Avenger (14 page)

Elena was not really surprised when she arrived at the Dolce & Gabbana stand in Bergdorf Goodman and was presented with a beautiful, black, fitted designer trouser suit and a crisp white shirt to try on.

Nothing was surprising any more. She was moving in a fog of exhaustion and anxiety. The friendly assistant told Elena that she knew she was in a hurry and ushered her towards the changing room. Elena forced a wan smile in return.

'I'll look after that sports bag if you like,' the assistant said as she went through the white louvred door.

It took a lot for Elena to say, 'No, it's all right, I'll keep it with me.' It was easier now just to do as she was instructed, or ordered, but she guessed that Black Star would not want the bag out of her sight for even a moment. Knowing that he was probably watching her even now, she accepted that he was the one who mattered most.

The assistant simply smiled tactfully and moved away. In the
privacy of the changing cubicle, Elena slumped for a moment, leaning her aching
head against the cool of the mirror, and allowed her eyes to shut. But only
for a moment or two. There was a job to be done. Slipping into an outfit worth
more than all the clothes she had ever bought for herself was strange for
Elena, but no stranger than everything else that was happening.

Danny walked past the Dolce & Gabbana stand and continued on past small concessions with Italian-sounding names he had only vaguely heard of. He was sticking carefully to SOPs: always have a reason for whatever you do. He was ready with a story about looking for a birthday present for his girlfriend if anyone asked.

He had followed Elena into the beautiful art deco store, every fibre concentrating on staying third party aware. He knew that he might not be the only person watching Elena. Even though Deveraux had poured scorn on the idea that the man he had seen earlier was Black Star, Danny thought differently. He was looking out for him again, convinced that he would see him, and ready to prove Deveraux wrong.

If he did spot the man again, Danny had a further idea. He figured the best way of keeping tabs on Elena would be to follow the follower. That way, he would be in control of the surveillance. And while he was at it, he planned to snatch a photograph of his suspect with the camera on his mobile phone.

But first the man had to turn up. And so far, he hadn't.

Inside Dolce & Gabbana Elena emerged from the changing cubicle. The sales assistant was good at her job, ignoring the vacant look on her client's face.

'Oh, it looks as though it was made for you. Beautiful. And the knee-length jacket suits you perfectly.'

It did look good, but Elena had taken no more than a glance at herself in the mirror in the changing room.

She had the weirdest feeling of being somewhere else, as though she was watching the scene play out on a screen far away. She watched this other Elena standing perfectly still as the sales assistant asked her to hold open the jacket while she made a few checks. 'Maybe just half an inch shorter in the legs and a tiny bit off the waist. You're so slim.'

Elena forced her mind back to the present. 'I've lost weight lately.'

'Well, don't you go losing any more; you're just perfect as you are. The jacket is generously cut; it's meant to look like that. If you'll just slip back into your own clothes, we'll make the adjustments and have everything round to your hotel by early this afternoon. You'll look
wonderful.
Is it for a special event?'

Elena nodded. 'Yes.'

She went back into the changing cubicle and was stepping into her jeans when the BlackBerry gave its now familiar beep.

OK, Cola, time 2 move again. U need 2 go 2 another
drugstore. Ready 4 instructions????

Elena started. So Black Star had to be here, in the store somewhere.
Even here, he was watching her. As she emerged from the cubicle, she looked
around, but there was no one she recognized.

A few minutes later Danny watched her head towards the store's exit. There had been no sign of the mystery man so he had no alternative but to follow Elena.

Outside, she hailed a cab. Danny shouted down the next cab he saw, got in and ordered the driver to 'Follow that cab!'

'Which one, buddy?' said the driver, turning back to look at him. 'Or you just making like you're in a movie?'

Danny stared out through the windscreen. There were three yellow cabs up ahead of them on the street. Danny pointed at the one he thought Elena was in. 'That one!'

The driver shrugged, shoved the vehicle into gear and pulled away from the kerbside.

Danny had been unlucky. Only a few seconds later Herman Ramirez walked out of the store with his cell phone to his ear.

Fran and Mick's scanners had locked on to the signal coming from the television set in Elena's hotel room. The task now was to find where it was being beamed to.

It couldn't be far, within a block or so at the most. They had to discover where the beamed signal was strongest.

They walked away from the hotel in separate directions, both apparently listening to music on an iPod. In fact they were listening to a congressman from Texas as he attempted to explain the intricacies of a proposed budget deficit. It was all waffle to them both, but all that mattered was keeping his boring voice droning on in their earpieces.

They were walking the footprints of the signal. When it grew weaker, they would turn round, search for the place where it picked up, then walk in another direction until the signal became weaker again.

Gradually they were reducing the search area and getting closer to their target. Closing in on Black Star.

The congressman was booming in their earpieces as they met each other. They were on the ground floor of a multi-storey car park. And whenever they walked away from the car park, the signal became weaker. This was it; he had to be here.

They moved into the ground floor of the concrete structure and, one after another, using the cover of parked vehicles, they checked weapons – the HK Plls that Marcie Deveraux had brought into the country in the diplomatic bag.

The Pll was rarely used; it was a strange, futuristic-looking weapon, which was made in two parts and was battery operated. The chunky five-round barrel unit slotted into the pistol grip section, where the batteries were located.

All five chambers were visible at the front of the barrel unit, but until the moment of firing, each chamber remained tightly sealed. This was because the weapon was designed to be used underwater, where it had an effective range of ten to fifteen metres. It had been invented primarily for use by divers taking out other divers.

Electricity continues to work underwater, and the pistol used an electric current to fire the bullets from the barrels in the same way as a detonator is used to kick off explosives.

The barrel held not only the five rounds but also the charge that fired the round. This was released when the trigger was pulled, sending it to small connectors at the back of the barrel. The electric current detonated the explosive charge behind the round and it was fired. The round itself was dart-shaped, to glide through the water more efficiently.

Out of the water, the P11's range increased to thirty metres, more than enough for Fran and Mick's requirements. And the bonus was that the Pll was virtually silent and the 7.62×36-calibre rounds would have a devastating effect on the target.

Slowly and cautiously they began checking vehicles. They were fortunate: it was mid morning by now and the car park was virtually full, so there was little traffic moving about. Or people.

They were looking for a vehicle that was big enough to conceal someone watching and listening in on Elena's room.

The ground level was clear and so was the first. But on the second floor, as they worked their way along the rows of vehicles, Fran stopped suddenly and drew Mick's attention to a blue van parked thirty metres ahead of them.

Gradually they edged closer, each pulling on two pairs of surgical rubber gloves. They had bought the cheap gloves, which split very easily, from a 'dollar store'. The double layer would ensure that no prints were accidentally left on a vehicle.

Their eyes searched for the tell-tale signs that someone might be hiding inside the vehicle: condensation on the windows at the front, slight movement of the vehicle as someone shifted inside. There was nothing, but they both knew that it didn't mean the van was unoccupied.

As they moved closer and were able to see into the front, they spotted that it was blocked off from the rear of the van; someone could easily be concealed in there.

They reached the vehicle and eased their way along the bodywork to the rear doors. Mick pressed one ear up against the closest door while Fran stood on stag, watching for anyone approaching.

Mick could hear nothing, but he still wasn't sure.

And then the sound of men's laughter startled them both. They moved away just as the doors to the stairwell were flung back and two construction workers, still wearing their yellow hard hats, came bursting through.

The joke must have been good because they kept laughing all the way to the van. One of the workers had keys in his hands. He opened the driver's door and climbed in, and as Fran and Mick moved on to the next level, they heard the van's engine start up and the vehicle pull away.

'Thought we had him there,' said Mick as they climbed the stairs.

'We'll get him soon,' said Fran.

But they found nothing until they reached the top floor. And then, stepping into the open, they spotted something that was surely what they were looking for.

Parked in one corner was a large Winnebago with two small satellite dishes on the roof. One of these was pointing directly towards the hotel and the other was aimed in the opposite direction. All the curtains at the Winnebago's windows were drawn, even the ones dividing the driver's seat from the rear of the vehicle.

Fran and Mick inched closer to the vehicle until, weapons up, they reached the side door. They stopped and listened. There was no sound. Nothing. After a couple of minutes Fran reached into her jacket, took out a Leatherman and pulled the knife from its sheath.

Mick, still with his weapon up, was covering Fran as she gently worked the blade into the gap between the door and the bodywork. Within seconds she had forced the lock.

She flung back the door and stood aside as Mick burst into the wagon and went right. Fran was immediately behind him. She went left and they stood their ground inside the wagon, weapons up, ready to drop anything that moved.

But there was no one inside the vehicle. Instead, Fran and Mick immediately saw a suitcase-sized machine on the Winnebago's dining table. Two sets of wires came from the back and went out through the roof to the two satellite dishes.

'The bastard's using a rebroadcaster,' said Fran as she pulled
her mobile phone from her pocket.

From his study in The Hamptons, Pointer watched as Fran punched in Deveraux's number. Hidden in the Winnebago was another tiny camera. It had been fitted by Herman Ramirez for just such an eventuality.

Pointer watched Mick inspect the rebroadcaster and then begin to check out the Winnebago's cupboards and drawers. The bomb master frowned as he pondered exactly who the two uninvited visitors were. He knew they would find nothing in the vehicle that would help them.

But who were they? Police? FBI? CIA? Did they know about Elena? The pistols they held looked highly unusual. And how had they found the vehicle?

He allowed himself a slight smile. It didn't matter now. None
of it mattered. He had always known this would happen eventually. Some form
of law enforcement agency was closing in on him. So what? Tonight was the
night he had waited so long for. This would be the last one, the one that
really mattered. By the time they found him it would be too late. His beloved
son would be finally, and spectacularly, avenged.

Marcie Deveraux and Fergus Watts were treating each other with what might best be termed as 'professional respect'.

Fergus had decided during the flight in the Tornado that he would say nothing to Deveraux about the fit-up at Heathrow. For one, it had been a job well done, and Fergus had a grudging respect for that. For two, he didn't want to antagonize Deveraux any further and possibly alert her to his own plans. And for three, Fergus just wanted to get on with the job in hand.

So he made no mention of Deveraux's killing of Joey Omolodon, but simply reiterated Dr Jacobson's concerns about Elena's mental state. When they discussed the letter Elena had left for her father, he didn't refer to the fact that Joey would never read that letter. It was almost as if he were still around, but missing.

Deveraux was more than a little relieved: they didn't have time for recriminations. In return, she brought Fergus fully up to speed on developments since their arrival in New York. She even spoke of Fran and Mick's role in the hunt for Black Star just as if Fergus had known about their involvement all along.

Fergus nodded but made no comment. Without spelling it out, Deveraux had revealed to him who was on hand to carry out the actual killing of Black Star. And Fergus didn't need telling that they were also around for when Deveraux decided that he, Danny and Elena were no longer needed.

They were both being polite and professional as the limousine arrived back in the city and headed towards the Four Seasons.

And then Deveraux's Xda rang.

'Yes, Fran?'

'We've found a vehicle. There's a rebroadcaster. The signal's being encrypted and sent out by microwave.'

Deveraux sighed with irritation and considered for a moment. 'I suppose we shouldn't be surprised – he was never going to make it easy for us.'

It was a blow, but as Deveraux had said, not completely unexpected. It meant that the signal was being received in the Winnebago and then sent on to another receiver. Black Star might be at that location, but it was equally possible that the signal was going on to another rebroadcaster. And then another. And another. For all they knew, Black Star could be way up north, in Canada.

The rebroadcaster boosted the strength of the encoded signal, and this could be sent onwards over long distances. The only thing in the hunters' favour was that the microwave operated within a narrow band and the dish had to point in the direction in which the signal was being sent.

Deveraux knew that. 'You'd better start playing dot-to-dot.'

'Yeah,' answered Fran, 'I thought you'd say that. Could be a long job.'

'Give me the details of the wagon and we'll check it out. We're closing in on the bastard.'

Deveraux noted down the details as Fran gave them to her and then ended the call. She quickly relayed the facts to Fergus.

'Doesn't make me feel a whole lot better about Elena's safety,' he said. 'Where is she now?'

'She's shopping.'

'And what's she buying?'

'Black Star's got her running all over the city. Danny's doing his best to keep track of her, but he's on his own while Fran and Mick chase Black Star, so—'

Deveraux's Xda rang again. It was Danny.

'Yes, Danny?' She put the Xda on speaker mode.

'I've lost her. I followed her in a cab to another drugstore. She was buying aspirins, candles . . . other stuff. It's definitely mix thirty-nine. But then she took the subway, and by the time I'd got a ticket she was gone. There was no way I could stay with her.'

Deveraux took the news well; she hadn't expected Danny to be able to stay with Elena indefinitely. 'At least we know what she's doing. Go back to your hotel and leave a marker and a message for Elena. Tell her we need any information she can give us through the DLB.'

'But I don't want to just sit around waiting,' said Danny urgently. 'There must be something else I can do.'

'Yes, there is, Danny,' said Deveraux curtly. 'You can follow orders. Now get back to the hotel and wait.'

Fergus butted in. 'Danny?'

'You're here!'

'Of course I'm here,' said Fergus, glancing towards Deveraux. 'Look, don't worry, we'll get Elena through this.'

Deveraux cut the call; there wasn't time for family reunions.

'I need to be at the Pennsylvania with Danny,' said Fergus. 'If Elena starts mixing when she gets back, it means the attack is on today. I have to be at the hotel.'

'And what can you do there?'

Fergus had no intention of telling Deveraux about the powder sitting in his dip bag. 'If you and your team get to Black Star while Elena's mixing, I can get her out of there and make the mix safe.'

Deveraux knew that Fergus was right. It was the best use of his skills; it was what he was here for. But for now she wanted Fergus where she could see him. They were nowhere near to catching Black Star yet, and for the moment, even with the concern about Elena's state of mind, while they had her under surveillance she was safe enough. If they tried to get close enough to talk to her, they risked blowing the whole operation.

'No,' she said without looking at Fergus. 'You stay with me until I say otherwise.'

Fergus sat back and said nothing. He had read Deveraux's sit reps: he knew exactly what she wanted for himself and Danny and Elena, once Black Star was dead. But he didn't know what Dudley's response had been to Deveraux's recommendation, although he could make an educated guess: 'Recommendation for elimination approved.'

He almost smiled at the irony of it all: while Black Star lived, so did they.