Chameleon - A City of London Thriller (33 page)

Katie was much
more astute than Dee had given her credit for. Katie had asked to
see the certificates and audits that showed where the materials had
come from and who had manufactured them. Once she was satisfied
that the evidence was in order, she asked to see copies of the
payslips for the Sri Lankan girls and women who had tailored the
clothes. Noting that some of the girls were as young as twelve, she
asked to see Maxi. There followed a long discussion which resulted
in Maxi persuading Katie that the girls were still in education but
that they had to help support their parents, and for many it was a
choice between selling their sewing skills or their
bodies.

It was only
after this twice yearly audit that Katie donned the first of the
outfits. She had now been sitting in front of the lights for almost
five hours and when she was finished, at 8pm, she would be hosting
a video web chat with Green Earth Fashion customers and fans of the
Clara Campbell movies.

Dee had taken
the opportunity of leaving Katie with the Green Earth security men
for an hour, earlier in the day, when she had been able to meet up
with Geordie.

***

It was hard to
believe that just a week had passed since the assassination of the
Hokobus, and Pete was still feeling the effects of his failure to
protect them. He walked past St. James’ Church on Piccadilly,
glancing down St James’ Place to see if there was any sign of Dee
outside Green Earth’s premises. There wasn’t. It was unlikely
anyway because, although the freezing conditions had passed for the
time being, it was still wet and cold in the capital. As if to
confirm his limited expectations of the weather, a steady drizzle
started to fall. Pete walked briskly on past the stone entrance of
the BAFTA offices and Princess Arcade to Ristorante Bagio, which
combined a cafe and restaurant. As he opened the door, Franco
stepped up to greet him and shake his hand vigorously.

“
Mr Pete, so
nice to see you again! You wanna use my upstairs office for stake
out again?”

“
No thanks,
Franco, I just want a drink and maybe a bowl of pasta,” Geordie
replied as he removed his leather jacket.

“
Ah, it is a
pity; I made more money on the stake out than I took in the cafe
that entire two weeks,” Franco lamented as he departed to the
kitchen.

Dee arrived
exactly on time and sat with her colleague. She took his hand in
hers and squeezed it gently. She hadn’t seen him since he had been
back to Newcastle after the shooting.

“
Are you OK,
Pete?” she asked, genuine concern in her voice.

“
No, Dee, I’m
not. Not really. It’ll take a while yet. But I want to keep busy.”
Dee nodded in understanding. She had been obliged to rest up for
almost two months after being shot twice in quick succession last
year, and it nearly drove her insane. She rubbed both of her old
bullet wounds unconsciously as they always ached more in cold, damp
weather.

“
It is the
beautiful Miss Conrad!” Franco enthused as he lifted her right hand
to kiss it. “I live in the hope that someday you will return my
affection and return to Sicily with me as my wife.”

Dee smiled as
she replied.

“
Firstly,
it’s Mrs Hammond now.” Dee displayed her ring finger, and Franco
looked crestfallen. “Second, Mrs Bagio might have something to say
about that, and, thirdly, you don’t come from Sicily, Frankie, you
were born in Chislehurst.” Her suitor replied in a whisper,
dropping all pretence of an Italian accent.

“
Congratulations, Mrs Hammond, but please keep your voice
down. The tourists lap this stuff up.”

***

In the hour
that they spent together, Pete explained all that he had been able
find out about Gillian Davis’ childhood. He produced an article
from the Financial Times that explained the generous nature of Ms
Davis’ sell off of Celebrato, and handed the press cutting and the
file to Dee.

“
Simon has
done a lot of the work, and I’ve added the insights I gained in
Hampshire. If you turn to the back page you’ll see something
interesting.” Pete waited for Dee to turn the pages.

There, in the
back of the manila folder, was a Google map showing the exact
location of Denton Miles III’s estate near Lynchburg, Virginia. It
was accompanied by a satellite version of the same plan, and a
photograph of the plantation house which occupied the
site.

“
Sooner or
later she’ll end up there, you know, Pete.”

“
Maybe sooner
than you think.” Pete pulled a post-it note from his wallet. “As of
yesterday Gillian Davis has a search and arrest warrant out on her,
issued under orders from MI5. According to your friend in MI5, they
believe that she has fled the country. Oddly enough, they believe
she flew out of Newcastle.” Pete’s Geordie accent suddenly seemed
more pronounced.

“
I’m flying
to the US with Katie tomorrow. If Ms Davis shows up in Virginia,
I’ll make sure I’m there. I’ll have to clear it with Tom Vastrick,
but I don’t foresee any problem with me spending a few days
tracking down an assassin with a price on her head.” Dee’s focus
altered and she stared into the distance, way beyond the dark wet
pavements of Piccadilly. Geordie tried to regain her attention and
succeeded in a dramatic fashion.

“
Before you
think about bringing her in, you might want to look at page
eleven.”

Dee turned to
page eleven, where she saw a full colour headshot of a handsome
American man with salt and pepper hair and George Clooney style
weathered face. She looked down at the notation that identified him
as Denton Miles III and gasped when she read the short bio Simon
had prepared.

“
I don’t
believe it!” she blurted, finishing the sentence with a string of
unladylike expletives.

Chapter
4
6

Director of
Operations Office, MI5, London, Thursday 7pm.

Maureen
Lassiter wanted to go home. She was tired and emotionally drained
and she was needy. She knew that Barry would be at her apartment
and she needed some desperate, physical activity to take her mind
off things. Barry wasn’t the best lover in the world but she didn’t
have to encourage him to handle her roughly. As she got older her
passions grew stronger and all embracing lovemaking made the years
slip away. In the midst of her passion she felt like a girl
again.

Her mobile
phone rang with a tone that sounded like an old fashioned bell
telephone ringing in the distance.

The news
wasn’t good. The two clowns in Cuba had managed to lose Gillian
Davis and now they were relying on their back up plan; wait for her
to return to the hotel and snatch her. They actually seemed
confident that this was still overwhelmingly likely, and had gone
as far as hiring an outside team for the snatch. Maureen wasn’t so
confident. Thom Passarel and Jared Stevens had been the victims of
cutbacks. They were now only part time and they received little or
no training. They were well out of touch.

Maureen
listened to their timetable for the plane taking off from Cuba with
Davis on board and the estimated landing time at Brize Norton
Airfield, then she said her goodbyes and hung up.

Before placing
her mobile in her bag she dialled her own phone. It was an odd
feeling. She hadn’t rung that number in the ten years she had been
living there. What would be the point? Normally there would be
no-one there. Maybe in the future when she and Barry were
together...

“
Maureen?”
Barry sounded impatient and tetchy. Her message was not going to
improve his temperament.

“
Barry, I
think she’s gone. The part timers are convinced she has no idea
they are watching her, but my guess is that she spotted them a mile
off and they won’t be seeing her again.”

Barry swore
loudly, frustration and anger getting the better of him.

“
OK. She’s
travelling on her own passport so put her name on the Terror Watch
List at every airport which takes direct flights from Cuba, and
there aren’t that many. Concentrate on the short haul flights, like
Panama. She will arouse suspicion if she travels long haul without
her luggage.” He paused. “With any luck we’ll get her overnight.
Anyway, you may as well come home, I need you here.”

Maureen
Lassiter closed down her work station and set off for home. She
decided that she would allow Barry to work out his frustrations on
her if he wanted, as long as his pent up aggression had a carnal
outlet.

Chapter
4
7

Green Earth
Fashions, Church Place, London, Thursday 9pm

It was dark
and cold outside by the time Dee and Katie exited Green Earth by
the side door. The alleyway into which they alighted was narrow and
poorly lit, but a warm and comfortable car was waiting for them
just a few yards away.

Dee stepped
out first and kept Katie behind her whilst she scanned the
alleyway. There were no hysterical fans around. It was too wet and
too cold. No-one was visible in the line of sight that Dee had
established between the exit and the car.

She was just
about to usher Katie into the alley when she noticed the barest
wisp of water vapour dissipating into the darkness. She breathed
out herself and noticed that her warm expelled breath formed a
noticeable cloud. Someone was hiding and trying to conceal their
exhalations. Dee turned and whispered to Katie, asking her to go
back inside until Dee came back to collect her. Katie looked down
the alley but saw nothing amiss, and a puzzled frown formed on her
face. Nonetheless, she trusted Dee’s instincts and did as she was
asked.

***

Dee had
wrapped up tight and warm. She was wearing a heavy coat and scarf
over her jeans and polo neck sweater. She unbuttoned the coat and
removed the scarf from her neck, keeping her leather gloves on. If
there was an attacker in the alley she needed the freedom to move
easily and use her martial art skills. Additionally she had no
intention of giving any assailant the chance to throttle her with
her own scarf.

She walked
casually down the alley towards the recessed doorway where she had
noticed the wisp of vapour and then, as a diversion, she called out
to no-one.

“
Katie, tuck
in behind me. You never know what might happen.”

She had barely
finished the sentence when a figure leapt out in front of her. She
could see it was a man, and he was holding something at chest level
with both hands. Whatever it was it looked dangerous, and it was
aimed at Dee’s head.

“
Bitch!” the
man shouted. “I’ll make you pay!” His angry voice was distorted
beyond recognition.

Dee marvelled
at the fact that almost all amateur assailants felt an urge to
issue a warning before acting, whereas if they acted and yelled at
the same time the victim would be caught unawares. Dee sensed, as
much as saw, something coming towards her face and swivelled to
avoid it, whilst launching a kick at the assailant’s outstretched
hands. A stream of cold liquid splashed onto her coat which
absorbed the most of the noxious liquid, but a little sprayed over
her ear. The smell of the liquid hit her senses and she was
outraged. The strong chlorine smell told her that someone had been
trying to blind her by squirting bleach into her eyes.

At the same
instant she recognised the odour, her foot connected with her
assailant’s weapon and his wrists. He grunted as the force from
Dee’s kick cracked his left wrist and dislocated his outspread left
thumb. Then he screamed.

***

The scream
wasn’t that of a man who had sustained minor injuries to his hands.
He screamed as if he was dying. Dee flung off her bleach covered
coat and wiped her stinging ear.

“
Son of a
bitch!” she muttered. “This is undiluted bleach.” In a second she
had both feet planted on the pavement and was ready to beat her
opponent into the ground. Her training had kicked in instinctively,
and she had adopted a closed, long and high stance. In other words,
she was presenting a closed or limited view of her body. Her feet
were wide apart with her weight resting equally on each foot, and,
she was standing tall, ready to deflect any incoming blows or to
launch an attack.

The man
stumbled towards her, his arms crossed over his face, still
screaming.

“
I’m
blinded!” he cried as he moved ever closer. Dee felt she had no
alternative. It could be a bluff, and in any event he had started
the fracas. She threw out a series of combination punches to his
unprotected midriff and chest, hearing a satisfying gasp as his
lungs deflated. She finished with a hard kick to the groin which
would have flattened her attacker’s testicles or sent them up as
far as his throat.

***

The assailant
lay on the ground, crying and sobbing that he was blind, by the
time Katie came out into the alley with the security guards. Dee
knelt beside the injured man with her scarf ready to act as
temporary restraints.

“
Bobby,” she
called, referring to one of the security men by name. “I need a
torch and some bottles of water as soon as you can.”