A Deadly Trade: A gripping espionage thriller. E. Seymour V.

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СКАЧАТЬ the game is played. The man who instigates mayhem is five times removed from the action. You don’t think your average suicide bomber meets the mullah who commissioned him, do you?’

      ‘Rich,’ she sneered, ‘me taking lectures from you.’

      ‘I’m just saying that …’

      ‘You don’t have a clue who you work for.’ She glared at me in disbelief.

      ‘I don’t. Not on this particular occasion.’ I’d cocked up.

      She gave me a long hard, venomous stare. When she spoke her voice scorched with contempt. ‘You might think you’re a somebody, but you have no idea what you’re involved in.’

      ‘I do.’ I didn’t. I was like a pilot making a crash landing. God knew where I’d fetch up.

      ‘No, you don’t,’ she repeated flatly.

      ‘Then enlighten me.’

      Her laugh was dry as tinder.

      ‘I’ll take that as proof I’m on the right track. Wilding was involved in something most sane people would prefer not to think about.’

      ‘It’s proof of nothing,’ she said, tight-lipped. I looked into her eyes. I thought I detected weakness. She looked torn between keeping her mouth shut and wanting to trade. Getting down to the nitty-gritty, the gathering of intelligence is all about give and take, and I was the best lead she’d had all day. I decided to try and tempt her.

      ‘I’m thinking Wilding would hardly store A-grade information in her home, but then it would depend on what it was and what she planned to do with it.’

      Two spots of colour flashed across her cheeks.

      ‘I accept I’m running ahead of the evidence,’ I riffed. ‘Must be virtually impossible to steal anything from Wilding’s place of work. The security arrangements would be strictly monitored, bombproof even. Then again, she didn’t need to steal anything. She already had it in her head. What should I call you, incidentally?’

      ‘Whatever you like, this isn’t a social engagement.’

      ‘We could help each other.’

      At this she laughed again. Low, from her belly, this time. It was a good laugh. ‘I don’t think so.’

      ‘Secrecy’s my middle name. Your superiors wouldn’t have to know.’

      She issued another cold, cynical look. ‘Unlike you, I have rules to obey.’

      ‘But surely they could be bent a little?’

      She smiled without warmth. ‘What are you trying to do, end my career? Sorry, I’m not open to corruption.’

      ‘Not even if it helps save the day?’ I let that sink in.

      She looked at me, sullen, eyes revealing nothing at all.

      ‘Toxins, nerve agents?’ I goaded, desperate to get a rise.

      Her full red lips pressed together. I noticed she wore brick-red lipstick, very Forties starlet. I continued to barrage her with questions. ‘Who would be in the market for it?’

      ‘You’ve been reading too much spy fiction,’ she glowered.

      ‘What about your friends at the Israeli Secret Service? Do they have an opinion?’

      Her face betrayed no emotion.

      ‘Funny, they showed quite an interest this morning.’

      She let out a surprised breath and her body tensed beneath me. I smiled. ‘Your sidekick has quite a crush on you, did you know? The other guys hanging around were regular police officers. Judging by their sour expressions, they don’t care for the security services pulling rank.’ As soon as the words exited my mouth, I realised I’d said too much. For reasons unknown I’d wanted to impress her, to let her see that I was worthy. Vanity, Reuben had often reminded me, was a capital offence. ‘How is the boy?’ I said, changing tack.

      She fixed me with hard eyes. ‘Safe from you.’

      In spite of every effort to curb a reaction, a pulse above my left eyelid quivered. Like a shark scenting blood in the water, she spotted my weakness.

      ‘Why didn’t you kill him?’

      I had no answer. If I wasn’t careful she would lead me to a place I’d no desire to visit. It was her turn to smile.

      ‘Your failure reveals worrying inconsistency. It’s as if you give a damn.’

      I swallowed hard. She wasn’t finished. ‘I wonder what the hell that’s all about,’ she said, her turn to goad. ‘Care to share?’ I did my best to retain a blank expression. Her lips curved into a superior smile. She was onto me. I stepped back. ‘You’re free to go,’ I said. She didn’t move an inch. I had the impression of her staring right into my soul. I wanted to break her hold on me. Her gaze dropped, eyes fixed on a point beyond my shoulder. I turned minutely. Next, her hand thudded into my chest and she was gone.

      I bent down to see if she’d taken the briefcase. It wasn’t there. She’d performed a classic disappearing trick. Like I said, she was smart.

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      Conscious she’d call for reinforcements, I took a fast, circuitous route. Whether she believed me or not was incidental. We both knew what we were dealing with. We both knew what we wanted. Whether or not she would play on my team, I’d no idea.

      A creature of shadows, I liked the dark: my milieu. But that night I wasn’t paying enough attention. The memory of the MI5 girl’s laugh, her penetrating stare, a blizzard of green, had sidetracked me. Quite suddenly, I found myself in a shabby lane, a cut-through between two rows of houses within spitting distance of Earls Court, reminding me of the many hutong you find in the Forbidden City in China – without the bikes and rickshaws. Lights from neighbouring streets cast a sickly glare through the gloom. I could hardly see but I could imagine the shattered walls that flanked the alley, the corrugated iron and outbuildings in varying states of disrepair. Weeds grew in knots between the cobbled stones beneath my feet. I didn’t hear another, no telltale breath, no loud footfall, but I recognised that I had company. Too late, I turned.

      The guy exploded into action, raining blows, several cracking my jaw and head. I darted, lunged, parried. Bone connected. Blood spattered. Mostly mine. My adversary was bigger than me in every respect, a wall of muscle, a human Pit Bull. Grabbing me by one ear, he yanked me close with one hand, by the throat with the other. He had a bad case of halitosis; his breath reeked of garlic and Guinness.

      ‘Where is it, you fucker?’

      ‘Where’s what?’

      ‘The fucking hard drive.’

      We were eyeball to eyeball. Blood streamed from my head. Shot through with pain, I wasn’t so far gone that I didn’t notice his strong СКАЧАТЬ