The Hit List (34 page)

eed?' Leon asked Andreas. reed.'

clarity's sake, Leon explained the plan in i. At seven o'clock, Leon told the dealer, he -- : - was going to ring Branca on her mobile. He t going to say that something of vital importance come up, that someone had just given him a which had to be passed on to her in person, at he had to see her within the hour. He was to no more than this, and he was not to take no answer.

: this?' asked Pasquale, pathetically grateful. 'This want from me? You don't want some shit? ; pounds ?'

>r the moment,' said Leon ominously, 'this is all i'we want. But be sure of one thing: if you try and

343

The Hit List

communicate anything else to Branca, we will shoot you in the face. Now where does she stay?'

'Rue Exelmans,' said Pasquale. 'In the seizieirte. With her husband.'

'And where else?'

'I don't know about anywhere else. I promise you.'

Slater pressed the muzzle of his silencer against the side of Pasquale's temple, and thumbed down the safety catch.

'Non!' screamed the dealer, his eyes bulging with fear. 'Je vousprie -- non . . . Attendez ... I tell you' - his voice was shaking now -- 'There is another place that she goes, but I never go there with her. I think it's somewhere in Barbes - in the dixhuitieme.'

'What makes you think that if you haven't been there?' asked Slater.

'I hear her talking with one of... the others. She was speaking some East Europe language, I think, but I hear her say "Eau de Javel" and "Prisunic" and "Boulevard Barbes". She was speaking in a low voice so I am not supposed to hear her, but I have good ears.'

'What's--' began Andreas.

'Prisunic's a cut-price supermarket chain,' replied Leon. 'And Eau de Javel is Jeyes fluid. Barbes is in north Paris, just east of the mainline railway track from the Gare du Nord, where you come in on Eurostar. It used to be very run-down, with a lot of immigrants' hostels and so on, but recently it's become quite hip. It's where middle-class white kids go to get their fix of black African culture. There's still a lot of crime there,

344

Chris Ryan

i, and it's still one of the easiest places to buy

mis -- especially since the Eastern European

�

ju're sure she said Barbes?' he asked, juale shrugged. 'That's what I heard.' Slater, his jaw clenched with the effort not to the affair was taking on an air of profound ity. First light was beginning to stain the sky the floor-to-ceiling windows, and he red if Eve was awake, or if she had managed to How were they treating her? While he knew S? experience that she was more than capable of ag after herself, he still revolted from the idea of Jeing afraid, or confused, or hurt. More than he wanted to save her, as she - with such Itch and skill - had saved him.

waited for two hours. Leon went but into the >r in order to make a report to Chris and Terry. 5 a time, so pliant seemed Pasquale, they turned on it TV and watched the rerun of a football game u'ch Marseilles managed to snatch victory from

3l

the players exchanged shirts, Andreas turned to 'Why don't we make that call now?' ?n looked at his watch, and nodded. For ten es he rehearsed Pasquale, taking him through contingency, every possible variation on the ersation. 'Tell her,' he kept repeating, 'that you Sine to her. That it's urgent. That it's political, ^you can't discuss it on an open line.'

345

The Hit List

Finally Leon was content, or as content as he was ever likely to be. 'Just remember,' he told Pasquale. 'I'm going to understand every word you say. One nuance, one inflexion that you are being coerced, and my colleague here will blow your brains through that window into the Rue de Lappe. So don't get clever.'

Pasquale hesitated for a moment, and then used his good hand to dial a seven-figure number, which Slater memorised.

The phone rang for thirty seconds.

'Branca? Chem? Oui, c'est moi, Miko ..."

Branca Nikolic was clearly very pissed off indeed at being woken before 7am, and in no mood to listen to the rantings of Miko Pasquale. Finally, however, the drug-dealer's urgency and fear communicated itself, and she listened. Thirty seconds later he clicked off the phone.

'She wouldn't let me come to her. She said to be at the Cafe Metz just outside Strasbourg St Denis metro station in half an hour.'

Leon nodded. Slater pulled out a metro map. 'What's the nearest station to here?' he asked Pasquale.

'Bastille.'

'Look,' Slater said to Leon. 'You can get to Strasbourg St Denis station direct from Bastille. No changes. And it's exactly the same--'

'. . . from Barbes,' Leon nodded. 'I know. I noticed that too. So, here's what we're going to do.'

Two minutes later Leon had gone, leaving Slater and

346

Chris Ryan

idreas to guard Pasquale. The plan, Leon had cided, was that Terry should go ahead to Strasbourg Denis by metro, locate Branca at the cafe, and be ady to follow her back to wherever she was staying, feiven that it was approaching rush hour, and that anca had nominated a cafe next to a metro station, it reasonable to assume that she would be arriving departing by metro. j< Given also that there were reasonable grounds for pposing that Branca was staying in Barbes, Leon auld go straight to Barbes-Rochechouart metro If their calculations were correct, Branca Id return from the Strasbourg St Denis rendezvous Jarbes, a journey of only four stops, and lead Leon I Terry to wherever she was staying. Of the three of bumped by Branca and her RDB team in the che-Guyon forest, Leon insisted, he was the least ly to be recognised. There were always a handful of ck guys in and around Barbes station handing out advertising the local marabouts, or West African i-doctors. He wouldn't stick out. In case Branca ved by car, Chris would be standing by in the sot.

and Andreas stayed with Pasquale. The smell Jy baked bread and freshly ground coffee was , up enticingly from the Rue de Lappe below, but vo ex-SAS men dared not allow Pasquale to make i all breakfast, as he had offered to do. The shaven led dealer had not got to carve out an important of the Parisian hard drugs market by being

347

The Hit List

amenable, Slater reflected. Only abject fear would keep him in line, and then not for long.

At eight o'clock precisely, Slater recocked the Sig Sauer and Pasquale dialled Branca's number and said what Leon had earlier ordered him to say. He had been sick since speaking to her, the dealer complained. He was feeling terrible. He could no longer make it to the rendezvous. Would she forgive him?

Slater and Andreas smiled at each other. They couldn't understand all the French, but Pasquale's Nokia was practically jumping out of his hands, so violent was Branca's fury at having been woken up and had her time wasted.

'The prtoblem?' Pasquale mumbled in response to a particularly vitriolic squawk. 'The problem's to do with one of the English models. The UK press are on to her habit and there's a danger that names are going to be named . . . Yes I did ask you to get out of bed to hear that, damn right . . . Well, it's important to me, and . . . No, you can't just pay off British tabloid journalists, no. But . . . Of course I'll deal with it, but you should be aware that

He held the phone away from his ear, shaking his head. He had clearly been cut off mid-sentence. Andreas reached over to confirm that the mobile was switched off and then nodded to Pasquale.

'That was good, man. I have to say that you were good there.'

What he did not say was that neither his nor Slater's French was good enough for them to have known if

348

Chris Ryan

ad attempted to warn Branca. Luckily, this jility did not seem to have occurred to Pasquale. Jbw about a drink, Miko?' Slater asked.

juale stared at him. 'A drink? You mean . . .' I whisky, yeah. Or a vodka. What've you got?'

ave whisky,' Pasquale gasped, screwing up his

i a wave of pain overtook him.

There?' asked Slater.

juale pointed feebly to a cabinet, from which s took out a sealed bottle of twelve-year-old Islay i glass.

if-filling the glass, he placed it in front of sale. 'Cheers!'

dealer stared from Slater to Andreas and back

'Non', he said, disbelievingly.

�'/' smiled Slater and Andreas together.

vly, hesitantly, Pasquale sipped at the drink, his easing as the alcohol reached his throat, ic on, mate, drink up,' said Andreas. 'You've i whole bottle to go.'

1 Pasquale hesitated. Pensively, Slater levelled the auer and blew the screen out of the television. I gesture had the required effect. With a shaking , Pasquale lifted the glass and took a deep swallow, icre's a boy!' said Andreas. 'That wasn't so bad, t?'

are minutes later half the bottle was gone. Pasquale f muttering to himself, his words slurring into in arehensibility. jme on, mate, down the hatch!' said Andreas

349

The Hit List

encouragingly, pinching the drunk man's nose, pulling back his head, and pouring in another neat glassful.

'Empty stomach,' said Slater. 'Always speeds it up. He isn't half going to feel like shit when he comes around. Not that it'll be anything to compare with what he puts smack and crack addicts through.' He looked at the dealer contemptuously. 'Will it? Eh, fuckface?'

Pasquale groaned and closed his eyes. Two thirds of the bottle was now washing around in his stomach.

'See if you can find a runnel in the kitchen,' Slater suggested to Andreas.

Ten minutes later the bottle lay empty on the floor. Laying him on a carpet, Slater and Andreas dragged the by now helpless Pasquale into the furthest bedroom, hauled him on to the bed, plasticuffed him with his arms behind his back, and pulled a duvet over him. He started to snore almost immediately. In order to be forewarned if Branca attempted to make contact, Slater also pocketed the dealer's mobile phone.

'How long's he going to be under for, do you reckon?' asked Andreas.

'At a guess, until this evening,' replied Slater. 'We'll probably have to make a return visit at some point and top him up.'

'Well I looked in the cupboard and there's another five bottles of this stuff, so he can carry on his bender without switching brands.'

'He'll be glad of that,' said Slater.

They closed the bedroom door on the unconscious

350

Chris Ryan

|uale and placed the empty whisky bottle inside the ed television, as if it had been hurled there in a ("drunken rage. Anyone searching further -- for the i few hours at least - would find the sleeping figure ath the duvet. Should the searcher go further still, aver the plasticuffs and attempt to wake him, it was y that a coherent explanation of his condition be forthcoming. The rapid consumption of Mproof alcohol induces short-term memory loss, would be some days before Pasquale would be piece together what had happened to him. just to be on the safe side, Slater and Andreas themselves into the flat. 'How about some st?' asked Andreas. 'The kitchen's pretty well sd and I'm bloody starving.' I English, then,' said Slater.

it's mobile rang shortly after Sam. It was Chris. 'Is jtnan immobilised?' she asked. le's down,' Slater answered. jlet back here ASAP. Terry and Leon have a result.' punched the air. 'That's brilliant!' ers crossed. See you soonest.' , the hotel, the mood was optimistic. Terry had to stake out the location, so Leon told them had happened since the two of them left dale's flat an hour and a half earlier.

len Pasquale rang to say he wasn't coming to the |sat the Cafe Metz, Branca got seriously, seriously off. She shouted at the waiter, banged down

351

The Hit List

some change, and headed straight back to the Strasbourg St Denis metre. Four stops up the line to Barbes and she charges out again with Terry in tow. I'm hanging out at the station exit with the Africans when she comes screaming through - still far too angry to think about counter-surveillance - and starts moving up the Boulevard Barbes at high speed. I lock on behind Terry and we tail her up the boulevard and into the Rue de la Goutte d'Or. A few more twists and turns through the souk and she goes into this narrow little place called the Rue de Coude.

'Terry and I wait until she's inside, make a couple of passes past the building, and then pull back. The place is a brick-built warehouse block, previously containing garment-industry sweatshops. Most of the units now look vacant, but the security's recently been reinforced on the top-floor windows -- and I mean very recently, because the wood shavings, iron-filings and spare bolts are still lying out on the roadside beneath the windows - so our best guess is that that's where they've got her. Terry's still over there, anyway, so he'll let us know as soon as he's got confirmation.'

'Did you get a look at the roof?' asked Slater.

'I knew you were going to ask that!' said Leon. 'And * the answer is not really. Terry'11 certainly give it a good 1 recce, but I didn't have time. All I can tell you is that \ it's tiled, and not flat.'

'Our main advantage,' said Chris, 'seems to be that they don't know that we've sussed the place. They're

352

Chris Ryan

sing to be expecting any kind of assault.'

ee with that,' said Leon. 'My guess is that the the windows were put there specifically to e in. They're not anticipating having to keep ^anyone else out.'

how do we play it?' asked Slater. 'If we go in aanded with automatic weapons and try and : out, we'll have the place crawling with armed within minutes. Can we do it on an official : the Regiment in, or at a pinch the French I?'

had a word with the boss,' said Chris. 'And sion our own. No Regiment, no GIGN, nothing even the police. Politically the whole thing's just achy. The basic message is that Eve's ours, we've extract her on our own, and if anyone gets they can expect no help from HMG. Hostile

remember?' iant,' said Slater. : others looked at him. 'That's how it usually is, ' said Andreas. 'That's the price we pay for our stions-asked status.'

nodded. He didn't want the others to think had an emotional involvement in the situation involvement that might compromise his tional efficiency. If Leon or Chris suspected that I'was something between him and Eve, they'd him to the background immediately. He was st recent recruit to the Cadre, he reminded f, and as such the most disposable.