doing there?’

‘I can’t be
sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she isn’t trying to sell a rare painting
to a well-known collector.’

‘Have you found
out who the other interested party is?’

‘No,’ said Jack,
‘but I did manage to get a couple of images of her at the airport.’

Well done,’ said
Tom.

‘I’m sending the
pictures through to you now,’ said Jack. He keyed a code into his phone and the
images appeared on Tom’s screen moments later.

‘They’re a bit
blurred,’ was Tom’s immediate response, ‘but I’m sure the tech guys can clean
them up enough to try and work out who she is.
Any other
information?’

‘She’s around
five foot, slim, with a blonde crew cut and the shoulders of a swimmer.’

‘Anything else?’
asked Tom, as he made notes.

‘Yes, when
you’ve finished with the American mug shots, move on to Eastern Europe. I’ve
got a feeling she may be Russian, or possibly Ukrainian.’

‘Or even
Romanian?’ suggested Tom.

‘Oh God, I’m so
dumb,’ said Jack.

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‘Bright
enough to get two photos.
No one else has managed that, and they
may turn out to be the biggest break we’ve had in this case.’

‘I’d be only too
happy to bask in a little glory,’ admitted Jack,

‘
but
the truth is that both of them are well aware of my
existence.’

‘Then I’d better
find out who she is pretty fast. I’ll be back in touch as soon as the boys in
the basement come up with anything.’

Tina turned on
the switch under her desk. The little screen on the corner came on. Fenston was
on the phone. She flicked up the switch to his private line, and listened.

Tou were right,’
said a voice, ‘she’s in Japan.’

Then she
probably has an appointment with Nakamura. All his details are in your file.
Don’t forget that getting the painting is more important than removing
Petrescu.’

Fenston put the
phone down.

Tina was
confident that the voice fitted the woman she had seen in the chairman’s car.
She must warn Anna.

Leapman walked
into the room.

A
nna stepped out of
the shower, grabbed a towel and began drying her hair. She glanced across at
the digital clock in the corner of the TV screen. It was just after twelve, the
hour when most Japanese businessmen go to their club for lunch. Not the time to
disturb Mr Nakamura.

Once she was
dry, Anna put on the white towelling bathrobe that hung behind the bathroom
door. She sat on the end of the bed and opened her laptop. She tapped in her
password, MIDAS, which accessed a file on the richest art collectors around the
globe: Gates, Cohen, Lauder, Magnier, Nakamura, Rales, Wynn.

She moved the
cursor across to his name.
Takashi Nakamura, industrialist.
Tokyo University 1966-70, BSc in engineering.
UCLA