Assassin (John Stratton) (35 page)

‘It’s the bomb,’ the Russian said, shocked.

‘You led them here.’

Wheeland could only watch, just as stunned as they were.

‘You’re a damned fool, Wheeland,’ Betregard said as he raised a pistol and shot Wheeland. The bullet struck the spook in the forehead and he fell back to the floor with a heavy crash.

Betregard got up out of his chair and went to a cabinet, which he unlocked. ‘My instincts tell me that if we get rid of those two, we’ll have a lot less explaining to do,’ he said, handing Gatovik an assault rifle and taking another. Together they marched out of the room.

As they headed down the corridor towards the door at the end, Betregard said, ‘I’m going to give you a quick lesson in Wild West diplomacy, Gatovik.’ He cocked his weapon and brought it up into his shoulder. ‘We’re going to settle this the old-fashioned way. Open the door and come out shooting.’

Gatovik loaded and cocked his weapon. ‘I always liked the Wild West way of doing things,’ he said.

Betregard kicked open the door and brought the barrel of the weapon up as he marched outside. Gatovik moved out behind him and to his side.

The first thing Betregard noticed was Stratton and Chandos standing with their arms high in the air. Half a second later he realised why.

Several hundred police and soldiers surrounded the entire place. A couple of squad cars screeched to a halt in the street. An Apache gunship thundered low overhead.

Gatovik turned around to see soldiers roping down onto the roof of the building from a helicopter, a line of them already in position and aiming their guns at him.

‘Put your weapons down and hold your hands in the air,’ a voice boomed over a loudspeaker. ‘You have three seconds to comply or you’ll be killed.’

Betregard lowered his weapon to the ground. When he straightened up, he stuck his hands in the air and looked at Stratton coldly.

The operative stared back and gave him a wink.

Chandos and Stratton walked through the departure hall of JFK International airport towards their gate. Stratton had a slight limp. One of his arms was bandaged and in a sling. They were cleaned up and wearing new casual clothes, care of the Central Intelligence Agency. And two suited men from said organisation were escorting them along the hallway.

They reached their gate, a BA flight to London Heathrow.

‘We’ll leave you to it,’ one of the agents said with a friendly smile.

‘Thanks very much for your hospitality,’ Chandos said.

‘Thank
you
,’ the agent said. ‘You have a good flight.’

They all shook hands and the suits departed. Chandos sighed heavily and sat down. He wore a look of immense satisfaction.

Stratton sat beside him, looking troubled by something.

‘So, we return conquering heroes after all,’ Chandos said. ‘When we get onto the plane I strongly suggest we have champagne right away. One must always grab any opportunity to celebrate.’

Stratton forced a smile but his thoughts were elsewhere.

‘What is it?’ Chandos asked. ‘If you’re still bothered about the interrogation from our chaps when we get home, don’t worry about it. I’ll take full responsibility.’

That wasn’t what Stratton was thinking about.

‘By the way. Lydia asked me to tell you thank you very much for everything.’

‘Lydia?’

‘Bullfrog. She’s unable to take any credit for her side of things, of course. After a pat on the back, her people would more than likely fire her for the way she got the information out of the meeting room in the first place. There’s also no way of knowing how many senior Russians were involved. So mum’s still the word as far as she’s concerned.’

Stratton saw someone across the hall who suddenly consumed his entire focus. She was wearing a colourful, summery skirt and looking fresh and quite beautiful. Her expression was blank, to the uninitiated that is. But Stratton was one of the few people in the world who had learned to see the smile in her eyes.

He smiled back.

Lara walked towards him. He pushed himself out of his seat.

‘What are your plans?’ Chandos asked him, unaware of Lara. ‘Are you going to take that vacation you’re owed?’

‘Possibly.’

Chandos realised Stratton was distracted and followed his gaze.

The operative walked over to meet her and they stopped in front of each other. She didn’t take her eyes off his.

‘Hi,’ he said. ‘I was hoping I’d see you.’

‘I find myself with time on my hands,’ she said.

‘You have a break from work?’

‘More like work has broken from me. I’ve been released.’

‘You did the right thing.’

‘I don’t have any regrets. But I expect the organisation will be disbanded. We were compromised.’

‘What will your father say?’

She smiled at the thought of him. ‘He would’ve done the same thing.’ She looked into Stratton’s eyes. ‘I’m going to be in Geneva tomorrow evening.’

‘I’m envious.’

‘A Swiss International Air Lines flight leaves for Geneva three hours after you land in Heathrow. There’s a first-class reservation waiting for you at the check-in desk.’

Stratton did his best to control his surprise. ‘Right.’

‘I’ll see you at Geneva arrivals.’

He was suddenly unsure about something. ‘Is this business or pleasure?’

‘I’m going to take you to a log cabin in the mountains where there’s a fire, a cauldron of hot water and a small bed on the floor,’ she said. ‘I want to start some things over again.’

She leaned close to him and her lips met his. They kissed gently, the sparkle mutual.

She stepped back, her eyes lingering on his for a moment. Then she walked away.

Stratton watched her go until she was out of sight and went back to sit beside Chandos. He was a changed man. Relaxed and now as content with life as Chandos.

‘You have a date with an integer,’ Chandos said, unsure if he could believe it.

Stratton shrugged, acting indifferent. But the smile on his lips would have been impossible to erase at that point.

Chandos smiled along with him. ‘I think that just about sums you up, Stratton . . . Yes, that just about sums you up.’