Chapter 11
Encased, almost invisible in the cascade of flowers, was a heavy plastic zip-lock envelope. It contained a single sheet of paper written with a sequence of meaningless words and two newly forged high quality passports. One in the name of Alan Carstairs and one in the name of Madeline Le Page. The sheet of paper made no sense without the simple code-breaker that Valentina had given Colby. It would be easy enough to crack the shift-cypher for any cryptographer worth his salt but it was an effective delaying tactic for anyone who might stumble upon the information with a view to using it to discover the whereabouts of the princess.
They rode the bike out of the city as the early morning light started to fill the sky. There was the promise of a fine day as they sat in a rest area but at this hour there was still a chillness in the air. Natasha paced back and forth keeping warm while Colby assiduously deciphered the message a single character at a time. Once revealed, their instructions were simple enough. They were instructed to go to the Central Railway Station by the Piazza della Libertà, north of the city centre. They would abandon the BMW there and walk the short distance to the nearby Hotel Italia where a room had been booked for them. The day was theirs to use as they wished but were required to take the midnight train to Milan travelling as uncle and niece still apparently on a touring holiday. Colby couldn't help thinking that father and daughter was more plausible. He shrugged to himself.
"What?" Natasha said. Ever watchful she had learned to read Colby's expressions like a psychologist in waiting.
"Nothing..." Colby said. "Are you hungry?"
"A little... Colby I have no clean clothes."
"I was wondering what the smell was." He received a prod in the ribs for his humour. It marked another softening of their once turbulent relationship. "OK we have plenty of time on our hands today, we'll book into the hotel and get cleaned up, have some breakfast and then... ta-dah hit the shops."
Natasha managed a half hearted giggle, the plan seemed to meet with her approval. She allowed the last of his mornings ration of smiles to drift across her face and felt she was at last taming him, he was starting to become a man she could trust, a friend even... maybe not quite that. As they filtered back into the growing traffic with Natasha hugging tightly round his waist, Colby noticed for the first time the reflection that drifted in and out of his mirrors. It was the ghostly image of a charcoal grey Mini Cooper. A common enough car but this particular one had the roof painted in the colours of the Italian flag. His eyes kept darting back to the mirrors, the Mini was always there following with one or two cars separating them. He took a series of side streets while keeping a close eye on his mirrors. He wound on a little more throttle and the BMW surged forwards, cresting the rise of a hill at speed when he would be temporarily invisible to the Mini, he suddenly braked and pulled to the side of the road. Seconds later the Mini appeared in his mirror as it followed across to top of the hill. The car was travelling fast in an attempt to keep pace with the sudden acceleration of the bike. Too fast to stop without it being an obvious confirmation that it wanted to be behind the BMW.
"I think we have a tail." Colby said to Natasha. "Just hold tight, I'm going to take evasive action." Colby accelerated back in the direction he had just come. He flicked left across the traffic, at the first intersection leaning the bike deep into the corner and allowing the engine to snarl with aggressive acceleration. He snapped left again and squeezed through a narrow gap between a delivery truck and string of commuter traffic then pulled into a narrow side street. There was a warehouse with an open roller door waiting for a delivery, Colby braked hard pushing Natasha hard against his back. The rear wheel of the heavy BMW slithered sideways for an instant on the greasy concrete as Colby took the bike into the relative darkness of the warehouse. There was no one around, a fork lift truck sat unattended idling diesel fumes into the enclosed space. Tea break Colby thought... Do Italians take tea breaks?
He waited five minutes before cautiously edging back out into the fresh air. There was no sign of the Mini so they resumed the journey to the station. Colby felt satisfied that he had successfully lost the Mini and allowed his shoulders to relax. He let the bike slow to the meandering speed of a wandering tourist. The bike had handled well, he would abandon it at the station with regret. Colby might have been less relaxed if he had noticed a pale blue Fiat 500 behind them, invisible among the myriad similar cars that plied the city streets. A small car that was always three or four cars behind them even after Colby's little diversionary tactic.
As instructed they left the BMW at the station with the key tucked away under the seat. The Hotel Italia was an easy stroll from the station, they crossed the short distance with the relaxed gait of tourists with time to burn, crossing the piazza and the garden, pausing to gaze with curiosity into the shop windows then along the narrow Via dela Geppa where the Hotel Italia stood in its renovated glory.
"Do you speak English?" Colby asked the receptionist who greeted them with a bright red lipstick smile that could easily have been accepted as genuine. "I believe we are expected, Alan Carstairs and my niece Madeline Le Page."
"Ah yes I have the reservation here sir... You will be staying just the one day?"
"We have to catch a train late this evening."
"Ah yes..."
They were shown to the room, took advantage of the copious hot water and soft clean towels and dressed as respectably as their diminished wardrobes allowed. It was still only eight thirty they found their way to the dining room and ordered a continental breakfast, croissants, juice, coffee, a little cherry conserve for Natasha's sweet-tooth.
Anonymous and unobserved despite the injudicious parking in a loading bay outside the hotel was the pale blue Fiat. It would be sure to eventually attract a parking ticket if the warden were not occupied reaping the day's early gossip from her friend at the Café Geppa.
"Colby, you think the guy in the Mini was after us?"
"Better call me uncle Alan..."
Natasha made a groan. "All this stupid name changing is getting tedious... So the Mini?
"I don't know for certain but it would be a fair guess. The fact is we lost them so there's nothing to worry about. They'll be looking for two people on a bike... We don't have a bike anymore."
"OK... " She took a sip of juice. "What would they do if they caught us?"
"Remember I told you that I would keep you safe?"
"Yes... You told me back on Ikinos when we first met... I didn't believe you then either."
"You can trust me, this is my job and I'm good at it. There's nothing for you to worry about." She gave him an unconvinced shrug but her attention had already been diverted by two women who had just entered the restaurant. Colby's first glance identified them as mother and daughter. The mother was a woman of about fifty still possessed of a discrete attractiveness despite tending towards comfortable middle age corpulence. Her hair was tied elegantly into a chignon and showed the first traces of greying. She was dressed in a beige Burberry trench coat with a pink silk scarf at her neck. Carrying a white folding cane and wearing dark glasses she appeared to be without sight. The daughter if she were that, walked with her arm linked into her mother's. She guided the older woman with a delicate touch, there seemed a bond of affection that made their interaction easy, instinctive. The younger woman was maybe late twenties and possessed of considerably more than her fair share of attractiveness. Her hair, short but expensively styled and stridently blond fell softly against her slender neck. She had delicate features and heavily made up eyes deep enough to fall into. She wore distressed jeans, a passing fashion statement that had already survived several decades. The tight jeans showing off the perfect curve of her hips, she caught Colby's gaze with an eyebrows up smile of misty pleasure. Colby shifted his protracted gaze away as if he had been a peeping tom caught at a bedroom window.
Natasha's attention was captivated not by their appearance but by their conversation, conducted in French. "You're French."
She exclaimed in her native tongue before Colby could divert her from the overwhelming urge to make contact with someone from the land she still ached for.
"Yes, we're in Trieste on holiday. Where are you from my dear?" They spoke in French and Colby strained with his time-faded schoolroom French to understand what was being said.
"I'm from Nice... I'm Madeline...This is my uncle Alan... He's English." She added as if warning them not to be alarmed by any eccentricity. "Won't you join us?"
Colby took his understanding from Natasha's excited gestures more than her words and groaned inwardly. No Natasha no... low profile. But he was too late, the offer was readily accepted. Colby smiled pleasantly while his molars ground together in silent disapproval. The women took just coffee and introduced themselves as Sophie and Clémence. The the elder of the two engaged Natasha in gentle conversation on the attractiveness of the south of France while her daughter took delight in distracting Colby with her innate charm utilising the English in which she was adept.
"Alan, what do you do for a living?... No let me guess..." Clémence touched his face with her eyes as she searched his rugged features seeking clues. "I'd say something active, maybe a sports coach, football manager." She smiled as if she were trying to provoke him."
"How clever... That's exactly what I am." he said.
"Oh really?... comme c'est merveilleux!" She took a slow sip from her cup, her little finger poised elegantly. "OK you do me." She said. Colby smiled at the thought but satisfied himself by playing her guessing game.
"A fashion model?" He suggested.
"Ah... I thought Englishmen were too gallant to resort to flattery."
Colby's eyes crossed to Natasha, what he wanted to do was extricate them from this encounter, charming as it was. Natasha was so overexcited at meeting these French women that she might let anything slip.
"I wonder Madeline, if you might spare a moment do an infirm lady a service?... Clémence gets so tired of me being a constant burden..."
"Oh mother I really do not," the daughter said "what will these nice people think of me?"
The mother smiled at her daughter. "Nevertheless... Madeline, you see I have difficulty with my eyes... would you mind accompanying me to the toilets?"
"Of course, I'd be happy to." Natasha declared.
Colby was floundering in the dark sea of his French comprehension and before he could act Natasha was on her feet taking hold of Sophie's arm and steering her towards the toilets. Colby's eyes flashed nervously but before he could decide what to do Clémence was already dragging him back into conversation.
"So Alan, how is it that you are on holiday with your niece?" Clémence nudged herself closer to Colby and gently anaesthetised him with a soft smile. He was no less susceptible to the distractions of an attractive woman than any other of his gender. Clémence let her fingers rest almost imperceptibly against his arm and leaned in towards him. Her perfume made him dizzy. "And how is it that an Englishman has a French niece?" He had rehearsed the answer to this question and it fell from his lips as if he were speaking the truth.
"My sister married a guy from Nice... Look if you'll excuse me I'll just make sure Madeline is OK." He made a move to pull to his feet.
"Oh won't you stay and talk to me Alan, those two will be ages... I thought we were getting on so well... You know I think you were not quite honest with me when you said you were a football manager."
Colby glanced across to where Natasha had taken Sophie. There was no sign of either of them.
"I'll be back in a moment." He said to a pouting Clémence who suddenly seemed way too seductive... way too good to be true.
He stood by the door to the ladies. A woman, mid thirties long dark hair pushed through the doors heaving with the weight of a wheelchair. There was a child, baseball cap low over his eyes, slumped in the chair. A soft toy nestled within the folds of a pale blue blanket that was draped over him. Colby held the door for them. He felt a sudden stab of compassion for the woman and her invalid child. He hesitated before speaking.
"Excuse me, did you see a blind woman and a girl in there?"
"Si Si grey haired lady, I think. They waiting for empty cubicle."
"Thank you." Colby said as a brief wave of relief flowed over him. He followed them to the entrance and held the door for them to pass through. He returned to the toilets and waited for five long minutes before deciding to ask Clémence to see if everything was all right. He paced back to the dining room, nearly colliding with a group of excited children being chased by their fraught mother – "Sorry." – "Sorry."
He slid past the family as the youngest of the children suddenly burst into howling tears. Colby looked across to where they had been sitting, the remains of the breakfast was still there his cup of coffee only half drunk. Clémence was gone and Colby's heart sank, his sixth sense had tried to warm him, alert him to her too easy familiarity but had been overruled by a surge of testosterone.
Colby rarely felt the adrenaline-jolt of panic but this moment drew him to the very brink. He raced back to the toilets and burst unceremoniously into the hallowed space into which he was allowed no access. The room was brightly lit, sparkling surfaces and polished chrome. Reflecting mirrors showing nothing but an empty room; in the corner lay a padded Burberry trench coat, a grey wig, and a white cane.
He ran out into the street where he had last seen the woman with her disabled child. He ran twenty metres up towards the junction then back a similar distance in the other direction but there was no sign of Natasha or her kidnappers. He raced across to the piazza de la libertà his eyes wide, scanning across the gardens towards the station. Think Colby think...
It was then that he saw the Mini Cooper turning across the Via Tivarnella maybe 75 metres away, the Italian flag on the roof seeming to mock his stupidity. The Mini was held up in the warp and weft of the morning commuter traffic; this was Italy there was the constant blare of car horns but his ears were shut to the sound. He broke into a sprint cutting across the gardens and then out into the streaming traffic. When he reached the Mini it was moving again, just starting to accelerate into an opening gap. He dashed out in front of it arms waving. The Mini screeched to a halt swerving across the lane to avoid him, Colby wrenched open the door and grabbed the driver by his thinning hair pulling him back against the headrest. When Colby realised that the driver was alone in the car, he felt the sudden need to be sick.
"Where is she?" he yelled.
"Let go of the hair, I've little enough to spare... Just get in Mr Linden."
The voice was undoubtedly that of an Englishman. Colby was stunned. "Who the hell are you?"
"Just get in for fuck's sake. I'm in danger of getting done for a traffic violation, that's the last thing I need."
Colby slid into the passenger seat and the Mini pulled out into the flow of traffic accompanied by an orchestra of car horns with frustrated drivers apparently conducting the impromptu scherzo with their own version of musical gesticulation.
"Who the hell are you?" Colby repeated once the Mini had found a measure of anonymity on the Via Udine. The man was unexceptional in appearance. His small dark eyes as watchful as a hawk, followed his passenger's every movement. He was a broad shouldered man in his forties, his skin had the waxy pallor of an office worker. Even whilst occupied with driving, he had the aura of someone faintly troubling, self assured even in the face of threatening behaviour, a man to be wary of. The accent was London with an edge of public school poshness that remained stubbornly undisguised. "I said who the hell are you and how do you know my name?" Colby repeated in his most menacing voice: slow, deep and full of unstated threat.
"You can call me Barry..." The driver said "Been following you since the cemetery."
"I know." Colby said.
"Yes, not my best work... Nice job of avoidance by the way. If I hadn't known you were headed for the station I never would have found you."
"If you think back it was me who found you Barry... And you st
ill haven't answered my question." Colby said. "And while were exchanging pleasantries how did you know I was heading for the Station?"
"I assume the girl has gone missing." Barry said.
"I'm going to get very angry very soon unless you give me some answers Barry."
"Look... I'm with the government... "
"Who's government?"
"You really need to ask? Seems your boss at Equis took fright at the rapidly escalating situation in Sachovia. Called in a favour. I just happened to be the man on the spot, actually I have been deflected from my day job of keeping an eye on some weapons traffickers who use Trieste as a convenient staging post"
"Sorry to be a nuisance... You mentioned a favour?"
"She wanted to make sure you didn't stuff up... Seems I was a bit late."
"How did you find me? I've been taking inordinate pains to remain invisible."
"Well you did rather let your whereabouts slip to your Equis boss..."
Colby sighed. Did he have to hide even from Jane?
"So what part of the government do you represent Barry?"
"You seriously can't expect me to answer that Mr Linden."
"I don't see why the British government would be concerned with this."
"You'd be surprised, the political ramifications of a new war in Sachovia run deep for the whole of Europe even our cousins across the Atlantic are watching developments nervously. Mind you since 911 taking a deep interest in the business of other sovereignties seems to be something of a developing national pass-time for them."
Colby stayed silent for a while trying to make sense of what he was hearing. "Where are we going?" Colby finally said.
"I'm taking you back to your Hotel."
"Do you have any idea where they have taken Natasha Kashinka?"
"Sorry, rather in the dark on that one. We'll get feelers out but I'm not hopeful. We don't have much of a presence in Italy, have to rely on the locals and they can get a little sniffy."
"Do you know who took her?"
"Could be either faction?"
"I don't think they want her dead," Colby said "she was sedated and pushed away in a wheelchair. It would have been simpler to poison her and leave her dead if they wanted that." Barry nodded, in contrast to his passenger, he seemed to be rather enjoying the excitement of the morning. "The anti-monarchists would likely have killed her on the spot and the Sachovian government are the ones employing Equis to transport her safely, they can have no motive for the kidnapping." Colby's words were really aimed at buttressing his own disordered thoughts.
"Can't argue with that." Barry said as he stood heavily on the brakes outside the hotel.
"That'll be a fiver Gov.'" Barry said with a wink that showed an almost callous lack of concern.
"What are you going to do now?" Colby asked.
"Report in... This news is likely to spark a minor panic back at the office."
"Can I keep in touch with you?" Colby asked. "It might be useful to have a contact on the spot."
"Oh I really don't think that would be a good idea Mr Linden... your best course of action would be to catch the next flight home and leave this to the professionals."
"Thanks for the lift Barry." Colby said, the sarcasm drifting over Barry's head. He got out of the car and watched the Mini Cooper ease back into the traffic.
He checked his watch, not even nine yet but he had already made a monumental stuff up. It was an hour earlier in London, but Jane would no doubt be at her desk by now. He made his way to his room and punched in the number for Equis.
"Come on, come on pick up..."
"Good morning Equis security. Marianne Glover speaking, how may I help you?"
Colby had a soft spot for Marianne. Married with two children, disarmingly friendly, astonishing memory for names, efficient in her job. A good decent woman; Charles Glover was a lucky man...
"Hi Marianne... could I speak with Jane Freeman... It's Colby Linden."
"Colby, good to hear from you... How's it going over there?"
"I'm sorry Marianne, this really is quite urgent..."
"OK putting you through..."
He was kept waiting maybe 30 seconds before Jane picked up her phone. Those seconds were extra long, stretched in harmony with Colby's sense of impending doom. As he waited with the phone pressed hard against his ear, he seemed to fall again into the gloom of that oppressive Saudi day that would not leave him in peace.
"Colby... I'm guessing you have a problem..."