Red Notice

97

The tightness of Delphine’s bonds had cut off some of the circulation to her legs, and she gasped as her capillaries started to refill with oxygenated blood. The driver remained curled up on the floor, having tried his best to get his body as far under the control panel as he could, as if he was pulling a duvet over his head and hoping this was all just a nightmare he’d wake up from.

Her eyes were still glued to the Omega on Laszlo’s wrist.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It was Tom’s. He was responsible for my own being damaged, so it seemed only fair…’

He slipped the watch off his wrist and showed her the engraving on the back of its case. ‘BU… And a lovely winged dagger.’ He smiled. ‘Vanity is a terrible burden, isn’t it, Delphine? Really, I thought your Mr Buckingham would have been beyond this sort of thing.’

He turned back to the radio mic and switched on the speaker. ‘Mr Woolf, it is time for you and me to converse once more.’

A voice crackled back over the speaker. ‘What do you want, Antonov?’

Woolf clearly thought the time for diplomacy was over, that the situation was far too advanced now for anything but an exchange of cold, hard facts.

But Laszlo didn’t see it entirely that way. He still wanted to play a little. Why not, when he so obviously had the upper hand? ‘Well, for a start, I think it would be a nice gesture if those fools at COBRA stopped sending their people in to try and kill me. It’s really not helping.’

Woolf didn’t bite. Laszlo thought he heard the sound of a pencil on paper. So that was how the MI5 man kept himself under control.

‘You left them with no other choice, right from the moment you started killing hostages.’

‘Believe me, I do see your point, Mr Woolf.’ Laszlo was enjoying himself immensely. ‘But if you had not been so impatient, you could have congratulated me on releasing so many hostages. They should be with you quite soon, hundreds of them, though I think some ran towards France. Maybe they’re still hoping to make their appointments. I will give you thirty seconds to make sure a reception is organized for them.’

While Laszlo waited, he produced a taped and modified handheld VHF radio from the desert-tan grab bag that had never left his shoulder.

Woolf took no more than twenty seconds. ‘Thank you for their release. But I know it’s because you don’t need them any more. They must just have been getting in the way. You have a device on the pipeline now. You have traded up. What do you plan to do with it? Is it just leverage? Or are you really going to try and destroy the tunnel?’

‘Mr Woolf, I feel the tone of our conversation has deteriorated somewhat. You were once so… congenial. Perhaps we would both benefit from the services of a suitable mediator. I think I have found the perfect woman for the job. Introducing a real person into the mixture will serve to remind you all that there is a matter of common humanity to consider. Sometimes these people become little more than statistics as we each move forward with our own game plans.’

Laszlo turned to Delphine. He held the radio mic up close to her mouth. ‘Say hello.’

‘Fuck off.’

‘I do hope our conversation isn’t being broadcast to the nation.’ Laszlo wiped her saliva once more from his face. ‘It would be a shocking example to set. I’m afraid this young lady’s vocabulary leaves a lot to be desired. But she has had a very exhausting day.’

Laszlo held the device inches from Delphine’s face. ‘What would you say I was holding in my hand?’

She didn’t answer. Perhaps she didn’t know.

‘Mr Woolf, the item she is refusing to describe to you is the initiator for the pipeline charge. I built it myself. It has no need for re-broadcasters in the tunnel, and of course will defeat your electronic countermeasures. I am extremely proud of it.’

‘Get to the point, Antonov.’

Laszlo nodded to himself, with some satisfaction. ‘Well, simply put, if you attempt to launch another attack, I will detonate the device. If you do not meet my revised demands, I will detonate the device.’ He paused. ‘In fact, to distil the situation completely, Mr Woolf, if you disobey me or deviate from my instructions in any way at all, I will… well, I’m sure you can complete the sentence.’

‘And what are these revised demands?’ Woolf was still trying to sound calm, but Laszlo could hear his vocal cords tightening with stress. His voice had risen half an octave. Laszlo liked that.

‘My price has now doubled, to three hundred kilos of gold.’ He pulled a folded sheet of paper from the grab bag and moved closer to Delphine. She moved away an inch. There was nowhere to go.

Laszlo cut the comms to the hangar. ‘Perhaps you’d like to read Mr Woolf the detailed list of my requirements. If you do, I’ll have Tom brought to you. He’s alive.’

Laszlo didn’t get the reaction he was expecting. Instead, she launched an even angrier mouthful of spit onto his face.

Laszlo merely wiped it away again, with the back of his hand. ‘Now, Delphine, just read what’s written on the paper to Mr Woolf, and you will be reunited with the father of your child.’ He handed her the sheet. ‘Nothing more — but nothing less, either.’

He held Delphine’s stare. ‘Young woman, put aside your hatred and pride. In our world, these wild emotions only get people killed. This is not about you. It’s about all those people who are still with us, wanting so desperately to survive.’

Delphine’s eyes broadcast her feelings for a moment or two longer, then she dropped her gaze. Laszlo turned on the comms and she started to read.

‘The Eurostar, along with the remaining hostages, will be driven back to Folkestone. No barricades or other obstructions are to be placed on the tracks. The Chinook will be positioned twenty metres from the track, at the mouth of the tunnel. Air space is to be cleared of all air traffic in a twenty-kilometre radius from that point, in all directions.’

Laszlo glanced at the Omega and retrieved the mic from Delphine. ‘Thank you. Mr Woolf. You now have ninety minutes.’ He switched off the comms system.

The train driver still lay face down on the floor, but he was no longer a picture of defeat. He knew at last why he had been held for so long on his own. Laszlo turned him over with the toe of his boot. ‘Very soon you will be resuming your normal duties. But, as you may have gathered, there has been a slight change of plan. We will be returning to Folkestone. So now you must make your way to the other engine and carry out whatever preparations you need to.

‘One of my men will be with you at all times. If you do exactly as you are told, you will live to tell your grandchildren the story of what happened to you today. If not, there will be one more body lying at the side of the track.’

Laszlo kicked open the compartment door. One of his men responded to the signal and escorted the driver away. The next moment, Tom’s semi-conscious body was dumped at Delphine’s feet. She gave a small cry and dropped on her knees to comfort him. His clothes were covered with dirt and oil; his face was cross-hatched with cuts and bruises and bullet fragments. One eye was half closed by a livid red swelling, and his lips were swollen and split. The makeshift sweatshirt dressing around his left thigh was stained with blood. It had dried to a dull brown at the edges, but was still a dark, liquid crimson at the centre.

Delphine didn’t know how to help, what to soothe. All she could do was gaze down at him, horrified. ‘Tom… Tom…’

He looked like a drowning man, fighting his way to the surface. He managed, finally, to open one bloodshot eye and give her the ghost of a wink. His lips moved. He seemed to be trying to say something to her, in the faintest of whispers.

She leaned closer, her ear inches away from his mouth. She felt his breath on her cheek.

‘You… OK…?’

‘She’s fine.’ Laszlo squatted beside them. ‘Though, as you can see, she’s a little tongue-tied at the moment. Still, no permanent harm done and, by the way, I’m sure she’ll make a very good mother to your child when the time comes. I have an instinct for these things.’

‘Why are we still alive?’ Tom mumbled. His words were still barely audible. A thread of saliva fell from the corner of his hideously damaged mouth.

Laszlo tutted. ‘All those blows to the head must be affecting your brain, Tom. I’d have thought the answer was blindingly obvious. It’s because I like you both. I admire you for the way you have conducted yourselves during our time together and maybe, just maybe, I am a little envious. Your commitment to each other is quite inspiring, in its touchingly bourgeois way.’

He stood and headed for the door. ‘And, of course, because you are going to help me escape.’