The Geneva Trap

Chapter 28

‘What did you say?’ asked Liz, looking up from her plate.

Martin said with a smile, ‘I was asking if you’d like some cheese.’

‘I’m sorry. I was thinking about something else.’

‘I can see that. Do you want to talk about it?’

Normally conversation flowed easily when they were together but tonight Liz couldn’t prevent her mind from drifting back to Switzerland. She’d come straight on from there to Paris to spend the weekend with Martin but she was finding it impossible to relax. She was disappointed that the French had lost Kubiak in Marseilles, when it had seemed that they were so near to finding out what business he had there.

And underneath that worry was a continuous mixture of guilt and anxiety about what might be happening to Alexander Sorsky. Liz couldn’t help going over her meetings with the Russian, replaying everything he’d said.

She didn’t want to explain all this to Martin. He would have understood, of course, being in the same business himself, but they normally avoided talking shop, unless, as occasionally happened, they found themselves working on two ends of the same case.

He laughed. ‘I can see you don’t want to talk about it, so let me tell you my news. My old friend Milraud has been spotted back in France with his wife. I’m going down to Toulon this week to see if they’ve shown up at the shop there or their house in Bandol. Milraud’s too clever to do something so obvious, so I’m not very hopeful, but I need to check it out.’ Liz nodded. She knew Martin would never rest until he had caught his former colleague from the DGSE, who had resigned and set himself up as an arms dealer. A crooked arms dealer, in fact, who now had an Interpol warrant over his head.

‘That’s not all,’ Martin continued. ‘I spoke to Isobel Florian about the anarchists Edward’s daughter has got herself mixed up with. Isobel already knows about them – they’ve been involved in various anti-Capitalist protests. There’s concern they’ll try and disrupt a G20 meeting in Avignon next month; Isobel says they’ve got some violent people in their midst, so she’s taking the threat seriously. The DCRI office in the South has managed to put an agent in, and Isobel is going down to Cahors this week to meet him and his handler. If I’m finished at Toulon in time, I’m going to drive up and join them.’

‘That’s really kind of you. I hope it’s not a waste of your time.’

‘Don’t worry. It’s never a waste of time to keep in touch with the DCRI. I’ll need their help if I’m ever to catch Milraud.’

‘Talking about the DCRI in the South, are they a good outfit? Their surveillance lost a target in Marseilles I wanted followed.’

‘Is that what’s been bothering you?’

‘Partly.’ And she explained about the contact with Sorsky, and how Kubiak, the Russian Head of Security in Geneva, had been identified as the source of the information Sorsky had given her. ‘Apparently he visits Marseilles quite regularly, and we need to know what he’s doing there. I think it could be important. But the surveillance lost him, so we’re none the wiser.’

Martin thought for a moment. ‘Well, as I said, I’ll be in Toulon this week and Marseilles is only a few miles up the coast. If you think it would be useful, I could go and have a word with them and find out what happened. I’d want to ask Isobel first, but I don’t think she’d object.’

‘Could you? I got the impression that they weren’t taking it too seriously. If you could lean on them a bit, to find out what Kubiak’s doing down there, it would be a huge help. Whatever he’s up to, I can’t imagine it’s in France’s interests any more than ours.’

‘Of course. I’ll make that very clear to the DCRI in Marseilles.’

He walked over to the windows and started drawing the curtains. Outside dusk had turned to dark, the boules players in the square across the road had gone home, and lights were now turned on in the houses further down the street. He said, ‘Is there any other business to discuss?’

‘I hope not. As far as I’m concerned I’d rather talk about anything else for the rest of the weekend.’

‘I’ll hold you to that. I don’t think all this shop talk is good for either of us. Tomorrow I thought we might do something different for a change.’ There was a glint in his eyes.

‘Oh?’

‘Yes. The races are on at Longchamp.’

‘You mean, the horses?’

‘I don’t mean Formula One.’ He made a noise like a buzzing fly, and Liz laughed. Martin said, ‘I can think of nothing more boring than watching cars go round and round a track at three hundred kilometres an hour. Not when you have animals as beautiful as thoroughbreds to watch.’

‘I didn’t know you liked horses.’

‘I do, provided I don’t have to ride one. Though I imagine as a native of the countryside, you like that sort of thing,’ he said teasingly.

‘Pony Club for seven years.’

‘And rosettes?’

‘One or two,’ she said.

‘Modest as always – I’ve seen dozens of them in your room at Susan’s house. Anyway, would you like to go tomorrow? It’s in the Bois de Boulogne – and very pretty.’

‘Absolutely. My father used to take me to the races at Newbury every year. Shall we have a flutter?’

‘That goes without saying. You are looking at one of France’s leading handicappers.’

‘Really?’ Liz asked with a smile.

‘No, not really,’ Martin said with mock sadness. ‘If I ever have to make a living another way, betting on horses would not be an intelligent choice. I might as well throw money up in the air.’

‘Ah, but tomorrow will be different. I’m feeling lucky.’

‘Good. Now, you’d better join me in an Armagnac.’