The Last Temptation (24 page)

‘I’ve got everything. Passport, driving licence, credit cards, a couple of old utility bills and bank statements. I don’t have any Carol Jordan ID on me at all - I handed it all over to Larry for safekeeping.’ She smiled across at him. ‘Just don’t sell my warrant card on the black market, Larry.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Don’t tempt me.’

‘Next is how we stay in contact,’ Petra continued,

‘Now, I’ve got something that will help here,’ Candle butted in. ‘Carol, you’re going to have a laptop with you, right?’

‘That’s right The London boys set it up. It’s all Caroline Jackson stuff. A shedload of old e-mails, various business related files and letters. Plenty of stuff to back up my cover story and nothing that shouldn’t be there.’

Candle placed his showy aluminium briefcase on the table and snapped open the locks. He produced a flat black rectangle with a cable protruding from one end. “This is an auxiliary hard drive that you can plug straight into your laptop. It’s preloaded with all the access codes you need to get into TECS.’

‘TECS?’ Petra asked.

‘The Europol dedicated computer system. It incorporates an analysis system like the one you’ve trained on, Carol, together with an index system. And we’ve just got the information system up and running, so you can access all we hold on Radecki and his known associates. Everything Petra and

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her colleagues have passed on to us is in there, at the touch of a key. There’s also an encryption system that will allow you to send secure e-mail to anyone who has the key. Petra, we’re also going to make that available to you, so Carol can communicate securely with you via e-mail, which will be much safer than phone calls.

‘And to keep it out of sight…’ His hand went back into the briefcase and came out with a blue rubber box with a stubby antenna coming out of one corner. ‘The coolest radio in town,’ he said. ‘You can buy them in all the smartest shops. Only, this one’s different. The techies stripped out the guts of it and inserted a miniature radio. It works just like the original, but when you open it up -‘ he pushed a metal slider on the base of the radio and it fell neatly in half - ‘there’s a hiding place for your spare hard drive.’

Carol and Petra exchanged a look and burst out laughing. ‘Boys and their toys,’ Carol spluttered.

Gandle looked offended. ‘It does work, you know. I Nobody’s going to give it a second look.’

‘Sorry, Larry, it’s very clever,’ Carol said, not wanting to alienate her British back-up. ‘And you’re right, it’s entirely unsuspicious.’ She reached for the radio and slotted the hard drive into place then closed it up. She pressed a small blue rubber button and static crackled out of the speaker. ‘Very good. It’s exactly what I need, even if it does make me feel a bit like James Bond.’

‘So, that solves your communication problems,’ Gandle said, closing his briefcase with a self-satisfied smile.

‘Only technically,’ Petra said.

‘I’m sorry?’ Gandle said.

‘It’s not enough. Undercover is shit. It’s the scariest, most isolated place in the world. And then you have the added risk of Zelig’s Syndrome.’

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‘Zelig’s Syndrome?’ Candle frowned.

‘Like in Woody Allen’s film, Zelig. Zelig is so insecure that he becomes a human chameleon, taking on not only the style and manner but also the appearance of the people he moves among. It’s the big danger for the undercover cop. You spend so much time with these people, alienated from your own culture, that you start to identify with them.’

‘You go native,’ Carol said.

‘Precisely. E-mail is all very well for the exchange of information, but it will not protect you from yourself. For that, we need face-to-face contact.’

Candle looked dubious. ‘You already said that Radecki’s people are going to be suspicious around Carol. They’re going to be watching her. And, with respect, Petra, you’re a Berlin cop. Somebody’s bound to recognize you. The last thing we want is to take the risk of regular meetings between the pair of you.’

‘I think we can do this at no risk to Carol,’ Petra said firmly. ‘There is a very upscale women’s health club a few blocks away from the apartment. As well as the gym and the swimming pool, they have private sauna suites that members can book for half-hour sessions. This is not a place where Krasic or anyone else in Radecki’s inner circle can follow us. Trust me, Larry, I would not make an arrangement that would expose Carol.’

Candle looked dubious, but Carol nodded. ‘I agree, it’s important to keep me connected to the real world. Besides, sometimes you need to talk something through face to face. There might be things that I see or hear but don’t understand the significance of, things I might leave out of a written report because I don’t realize they’re important. But Petra will know the right questions to ask to draw the information out of me. I think she’s right, Larry. We need that regular contact.’

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Candle fiddled with his silk tie. ‘I don’t know, Carol. You will be going in and out of Berlin every seven to ten days, we were thinking that you’d get your debriefs then. In London or here.’ <

‘Ten days can be a very long time on the front line, Petra said. ‘It’s up to Carol, of course …’ She met Carol’s eyes, an expectant look on her face.

Carol gave an almost imperceptible nod. ‘What you have to remember is that I’ve never done undercover before. I want all the back-up I can get. If I get burned, I need to be able to get clear in a hurry. With the best will in the world, Larry, you’re not going to be much use to me up here in The Hague. If it all goes belly-up, Petra’s the one who’s going to have to deal with it on the spot. We need an arrangement to cover that eventuality. It’s not as if she’s going to be sitting glued to her computer twenty-four seven. And if the shit hits the fan, I may not even be able to get back to the apartment to access the computer. I want an insurance policy, Larry, and from where I’m sitting, that’s Petra.’

Candle pursed his lips. ‘I’m not happy about this. Maybe it would be better if I came to Berlin too. Then you could liaise directly with me.’

Carol shook her head. ‘You don’t know the background like Petra does, and you certainly don’t know the city like she does.’ He still looked mutinous. Time to play her ace. ‘Morgan told me I should set up systems that I felt comfortable with. And this works for me. If you’re still not happy, I suggest we run it past him.’

Candle flushed. ‘I don’t think that will be necessary. If it’s what you want, I’m prepared to support you. Though, for the record, I do have my reservations.’

‘Thank you,’ Carol said prettily. It was good to know that Morgan’s name carried as much clout as she had suspected.

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‘That’s settled, then. Petra, you said you wanted to talk about how I infiltrate Radecki’s world. What did you have in mind?’

‘If you are going to do these things, they should be done in style. I have a plan that I believe is both stylish and also calculated to hit Radecki in his weakest spot,’ Petra said.

Carol grinned. ‘I can’t wait to hear it.’

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The phone was ringing as Tony walked back into his office after a lecture that he feared had bored his students almost as much as it had him. He grabbed it as he slumped into his chair. ‘Tony Hill,’ he said, covering his ennui with a coating of brightness.

‘Dr Hill? This is Penny Burgess. I don’t know if you remember me …’

‘I remember you,’ he said abruptly. Penny Burgess had been the crime correspondent of the Bradfield Sentinel Times when Tony had been working with the local police on his first serial killer case. She’d dogged his footsteps and done her best to turn him into a household name.

‘The thing is, Tony, I was hoping we might have a little chat. In the light of what happened in the Court of Appeal this afternoon.’

The danger signs were flashing before his eyes. If Vance’s appeal had failed, nobody would care what he thought. ‘I’m sorry,’ he stalled. ‘I haven’t heard the news today. What are you talking about?’

‘Nobody called you?’ Penny sounded surprised.

‘I’ve been teaching. I literally just walked through the door when you rang. What happened in the Court of Appeal?’

‘The judges decided that Vance’s conviction for the murder of Shaz Bowman was unsafe.’

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Tony felt as if a pit had opened at his feet. A spasm of dizziness left him clinging with his free hand to the edge of the desk. Through the buzzing in his ears he could hear Penny Burgess speak. He compelled himself to listen to the words. ‘It’s not as bad as it seems,’ she was saying. ‘He was immediately rearrested and charged with the murder of Barbara Fenwick. He’s back behind bars, on remand. According to a police source of mine, there was a witness statement from a market trader in the original investigation that completely undermined the case and made the GPS decide not to proceed on that charge back then.’

‘I remember,’ Tony acknowledged.

‘Well, apparently, a BBC radio reporter has been investigating the case, and she’s managed to get the witness on tape admitting that he only said what he did because Vance asked him to. He’s now completely recanted his earlier statement. So there’s going to be another trial, and I hear that the GPS are quietly confident. I wondered what your thoughts on the matter were.’

‘I’ve got no comment to make,’ he said wearily.

Tm not asking you to comment on the new charges, obviously that’s sub judice. But you must be upset that he’s walked free of the murder of someone you were mentoring.’

‘Like I said, I’ve got no comment.’ Tony gently replaced the receiver on its cradle. He wanted to slam it down hard enough to break the plastic casing, but the habit of self control was too deeply ingrained for that. He closed his eyes and let out his breath in a long steady stream. That bastard Vance had once threatened to make his life a misery. It looked as though he was fulfilling his promise. He might well be convicted of other killings now, but he had wriggled out of the one murder conviction that really mattered to Tony. Not only that, but the relative anonymity he’d

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struggled to find had been shattered with a single phone call. Before he could do anything else, the phone rang again. This time, he ignored it. He wondered how long he’d be able to carry on doing that before some bright spark from the university press office decided that what they really needed was the sort of high profile that an interview with Tony Hill(| could bring. He jumped to his feet and made for the door. B Time to go into hiding.

Sometimes there were distinct advantages in having a brother who was a computer expert. Carol had learned enough from Michael to recognize what a program file looked like, which meant she’d been able to identify the encryption software on the secondary hard disk that Candle had given her. It had been the work of a few minutes to transmit the program on to her brother in Manchester, asking him to forward it to Tony, complete with instructions on how to install it. As a result, they were now exchanging e-mails in complete security. Of course, it was all highly irregular - a breach of the Official Secrets Act at the very least. She’d had a moment of doubt, understanding only too well how her apparent cavalier regard for security might be interpreted by someone who didn’t know Tony. But it had only been a moment. She knew nobody more committed to confidentiality than Tony, nor anyone who could be more help at the sharp end of a complicated investigation. And Carol had always trusted her maverick streak to do what was best. She had warned Michael on pain of death not to spread the software any further, and she felt sure she could trust him. If it ever came to light, she would plead Morgan’s orders that she should do whatever it took to make her feel secure.

This evening, more than ever, she was glad their line of communication was open. For she had something in her

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possession that might just tempt Tony out of his self-imposed retirement. More than that, it might bring him to her side. Carol frowned at the computer screen. She needed to get this one absolutely right. Impatiently, she pushed the chair back from the desk and paced the room, trying to gather her thoughts.

The apartment in Berlin was everything Petra had promised. Comfortable without attempting opulence, quiet and secure, its anonymity was somehow less impersonal than that of a hotel room. Caroline Jackson would relish those same qualities, she felt sure. The few personal items in the room marked it out as the territory of her alter ego. She’d never have chosen those books, that photograph frame, those extravagantly ostentatious flowers for herself. But for this evening she needed to remind herself that she was Carol Jordan. Caroline Jackson would be no help whatsoever in composing the finely balanced e-mail she needed to send; for that, she needed all her own qualities of mind.

The past few days had been a whirlwind of mental activity. She’d been astonished by how much information Petra Becker had on Tadeusz Radecki, and she could well imagine how frustrated her German contact had become with her team’s apparent inability to close down his operations and put him behind bars. He seemed to operate with complete impunity, largely because he had never made the mistake of most criminals, who eventually came to believe in their own invincibility. It was that hubris that brought most of them to disaster, Carol knew from her own experience. But Radecki had never lost the habit of constant caution. His was a recipe for success; he trusted few people, he understood the difference between turning a good profit and greed, and he apparently never breached the firewalls between his deceptively immaculate public persona and the dirty businesses that kept him in style.

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The icing on this perfect cake was Krasic, a man who had cultivated a reputation for brutal ruthlessness with apparent glee.

But although Radecki had managed to stay beyond the reach of legal sanction, it hadn’t rendered him immune from the relentless probing of Petra Becker. The dossier she had assembled on him was remarkable. Everything from his taste in music to the shops where he bought his clothes was documented. Assimilating this had been Carol’s first task, and it brought with it a genuine taste of the undercover life. She had to retain as much of this information as she possibly could while simultaneously shunting it to the back of her mind. Caroline Jackson would know almost nothing of Radecki’s life and tastes, and Carol found the necessity of splitting her mind in two profoundly dislocating. That was when she had decided, to hell with protocol, she needed a conduit to Tony.