sThe Quiet Wart (5 page)

• The European Parliament: The body which houses the European Members of Parliament (MEPs).

• The European Commission: The administrators of the EU; essentially the European Civil Service.

• The European Council: The forum for the heads of state of the member countries.

• The Council of the European Union: A fluid group made up by the department ministers of the member states, who gather based on subject matter.

Sean woke with a start, as loud rapping on the door broke his deep sleep. ‘Who is it?' Liz called out, rubbing her eyes.

‘Liz, it's Clive. Let me in.'

‘It's only nine, Clive. We said ten. What do you want?' Sean said, glancing at the clock on the side table.

Pulling on a hotel robe, Liz made her way to the door.

‘Allsop's dead!' Clive said quickly, pushing through the door held open by Liz.

‘What?' Sean snapped out of his daze.

‘Apparently suicide: an overdose of painkillers.'

‘That's rubbish. He's not the type and when I left him he was positively jovial,' Sean said.

‘They're saying that he was a long-time drug user and was taking anti-depressants,' Clive countered.

‘Crap!'

‘I agree. He doesn't fit the profile of either a junkie or a suicide risk. My guess is that he was murdered, but the local police seem to have already concluded that it was suicide.'

‘Why would they do that?' Sean asked.

‘I don't know, but we'll see what the coroner has to say,' Clive added.

‘Could it be something to do with the information on the USB stick?' Liz suggested.

‘Maybe. He obviously thought there was something interesting on it,' Clive replied.

‘We need to find Anna Faustein. She was meant to come with us tonight. Maybe she knows what's going on,' Sean said.

‘She's staying at a place on Rue des Couples, the Cour du Corbeau, I think it's called,' Clive said. ‘But she'll have the media all over her, given her relationship with Allsop.'

‘Let's try anyway. If she knows that I met with Allsop last night and knows what he gave me, she might talk to us,' Sean said.

*

‘Could you put me through to Anna Faustein's room please?' Sean asked the hotel operator after looking up the phone number.

‘I'm sorry, sir. Frau Faustein checked out this morning,' she replied with a strong French accent.

‘She's gone. We should try the Parliament.' Sean turned to Liz and Clive, who were seated in the small hotel room.

*

It took ten minutes in a taxi heading north before the historic buildings of old Strasbourg were replaced by shimmering, state-of-the-art glass buildings of monumental proportions, lining the banks of a wide canal. The EU campus, in stark contrast to the busy downtown area, seemed to move at a leisurely pace, with wide grass verges and narrow rivers flowing through it. The Parliament building itself was a statement in modern architecture. Its colossal rounded exterior blended steel and glass seamlessly into its elegant structure, its huge circular tower seemingly unfinished. Sean remembered reading an architecture article that said it had been purposely left that way to symbolise the unfinished nature of the EU.

‘Well, at least I know how they spend all the bloody money,' Clive said, staring up at the impressive visitors' entrance to the Parliament building.

Without stopping to look, Sean raced into the lobby and quickly approached a woman standing behind a long marble reception counter. ‘I'd like to speak to Anna Faustein. How can I reach her?'

The receptionist spoke in clear English. ‘All of the members are in plenary at the moment. Do you have an appointment with Frau Faustein?'

‘No,' Sean said, ‘but it's important.'

‘Then you must call her office and make an appointment,' the receptionist replied.

‘Do you have a phone number?' Sean asked.

‘I'm sorry. I can't give you that information.'

‘Do you at least know whether she came in this morning?' Sean let his frustration show.

‘No, I don't have that information, sir,' the receptionist countered his angry disposition.

‘Damn!' Sean said as he walked back to Clive and Liz, who were admiring the enormous glass atrium. ‘No help. We can't get in to see her. I'll just have to wait to see if she comes out.'

‘We could take the tour? Then we could at least see if she was in the debating chamber,' Liz said, pointing to a sign announcing ‘
visitors tours'.

The early hour meant that they soon managed to get onto a tour. After clearing security, Sean immediately asked whether they could go into the viewing gallery for the plenary session, but was told that they would get there in about an hour. Agitated by the slow progress, they stayed at the back of the group of tourists, making no attempt to look interested, although it was hard not to be impressed by the internal architecture of the building, with its expansive central atrium, modern wood panelling and twisting metal staircases.
Whoever built this wasn't on a tight budget,
Sean thought.

‘We're here,' Liz said, as the sign for the plenary viewing gallery appeared and the guide told them to stay quiet.

‘Do we know who we're looking for?' Clive asked.

‘She should be in seat 262,' Liz said, looking at a large curved chart on the wall.

When they entered the plenary debating chamber, the contrast between the outside of the room and the inside couldn't be more emphatic. Gone was the warmth of the wood panelling, gone was the glass and the twisting metal and all that was left was a circular featureless room, with a dark blue carpet and white walls. Above it, the viewing gallery stretched all the way around and was filled with the same cold grey chairs as the chamber itself.
I wonder if this was purposely designed to be less elaborate than the rest of the building, because this is the area that is always seen on TV and they don't want to portray an extravagant image?
Sean considered.

Having been into the British Houses of Parliament a number of times to witness the proceedings, Sean had expected the same level of heated debate here. But there was no such debate, just the monotone voice of somebody reading from a script in German. Most of the members were wearing headphones, obviously listening to a translation. Then the speaking stopped and a few members seated near the front raised one hand with a thumbs-up. Soon a large electronic screen displayed the result of the vote.

‘Motion adoptée,'
the speaker in the centre of the bench at the front stated.

Almost immediately, the same monotone voice returned and before Sean could locate seat 262, the same process happened again.

‘Motion
adoptée
,' the speaker said again.

‘She's not here. Her seat's empty,' Clive whispered.

Sean instinctively stood to leave, but Clive pulled him back down. ‘You'll get arrested if you're caught wandering the corridors here. We'll have to stay with the tour.'

During their wait, another tour group entered the chamber. The collection of people took their seats quickly and began to observe the proceedings below, except for one man. He studied the members chart carefully before sitting down, slightly away from the others. He was dressed in a blue business suit, which made him stand out compared to the jeans and t-shirt-clad tourists in the rest of the group. Then, after quickly glancing around the chamber, he focussed his attention on Sean.

‘Did you see that?' Sean whispered to Clive.

‘Yes, I saw him when he came in; he's no tourist.'

‘I don't suppose we could take a sneaky photo?'

‘No chance,' Clive responded quickly.

After a few minutes, the odd-man-out stood quietly and moved a few seats closer to Sean. Then he repeated the move again and again, until he was only a few seats away.

It was another forty-five minutes before the tour guide indicated that they should leave. When the group stood to file back into the expansive lobby area, the suited man joined their group.

‘Stay behind him,' Clive whispered to Sean and Liz, as he stepped out in front of him.

When they made their way back through the twisting steel and glass, down to the ground floor, Clive stayed just in front of the suited man, while Liz and Sean stayed behind him. At one stage, when he reached into his pocket, Sean tensed ready to pounce on him, but it was just to get a handkerchief.

After they passed through the security barrier, Clive re-joined them, but not before he'd taken a picture of the suited man.

‘What now?' Sean asked.

‘Let's just head out to the taxi rank, and see if he follows us. He can't be armed or he wouldn't have got through the security checks,' Clive said.

The warm sunshine felt good on Sean's face when they walked out to the pavement, where a long line of taxis were waiting. Behind them, the suited man came through the door, seemingly not trying to hide the fact that he was following them. Then when they climbed in a cab, he took the one behind.

After searching a few screens on his iPhone, Sean hit the link to a number. ‘Ah hello, my name is Sean McManus, I'm a journalist from the UK and I was meant to have a meeting with Frau Faustein today, but she isn't in the Parliament, or at her hotel. Could you tell me where she is, please?' He heard some muffled speaking in the background.

‘I'm sorry, sir. I don't know where she is. Please leave a number and I'll pass on your message.' Sean quickly passed on his number and hung up.

‘Her constituency office doesn't know where she is either,' he said to Liz and Clive.

‘That doesn't sound good,' Liz replied.

‘We need to find her. We need to know what Allsop was onto that got him killed,' Sean said, after checking in the rear window and noting that they were still being followed by the same taxi.

‘And to warn her that she's in danger, if she doesn't already know,' Liz said.

‘Don't jump the gun. She could be the killer,' Clive added.

That hadn't crossed Sean's mind but, as usual, Clive was right. What if Anna Faustein had killed Allsop and gone on the run, maybe because she knew he'd passed the USB to him? If so, it wasn't her that was in danger, it was him, and by association, Liz and Clive. He looked back at the following car again quickly, now with more fear of its purpose. ‘He's still there,' he said.

‘I know. Just let him follow us; there's nothing we can do at the moment,' Clive said, calmly reassuring Sean.

‘I don't think we're just going to bump into her on the street. We should go back to London and try to make sense of everything. She could be anywhere,' Sean suggested.

‘Makes sense,' Clive replied.

‘Would your mum be okay to keep Praew for a few more days?' Sean asked Liz.

‘I think so. Why?'

‘Just a precaution, until we know what's going on.'

When they pulled up outside their small hotel, the following taxi stopped. Clive quickly sheltered Liz into the doorway and Sean followed behind. When he turned to close the door, the taxi behind sped away, with the passenger still in it.

‘We need to get out of here fast. Get your things and let's go to the airport,' Clive said.

It took Liz and Sean less than five minutes to grab everything they had and return to the lobby, where Clive was already waiting for them.

‘Terry's bringing the car around,' Clive said. ‘When I give you the nod, run and get straight into it.' Clive was scrutinizing the area opposite the hotel.

‘He's here. Go!' Clive instructed.

Sean stepped out of the door first and took Liz by the hand, sheltering her from the road. As they reached the bottom of the small flight of steps, an ear-shattering bang rang out in front of them. Instinctively, Sean pulled Liz to the ground and pushed her behind a parked car.

When he rolled to the side to see what had happened, he saw that an old jeep had rammed into the back of Terry's car and smoke was billowing from its grill. Just then a gunshot split the air and Sean heard it ricochet off the wall next to the door where Clive was crouching. When he looked back to the jeep, a man was leaning out of the window gripping a pistol, taking aim.

Clive rolled onto the ground and down the steps, to join Liz and Sean. ‘We need to go out the back way,' he said.

‘What about Terry?' Sean said.

‘He's got two men covering the position; they're closing in on the car now. He'll be okay, but all hell is about to break loose here, depending upon how many of them there are. When the shooting starts, you need to be ready to get back into the hotel.'

Both Sean and Liz nodded their agreement. Their lives had been saved by Clive in the past and their trust in him was unquestionable.

It was impossible for Sean to see what was happening, but as predicted, staccato gunfire soon started, emanating from the direction of the jeep.

‘Now!' Clive said.

Pulling Liz up and using his body to shelter her, Sean started to run. The door was only a few metres away, but the gunfire was becoming more intense. Resisting the urge to look around, he dashed straight for the door as two loud cracks came out, sending bullets in their direction. He was holding Liz so tightly that he almost carried her up the steps and into the lobby, before diving onto the tiled floor.

‘Are you okay?' he asked Liz.

‘Yes, but I'm scared.'

Just then, Clive came crashing into the lobby and dived onto the floor next to them. ‘Right, slide on your stomach to the back door. I'm just going to check what's going on here. I'll see you there in a few seconds.

Following Clive's instructions they held their bodies as close as they could to the cold tiles and shuffled across to the rear of the hotel. On the way, Sean glanced into the dining room where they'd eaten breakfast. Four of the hotel staff were huddled together in the corner, taking shelter.

In no time at all, Clive joined them by the rear door. ‘Terry's guys have dealt with them, but I'd guess back-up might be on the way and we need to get out of here before we have to explain all of this to the police.'

‘What about Terry?' Liz asked.

‘He looks fine; a few cuts from what I could see, but he's walking. He's a pro though and he'll already be heading out of France with his guys, so we need to get moving.'

Leaning out of the rear door, Clive scanned the area at the back of the hotel. ‘It looks clear. Let's go.' He stood and walked out of the door first, followed quickly by Liz, Sean still holding her hand as tightly as he could.

Once outside, they sprinted in the opposite direction from the hotel, as police sirens started to fill the air. Then at a main road, they slowed their pace and joined the throng of shoppers on the pavement. After walking about 200 metres along the busy street, Clive flagged a taxi.

‘Kehl, s'il vous plaît,'
Clive said.

Again Sean marvelled at the speed of Clive's thought process. Kehl was a German city just on the other side of the Rhine from Strasbourg. It would be way too soon for any cross-border police force cooperation.

The short journey over the border into Germany took just fifteen minutes before Clive told the taxi driver to stop. Once out of the car, they walked back in the direction they had driven, before Clive went into a car rental outlet. ‘I saw it when we passed earlier, but I didn't want the taxi driver to know where we were going,' he said.

It wasn't long before they were speeding away in the rented Volkswagen Golf. To Sean's surprise, Clive turned straight back into France, just north of Strasbourg and headed towards Metz. ‘Channel tunnel,' he said, seeing Sean's expression.

‘What about the car?' Liz said.

‘Least of my worries right now. I can always send somebody back with it.'

Six hours later, Clive pulled the rented car up outside Sean and Liz's Fulham flat. ‘I'll see you in the morning in my office. Get some sleep,' he said, before pulling away.

Once inside, Liz called her mother and asked if Praew could stay a few more days, then climbed into bed beside Sean. She sidled over to him and put her arms around his waist.

‘I love you,' she said, before falling asleep on his shoulder.