Dead Line (26 page)

Hannah seemed excited, drinking white wine and munching prawn crackers she took in handfuls from a large bowl on the kitchen table. Sophie had disappeared momentarily to put little Zack to bed - the baby was already asleep.

‘I was just telling Sophie before you came that I’ve had the most wonderful news. I’ve been asked to go to the peace conference, as part of the peace delegation.’ Her eyes lit up.

‘That’s great. I didn’t know there was to be a peace delegation. So you’re going to Gleneagles?’

Hannah nodded. ‘I’ve even got a place to stay. Some B and B in Auchterarder.’ She laughed. ‘Did I pronounce it right?’

‘I think so,’ said Liz, with a smile. ‘To the Scots I’m as foreign as you.’

‘Obviously, from the Israeli government point of view it’s all just a PR exercise. They’ve invited a small group of Jewish peace activists to meet the Israeli delegation before the main conference starts. But if they think we’re just going to act like yes men they’ve got another think coming.’ She added defiantly, ‘We’ll make our views known, don’t you worry. They have no more right to act as if they represent Israel than we do.’

‘Who invited you?’

‘The embassy,’ she said proudly. ‘They knew I was here and put my name on the list.’ Then she looked embarrassed. ‘I think Danny had something to do with it. He denied it, but he knew how much I’d like to go.’

She seemed so enthusiastic that Liz waited a moment before asking, ‘Did Danny say if he’d be going to the conference, too?’

‘Yes. I mean no, he won’t be. It’s a shame in some ways, though I think it would have been difficult for him - you know, having to act as a member of the official delegation, while your heart was really with the peace movement people.’

Liz tried to look sympathetic, but inwardly she was puzzled. Why wasn’t Kollek going? ‘Did he say why he won’t be there?’

‘He’s going to be in Israel. There’s some trade conference he has to attend. That’s his speciality after all.’

‘Of course.’ She added, trying to make it sound like an afterthought, ‘Is there anything he asked you to do at the conference?’

Hannah shook her head. ‘Not really. He said we’d talk on the phone - I know he wants to know how we get on up there.’

‘So you’re going to ring him from Gleneagles?’ asked Liz, trying to keep the tension out of her voice. If Hannah had Danny’s mobile number, they should be able to trace its location - and his.

‘No,’ said Hannah. ‘He said he’s going to ring me. He didn’t say when, I’m afraid,’ she added, sensing that Liz wanted to know. She smiled wanly.

Damn, thought Liz. Kollek could be anywhere, and she had no way to find him. But if he wasn’t going to Gleneagles, then just what was he up to? Sophie had come into the kitchen now, and though she was busy by the stove, starting the stir fry, Liz could see she was listening closely.

Hannah suddenly sighed, sounding exasperated. ‘Honestly, you two keep acting like Danny’s got terrible designs on me. First you think he’s a gigolo, Sophie; now you both act like he’s some kind of spy.’

Liz ignored this, and asked, ‘Has Danny already left for Israel?’

Hannah looked over at Sophie, who kept her back turned to them both. ‘Not yet. In fact, I’m seeing him the day after tomorrow. We’re going to a lunchtime concert in St John’s church in Smith Square.’

‘That should be good,’ said Liz, making a note to talk to A4 first thing in the morning.

FORTY-FOUR

Two days later at half past two in the afternoon, Liz was in the A4 control room in Thames House, sitting on the old leather sofa that was kept especially for case officers who wanted to hear how their operations were going. This was the domain of Reggie Purves, the A4 controller, and the rules were set by him. Case officers were allowed in, provided they kept quiet. If Reggie needed their contribution, he’d ask for it. That Liz was there at all was a sign of how concerned she had become about Kollek. She would normally have left a surveillance operation to the experts and waited until afterwards for the debrief.

Denis Rudge’s team had picked up Kollek as he came out of the lunchtime concert at St John’s Smith Square and were behind him as he walked with Hannah towards the Houses of Parliament. Liz listened to the exchanges between the team and the control room as Hannah and Kollek reached Westminster Underground station, where they bought tickets from the machine and went down the escalator, with A4 in pursuit.

Five minutes later a report came in from the liaison officer on the surface that both had got out at Embankment station and changed onto the Northern Line. Another ten minutes of waiting, then a further transmission passed on the information that at Leicester Square Kollek had got off and changed onto the Piccadilly Line, heading west towards Heathrow. Hannah had stayed on the Northern Line and, as briefed, the teams had let her go, and were concentrating on Kollek. Wally Woods and his team were on the train with him. Back-up teams in cars were already well on the way to Heathrow, ready to meet him if he got off there and follow him if he went into the terminals.

In answer to Liz’s enquiry, the information came back that Kollek was not carrying a bag of any sort.

Liz knew it was a waste of time for her to sit in the operations room all afternoon, just waiting to see what happened. There was nothing she could do there, so she dragged herself away and went back to her office, having extracted a promise from Reggie Purves that he would ring her immediately if anything significant happened.

She had just sat down at her desk when Charles stuck his head round the door. ‘I’m really worried about Kollek,’ she said as soon as she saw him. ‘Peggy’s getting nowhere fast. She’s drawn a complete blank with the FBI and she’s still waiting to hear from the Europeans. I’ve told her she can’t make enquiries in Israel.

‘Now A4 have got Kollek on the Underground, apparently going to Heathrow. Do you think he’s leaving the country? He’s told Hannah he’s not going to the conference but he seems to have set it up for her to go with some sort of a peace delegation. What on earth do you think’s going on, Charles? The conference is next week and I’ve got a really bad feeling about it.’

‘I’ve no more idea than you what’s going on,’ he replied. ‘But I don’t like the look of it either and I’m thinking it’s time we talked to the Israelis.’

‘But Charles. You can’t. We promised Ty Oakes that we wouldn’t.’

‘Well, we’ll just have to persuade him to change his mind.’

She looked at him in surprise and for the first time she noticed how grey and drawn he looked. ‘Charles,’ she said, ‘are you OK? You look really tired.’

‘Not really,’ he said, sitting down heavily in her visitor’s chair. ‘There’s something I wanted to tell you. That’s what I came in for.’ He paused and looked away from her. ‘It’s Joanne. She’s dying. The consultant has said it won’t be very long now.’

‘Oh Charles. I’m so sorry,’ said Liz. She was mortified. She’d been so focused on her own problems that she hadn’t even noticed how upset he was. ‘How long?’ she asked tentatively, not really wanting to hear the answer.

‘I don’t know. It’s a matter of weeks, I think. No more. It could be days. She’s very weak now. Spends most of the time in bed.’

Liz reached across and touched his arm. ‘Oh Charles,’ she said again. ‘How dreadful for you. Is there anything I can do to help?’ Knowing that there wasn’t.

He shook his head, looking down and his eyes filled with tears. After a few seconds he seemed to shake himself and he looked up, blinking the tears away. ‘So I’m going to be at home now until the end. She needs me there and so do the boys. I’m really sorry to be leaving you in the lurch.’

‘I can manage,’ she said, though something like panic gripped her stomach as she realised what a weight of responsibility had now fallen on her.

‘Tyrus Oakes is back in town. You need to go and see him and persuade him that the time has come to talk to Mossad. I’ve spoken to Geoffrey Fane and I’ve asked him to go with you. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think there’s a better chance of persuading him if Geoffrey’s there too. You’ve met Oakes and I’m sure you know what I mean.’

She grimaced but she knew he was right. Oakes with all his Southern charm was a steely customer and he’d think he could run rings round someone who was much younger and a woman. She could probably get her own way in the end, she reckoned, but it would just be much quicker and simpler if Geoffrey Fane was there to lean on him.

‘Good luck,’ Charles said. ‘I’ve every confidence in you. I’ll be on the end of the telephone any time you want to ring me and DG has said to keep him closely in touch with what’s going on. He’ll make sure you get whatever support you need. I know you and Geoffrey Fane don’t have the easiest relationship - I don’t always see eye to eye with him either, as you know - but he is a real professional and he has a high regard for you, so consult him too. I’m sure you can rely on him to help in a crisis.’

Liz nodded, thinking that was the first time Charles had ever actually said anything about his opinion of Geoffrey Fane.

‘Well, I’d better be going now,’ he said, getting up. Liz stood up too and they faced each other awkwardly for a second or two, then he reached out and took her hand. ‘You know, I’m really glad you met Joanne, Liz. She liked you so much.’

‘I’m glad too,’ she said, looking up at him. He turned and left the room.

When he’d gone, she sat down again at her desk, put her head on her arms and cried.

It wasn’t until she was back at home in Kentish Town and considering what to eat for supper that Reggie Purves rang. Kollek had got off the Underground at Heathrow. He’d gone to the El Al desk in Terminal One. He must have had a ticket or shown some kind of pass because he was let through airside. By the time A4 had got hold of Special Branch at the terminal to get them through airside too, he was nowhere to be seen. They’d searched all the shops and the restaurants and the open lounges. Wally’s partner Maureen Hayes and a Special Branch officer had been into the El Al lounge too but there was no sign of him there either and no one admitted to having seen him. No El Al flight for Israel had departed yet, so he’d either left the airport or gone on some other flight.

‘We’ll wait until the EL Al flight leaves. Boarding’s at 21.05 and we can see if he turns up at the gate. But then either we’ll have to withdraw or I’ll need to allocate some fresh teams. That might be a problem as we’ve got a lot on for counter terrorism tonight.’

‘Thanks,’ said Liz. ‘Watch till boarding’s complete and if he doesn’t turn up withdraw and we’ll just have to assume we’ve lost him.’

‘OK,’ replied Reggie.

Liz put the phone down and poured herself a glass of wine. She knew with a sinking feeling that Kollek had slipped through their fingers. He wasn’t going to turn up for that flight and now they had no idea where he was or what he was doing.

At 9.30 the phone rang. She was right. Kollek had not boarded. Damn.

FORTY-FIVE

Andy Bokus was fed up. The last thing he wanted was another visitation from the Brits, and if Ty Oakes hadn’t been in town and looking over his shoulder he would have fobbed them off. Hadn’t they already had their pound of Bokus flesh?

He felt he’d been made to look stupid. He kicked himself for being picked up by the MI5 surveillance of Danny Kollek. But he’d had no reason to think they’d be watching the Israeli. Kollek was undeclared, after all, and his operations were discreet enough not to have attracted MI5’s attention. Or at least, that’s what he’d told Bokus.

Now Bokus had to wonder. He kept asking himself what had put MI5 onto Kollek in the first place. Maybe he could learn that today; there had to be something useful he could get out of this meeting.

He looked without appetite at the slab of Danish pastry on his plate, and took a careless slug from his coffee, cursing as he burned his tongue. He was sitting in the embassy restaurant, practically deserted at mid-morning. He’d been in his office before eight, but he’d been too agitated to eat breakfast.

He wondered what the Brits had made of the material Kollek had supplied. Not much, he guessed. It was low-grade stuff. He knew that, but that wasn’t the point. You had to take a long-term view, and by that standard Kollek was potentially one of the most important agents the CIA had ever had. The idea of jeopardising all this because the Brits were panicked about a peace conference that no one thought for a minute was going to get anywhere, was ridiculous.

At least Miles Brookhaven was away, so he didn’t have to put up with meeting the Brits with that preppy jerk in tow. He remembered how self-satisfied the Ivy Leaguer had looked when Ty Oakes had briefed him about the Kollek debacle. Concerned and superior at the same time. Bokus had never been a fan of Miles Brookhaven, but now he actively disliked him. He had managed to get rid of him temporarily by accelerating the junior officer’s annual trip to Syria. Bokus had claimed it might be useful, given the imminent peace conference, though that was just an excuse to get him out of his hair.

Now Fane and that Carlyle woman had asked for this meeting and he was worried in case they’d found out something else to his discredit. His reputation at Langley was high, ever since the Madrid bombings, when he’d done so well. He wasn’t used to being caught out embarrassingly by his host country.

He felt on edge as he looked at his watch - the Brits were due any minute. Fane he could just about stomach: all that British upper-class stuff grated on him and he was pretty sure Fane considered himself both his intellectual and social superior. It was irritating, too, when Fane played the gifted amateur, whose work in intelligence was just one of many hobbies, like fly fishing or collecting rare books. But beneath that smooth, cynical facade, Bokus knew Fane was a pro - which meant he was a guy you could do business with.

That woman Carlyle, on the other hand, was harder to read. She had none of Fane’s snootiness or affectation, and on the surface she seemed much more straightforward and direct. Yet it was hard to know what was going on with her - what she was really thinking. And there was something relentless too, a sort of tenacity that Bokus found uncomfortable, particularly when he was its target. She needed watching, as he’d told Miles Brookhaven.