Counterpoint (47 page)

She spoke in a quiet, confident voice
that instantly put him at ease.

“Hi! I really need your help,” she said
it as though only he could achieve the miracle she was about to ask
for. “It is vital I speak with Mr Kay in person the matter, it is
most urgent, can you contact him for me?”

The guard knew he would have to refuse,
and refer her to a receptionist; he could not leave his post. Carla
changed her smile to an expression of pleading before he could
reply. She knew what he was about to say and how to manipulate the
poor man. The refusal froze in his brain as he switched from
negative thought into positive action. Grabbing her by the arm, he
escorted her to the nearest receptionist, placed her at the head of
the queue and commanded the startled woman to phone Comrade Kay
immediately, the matter was of the utmost importance. The guard
turned to face the Carla, winked cheekily and strode back to his
post.

The receptionist had not heard of
Comrade Kay and presumed he was a distinguished visitor. She
scanned her phone list and rang his number. Directing Carla to a
phone behind her, the woman transferred the call. Carla calmly said
her piece, and tensed for the response. “Farr sent me! Meet me in
the lobby, now!”

There was a shocked pause, then he said
in a sharp questioning voice “who are you?” Carla just replaced the
phone and walked to a vantage point in a clear part of the
lobby.

A minute later Kay rushed into the
lobby towards the receptionist who put Carla through. Carla
intercepted him. “Comrade Kay! Thanks for coming.”

He looked at her in surprise and
demanded to know who she was. “I cannot talk here,” she whispered
conspiratorially “it's about the exchange,” she mouthed knowingly.
“Just come with me, now! You don't need to bring the envelope.”

Aghast, he watched her walk slowly away
to the entrance. He needed to check with his superiors first, but
she was not waiting. She must be from Farr or else how would she
know about the exchange and the envelope. He decided to follow, she
was only a slip of a girl, no threat to him and the envelope was
safe anyway, so he could see no appreciable risk.

He caught up and when clear of the
other people in the street demanded to know what was happening.
“Paul Farr sent me, he said he was being pursued, and security had
been compromised. Paul is in hiding nearby, he trusts no one,
except me. I must take you to a safe place, there he will contact
you, himself, when I have gone, and the area is secured. Don't ask
me anything else, I can say nothing more.”

He persisted with questions, but to his
frustration, she ignored him.

Carla took Kay to a small cafe and sat
him down by the window. Stay here she said, looking around
furtively. I must go outside, or Paul won’t come. Awkwardly, she
paced up and down three times, looked in at Kay, mouthed, “he's
coming,” and walked slowly away back the way she had come.

Kay waited patiently for five minutes,
lost his temper and stormed out of the cafe. He had not brought his
mobile phone with him in a rush, so it took several more minutes to
find a phone box and call the embassy. He told one of the staff to
check the safe for a specific envelope and got them to describe it
back to him. Satisfied it was still there he walked briskly back to
his office.

When Carla and Kay had gone past the
side road where Max waited in disguise, he retraced the route back
to the embassy and waited inside until 4pm, then came out fiddling
with a document in his inside jacket pocket.

Barclay had taken a convoluted route
and parked near the embassy, so he could watch the comings and
goings at the embassy entrance. He spotted Kay immediately as he
chased after Carla and grew suspicious. When he saw Kay return on
his own and go back in, he decided to carry on with the exchange,
but be extra cautious.

At 4pm, he saw Kay come out and turn
left up the street as instructed, so he followed on the far side of
the road, watching for anyone following Kay or him.

Max's insides churned over as he walked
away from the embassy, he was not the right person for this job,
his brain was not wired to think on his feet like a con man, but
screwing up was not an option. He pulled himself together and
focused on the character he was about to play.

Once Max was clear of people, Barclay
caught up with him.

Max said, “take me to your car now, we
must make the exchange at once, or we will be caught.” My car is
over there said Barclay, the silver Mercedes.

Max strode briskly ahead as Barclay
checked around for a trap. In spite of the rushed meeting, Barclay
had planned a number of escape routes, at the moment, the traffic
was flowing freely, and the crowd cover was good. If he could use
the car, he could zip through the traffic, if that was not possible
he could lose himself in the crowd.

The two men got into the car, but
Barclay looked searchingly at Max's face. It was like the face in
the photo he had seen. If the man was a double, he was damned good.
His searching eyes checked for make-up, false or dyed hair. The
hair follicles tended to hold dye for several days, even if the
scalp is well washed, after treatment. Rupert had allowed for this
in his hair dye preparation. Barclay reached for his mobile phone,
opened it and started to dial. Without consciously thinking, Max
grabbed the phone and ripped the flip cover off to disable it. In
an instant, like a magician, Barclay reached down between his seat
and the door with his left hand and produced a small menacing
automatic. It was pointing at Max’s heart. Barclay's eyes had not
moved from Max’s face during the manoeuvre, the gun fitting neatly
in the man's fist and firmly across his belly.

Max slowly lowered his eyes and studied
the instrument of death. The small black metal object was both
menacing and beautiful. The firmness of Barclays' grip on it made
the normal pink skin of his hand whiten. Max could see the trigger
finger drawing tighter and whiter. “Sorry about the phone Max heard
himself say, you are not taking your security seriously.” “I
thought you were from the Ukraine,” said Barclay, his eyes boring
into Max looking for the slightest hint of body-language indicating
a lie. I was born there, but moved to England soon after, never
seriously used any other language than English. Probably the reason
why I have been used on this job. Barclay said something to Max in
Russian. Max hadn't the faintest idea what it meant. What could he
say in response? Barclay was obviously testing him, so it was
probably a question.

Put your gun away, there is a man
approaching said Max focusing his eyes on a passer-by behind
Barclay. Barclay was sure Max was unarmed because of the metal
detectors at the embassy entrance, but even so, he could attempt to
jump him. Without taking his eyes off Max or moving the aim of his
gun, Barclay moved his rear view mirror to show a man approaching
the door of his car. In an instant, Barclay started the car, first
gear was already selected, and he steered the revving car into the
traffic all with his free right hand. The aimed gun hardly wavered
from Max's heart.

“Are you going to do business or not,”
demanded Max as though the gun threat was normal behaviour? Max
then reached into the manila envelope to pull out the valuable
contents. Barclay glanced down, pulled over and examined the
stamped envelope closely. It was the genuine article. Barclay put
his gun away and said I will get the papers now, and we can get
this over with.

Max held open the empty manila envelope
and let Barclay drop his stamped envelope in. Barclay watched as
Max sealed the flap. 10 minutes later after checking carefully for
anyone following Barclay pulled into an abandoned warehouse.

Gal's team were not quite in place when
the silver Mercedes shot out from the parking space into the
fast-flowing traffic. It was all so quick, they could not catch up.
Max was now on his own.

“I'll just go and get the papers,” said
Barclay “they are hidden in the warehouse.” He then grabbed the
sealed manila envelope. Max snatched it back.

“Yes, you do that,” he said, “and in
the meantime, I will hang on to this, it's worth more to me than
this Mercedes.” Max smiled defiantly as Barclay glowered back.

Three minutes later, Barclay returned
with a large crumpled white envelope. Max took out the papers
inside and looked through them. Satisfied they were OK, he handed
Barclay the manila envelope. He looked at it carefully paused and
then looked menacingly at Max. To Max's horror he slowly ripped the
sealed end open. It would be just seconds now before the switch
would be discovered. Barclay peered in and pulled out the document.
Max lashed out at the killer with a potentially stunning blow to
Barclays chin and clutching his own papers leapt out of the car.
Because of the confines of the car, Max's punch only slightly
stunned Barclay. Running towards the gloomy interior of the
warehouse and keeping the massive support columns between himself
and Barclay it was several seconds before four shots rang out.
Stopping and looking back, Max saw Barclay reached into the car,
take out the contents of the manila envelope again and examine
them. Several seconds later, Barclay became wildly animated. He
slammed the car door shut so hard to car rocked then he tore off
through the warehouse after Max. No doubt about it, Barclay spotted
the fake and was after him with revenge in mind.

Barclay knew the building, Max didn't
and was cornered. There was a staircase ahead, so he ran for it and
climbed two steps at the time. Several shots splintered wood either
side of Max and one hit the heel of his shoe knocking him off
balance. He fell up the flight on all fours and scrabbled up out of
sight. There was no cover apart from the thick columns, or place to
hide on this floor, so up he went again. The top-floor was the same
as all the others, apart from leaping to his death from a window;
the roof was the only other possibility.

Barclay knew Max was trapped and
proceeded with caution, checking he wasn't behind the columns as he
went up each floor. The horizontal members of the steel roof
trusses were about 2.4m from the floor, too high up to grasp. Max
ran at the wall and up it is grasping the thin, rusty horizontal
metal, hauled himself up, under the corrugated iron roof covering.
It would be only seconds before Barclay reached this floor and see
him in the open framework of the roof. Pushing up hard he dislodged
part of a badly rusted through metal sheet and crawled through onto
the surface of the roof. Several more shots rang out around him
firing blind near the hole, Barclay hoped to get lucky and wing or
kill Max, but fortunately, he missed. Max looked around. On this
side was a sheer drop to the yard below, so he scrambled up the
slope to see what was on the other side. More shots, one clipped
the inside of his thigh. “Christ, he nearly shot my bollocks off,”
hissed Max in pain. Over the apex he went, and slid down the other
side to the next roof of the adjacent building. Barclay had some
difficulty getting up on the roof with his gun in his hand, but
resumed the chase, confident he would soon catch up. The metal roof
sheets were treacherous, paper-thin in most places, often just
holes where they were rusted through. Max carefully picked his way
until he reached the last slope. Cornered again! There was a sheer
drop this time.

Max went back over the apex and pulled
up at the edges of a sheet until loose all around. He waited,
keeping low, and when he saw Barclay, noisily, but quickly, Max
slid over the apex again, confident Barclay would follow. And he
did. At the last moment Max stood up in full view startling Barclay
and ducked back down before he fired, Barclay rushed forward up the
slope. Halfway up the loosened sheet, it gave way and Barclay fell
through and hit a rotten area of the floor below. His weight caused
it to give way and he continued down another two floors before
impaling himself on scrap metal. Max peered down and watched
Barclay slowly die.

Max carefully made his way back to the
car and drove back to the embassy. Carla was pacing up and down
anxiously outside. Tears of joy welled up in her blue eyes when she
saw the shabby, blood stained figure approaching, she ran to him.
Later, Max explained to Tony Gal, what had happened and handed The
Organisations papers to him.

Gal took the papers from Max and asked
for the stamped envelope. Max reached into his pocket for it and
discovered it was no longer there. Furiously he searched himself
and then red-faced be admitted that he must have lost it when
scrabbling over the roof. Gal shrugged, “well, it was not ours to
keep so thank you everyone for all your help, let’s go home.”

Gal phoned the embassy agent to warn
him of the missing original. The Agent said “I think I can avoid
any internal inquiry, but I doubt Kay will be so lucky. Seems he
went off with some girl without authorisation and then suspiciously
got one of the staff to check on the document. When it turns out to
be fake, the question will be, did the member of staff take the
original or more likely did Kay take it. The member of staff will
probably confirm it was the fake when he looked so Kay will take
the fall because he was the only person to leave the embassy. When
it gets out to the Russian Mafia that Barclay was found dead with a
fake and no papers either, Kay will be dead within hours.”

Carla seemed to be the only one fully
satisfied with the outcome. On the way back to their room, Max
gently caressed her bottom. Through the thick material of her short
skirt, her bottom felt less soft and yielding than usual. Smiling
to himself, he said, “You have the cutest and most expensive little
ass in the whole world. I bet it even has a stamp of approval on it
somewhere.” She gave her cheekiest grin, skipped away a few paces
like an excited little girl and said, “Well, I know how much you
like to lick it, why not lick a few stamps as well.”