Breaking Cover

49

Peggy came in very early the next day and joined Liz in her office. ‘I hope you weren’t here all night,’ she said.

‘Not quite. I did go home.’ Liz didn’t say that it had been at two in the morning. She’d managed to nap for a couple of hours but was up again at five and here at Thames House by six. ‘How’s that feeling?’ she asked, pointing at the sling on Peggy’s left arm.

‘Not bad. It’s only when I forget about it and knock something that it hurts.’

‘Did you get anything on the Mercedes?’ Liz asked.

‘Yes, it’s registered to a private company. I’ve sent an enquiry to Companies House, but they haven’t come back to me yet. They’re probably still in bed. I’ve also got some news on the phone number Hansen gave to the pub – it’s a pay-as-you-go, bought three months ago in Manchester. I should have the list of calls from and to it later this morning. And of course, if he’s used it since last night we should be able to get a fix on him, but I don’t suppose he’s stupid enough for that.’

‘No. So far he’s been very professional. That car swap at the pub was clever.’

‘Do you think he saw A4 yesterday? Do you think he knows we’re on to him?’

‘Not sure,’ replied Liz. ‘Wally Woods doesn’t think so. Let’s hope he’s right.’

Peggy stifled a small yawn, and blushed slightly when Liz smiled. ‘What’s going on up there now?’ Peggy asked.

‘I’ve just had a report from Wally. Yesterday’s teams are holed up in a Travelodge south of Manchester, getting some rest; a new team was sent out from the city as soon as we got the Number Plate Recognition information and they’ve been scouring around the area near Sale, where he disappeared, all night, but no sign of the car so far. They’ve passed the number to Greater Manchester Police, but no reaction from them either.’

‘Let’s have a look at a map,’ said Peggy. ‘I’m not sure where Sale is.’ She tapped a screen. ‘Just off the Manchester ring road, apparently. On the south side.’

‘Gosh,’ she added, as a satellite photo of the area came up on her screen. She turned the computer sideways so they could both study it more easily. ‘It looks a rather unpromising place to drive to late at night. Especially with all that complicated counter-surveillance. What on earth can he be doing up there?’

‘Well, if he is a Russian Illegal and not a Norwegian banker at all – and given his behaviour that seems increasingly likely – and if we are looking at this pincer operation, then we need to think what connection the Russians have with that part of the North of England.’

Peggy pointed at the screen. ‘There’s the airport not far away. Maybe he was going there.’

‘Or…’ said Liz slowly, now peering at the screen as well. ‘Look, there… Altrincham. That’s where that oligarch Patricov has his mansion. I went to see it with the Chief Constable.’

‘You don’t think he could have anything to do with it, do you? I thought he was anti-Putin.’

‘That’s what I was told. But you never know. It’s the only Russian connection I’ve heard of in that area. I’m sure if there was anyone else Russian in the neighbourhood, the Chief Constable would have mentioned it. I’m going to ring him.’

Liz reached the police switchboard in Manchester, and was put through straightaway. She was impressed; not many Chief Constables answered their own phone, especially this early in the day.

‘Pearson,’ he said quietly.

‘Hello, it’s Liz Carlyle in Thames House.’

‘Ha! I was thinking about you just the other day. How are things?’

‘I’m fine, but something’s come up. It’s to do with Patricov.’

‘I hope you’ve found out more about him than we have. He’s a careful bird, our Mr P.’

‘It’s not him I want to ask about. We have someone under surveillance here in London – a banker by the name of Hansen. He’s Norwegian, or at least his papers all say he’s Norwegian.

‘Anyway, we followed him yesterday when he drove out of London. I don’t think he spotted our teams, but he went through pretty complicated counter-surveillance. Either he’s a pro, or he’s leading two lives that he’s determined to keep separate.’ She explained about the car switch that A4 had discovered. ‘We’ve checked the Mercedes he drove off in; it’s registered to something called Asimov Holdings. We’re trying to run down details on the company right now, but it’s private and it’s taking us a while.’

‘Sounds Russian.’

‘I know. Here’s the other thing: when we last spotted the car it was on the Manchester Ring Road near Sale. Then we lost it. It must have turned off. Looking at the map, we’ve noticed that Sale is very near Altrincham and I remembered that that’s where Patricov’s place is. It’s a long shot but I just wondered whether there could possibly be a connection. We’ve still got A4 teams up there scouting around but they’ve found no sign of him, and your traffic people have seen nothing of the car, so the trail’s gone a bit cold by now. I just wondered if your contact there… Reilly, I think it was… could check to see if by any chance the car went in to the grounds at Patricov’s mansion. Could you help?’

‘Of course. I’ll get straight on to Reilly. Just give me the number plate. He’ll know if the car’s there and if it belongs to Patricov.’

‘If it is there, could he let us know who drove it in last night? That would be a big help.’

As soon as Liz had put the receiver down, the phone rang. It was Wally Woods. There had been no sightings of the Mercedes and he wanted to pull the teams off as they had a counter-terrorist job up there that needed all available resources. The police were still on the alert for the Mercedes but he didn’t think there was much more the A4 teams could usefully do on Liz’s job unless anything new came up. With a sinking feeling Liz agreed they could stand down. If nothing came from the Patricov lead, they were back to square one and would have to start again from scratch in London.

Liz found it difficult to settle to anything else while she waited for Pearson to come back. She noticed too that Peggy was not her usual bright self. In fact, she looked rather depressed. ‘You all right?’ she asked.

Peggy nodded unconvincingly and Liz said, ‘Sit down. Is it Tim?’

After a moment Peggy replied, ‘Somehow it seemed to be easier to cope when he was being aggressive and hostile than now when he’s being all contrite and miserable.’

Liz smiled. ‘Yes, but you must feel relieved. At least Tim hasn’t done anything illegal. He’s just been a bit naïve.’

‘I’ll say,’ said Peggy crossly. ‘Of course I’m pleased he’s not in trouble. But he doesn’t come out of this very well. It’s not as if he rebuffed this Marina creature; she just seems to have realised he didn’t know anything of value and dropped him. He’s been a complete ass.’

Just then the phone rang. It was Pearson, calling back. Liz put him on loudspeaker so Peggy could hear. He sounded puzzled. ‘Hello, Liz, I’ve talked to Reilly; he was on duty yesterday. He says the Mercedes did arrive, late in the evening, and it’s still there. It belongs to the estate. But your Hansen wasn’t the driver. No one new has entered the compound.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Reilly is. The only people who’ve come in are the guards, changing shifts – the same ones as usual; the housekeeper; and Patricov’s sidekick, the Russian called Karpis. If you remember, you and I didn’t meet him when we visited. He was out.’

Liz tried to make sense of this. Could A4 have goofed about the car? It didn’t seem likely; they were always extremely careful. Perhaps after it had last been spotted, near Sale, there had been another switch, and for some reason Karpis had taken the car back to Patricov’s compound.

She looked at Peggy, who shrugged, equally mystified. Liz didn’t believe this could be a simple mistake. ‘Is there CCTV coverage of the entrance to the estate?’

‘Absolutely. Reilly’s looked at it, just to make sure somebody hadn’t somehow slipped in. Nobody has.’

‘Could you send me a photograph of anybody who’s driven the Mercedes in the last twenty-four hours?’

‘I’m sure that’s possible, though Reilly’s already said he only has film of Karpis with the Mercedes. But I’ll ring him again and see what he can do. Oh, and by the way, that company you mentioned is the holding company for the Patricov business.’ He rang off and Peggy and Liz looked at each other, completely bemused.

For fifteen minutes they discussed possible solutions to the mystery. Then Liz’s desktop pinged with the arrival of a new email. Liz glanced at the screen and sat up. ‘It’s from Pearson.’

She clicked on the email then opened its attachment – a video clip, labelled ‘Karpis’ at the bottom, showing a tall man dressed in a blazer and slacks, standing up as he got out of the Mercedes’s driving seat. His back was to the camera. Liz swung the screen towards Peggy and they both watched as the man approached the mansion’s front door. As he began to climb the stone steps he was picked up by a camera looking down from above the front door. It showed his face clearly. Liz and Peggy spoke together.

‘But…’ said Liz.

‘Isn’t that Laurenz?’ said Peggy.

‘Yes, that’s Hansen,’ said Liz.

‘But why are they calling him Karpis?’ said Peggy.

‘Don’t you see?’ said Liz, her voice shaking with excitement as she pointed at the screen. ‘Laurenz Hansen is Karpis.’