29

Carver closed the laptop and leaned back in his chair, staring blankly at the ceiling. He thought about the name Pablo, and the people who knew its significance for him. He took another look at all the phrases used to describe a man whose identifying features were so similar to his own. He checked the date the story gave for that night at the Karama Pearl Hotel. It was a few days before he did the job at Lusterleaf, the job that he could not mention to anyone, and would be denied by anyone and everyone close to the President. Not that it would make any difference what Bahr or even Lincoln Roberts himself might say. When the mysterious Pablo had been in Dubai, Carver had been deep undercover, living off the grid, leaving no trace of his presence anywhere… and thus creating no alibi.

Maybe it was all pure chance. But Carver didn't think so, and nor would other people who knew him and would immediately link him to Pablo. He was being framed for another man's hit. It struck Carver that the corny old bumper stickers had got it right. Just because he was paranoid didn't mean someone, somewhere, wasn't out to get him.

He needed someone to talk to. He called Thor Larsson in Oslo and told him what was going on. 'Am I going crazy here? That whole Pablo thing, I don't know, maybe it's just coincidence.'

Larsson was his normal, unflappable, Scandinavian self. 'It's got to be. Look at the odds. How many people call you by that nickname any more, or even know about it? And how many Pablos are there in the world? Picasso, Escobar… and lots more no one's ever heard of. It could be any of them.'

'But what if someone really is copying me? That's not good.'

'What's that saying you have in England?' Larsson asked. 'Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery? Take it as a compliment. You're so good at your job that people want to make cheap copies, like a Rolex watch or a Louis Vuitton handbag.'

'Thanks, that's a big reassurance,' said Carver with a humourless chuckle. 'I'm being set up. There are policemen in Dubai pretty much saying they want to kill me.'

Larsson seemed untroubled by the threat to his friend's life: 'But you're not going to Dubai. You're coming to Oslo. We'll chill out and let this all blow over. Look on the bright side. At least you'll be free of this crap soon. I'm getting married for ever.'

'Ha! Let me tell you, if I had to choose between a lifetime with Karin or a single meeting with that Middle Eastern copper, I'm taking the gorgeous Norwegian blonde every time. Believe me, Thor, it's only my deep respect for you as a mate that's stopped me nicking her off you already.'

'You wouldn't stand a chance,' said Larsson confidently. 'You can't whisper dirty Norwegian words in her ear the way I can. Anyway, why do you need to steal anyone's girl? I thought you had a new one of your own.'

'That's true, I do. In fact, I was going to ask you, is it all right if I bring her with me to the wedding?'

Larsson's enthusiasm seemed to vanish in an instant: 'Er… yeah, sure, I don't see why not.'

'You don't sound very keen on the idea,' said Carver.

'No, no, I am… I was just surprised, I think. I didn't know you were so serious about her. But hey, that's good, you need someone new. Now come on, you haven't even told me her name.'

'Maddy. Maddy Cross.'

'And I suppose she looks like some kind of model or movie-star or something.'

Now Carver's laugh was entirely genuine. 'I think she's pretty stunning, yeah.'

'Then bring her to Oslo and I'll tell you if you're right.'

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