‘Wait,’ Eddie said. ‘The second SUV had more guys in it, didn’t it?’
‘Four in the first, five in the second, yes.’
‘We should follow that one. Even when you use decoys, you still need bodyguards, plus the client. And I don’t think Mukobo’d short-staff his own protection.’
Brice spoke into the walkie-talkie. ‘Follow the first vehicle. We’ll take the second.’
‘What? Oh, for…’ Eddie said, exasperated. ‘I know what I’m bloody doing! Mukobo’s in the second car — and now we’ll be outnumbered!’
‘I can’t take the chance that you’re wrong,’ Brice replied. He guided the Peugeot after the second SUV as the Land Rover continued onwards. ‘We need to cover both vehicles.’
‘What’s the point of me being here if you’re not going to listen?’
‘I’ll say it again, Chase: the only reason you’re here is to identify Mukobo. Just shut up and do what I tell you.’
‘Arsehole,’ Eddie growled, immediately annoyed with himself for breaking his own promise. ‘Was that British enough for you?’
Brice glowered at him in the mirror, then returned his attention to the road. The highway came into view ahead, but the Suburban’s destination was closer. ‘Are they going shopping?’ said Alderley, incredulous, as it entered a mall’s car park.
‘Mukobo must be wanting to buy a handbag,’ Eddie joked.
Brice drew in after the Chevrolet, keeping his distance. It took a handicapped space near the entrance. He continued past it, stopping a couple of rows away. The three Englishmen watched as the Suburban’s occupants emerged. ‘Is Mukobo with them?’
Eddie squinted into the bright sunlight. ‘Can’t tell.’ All five men were facing away from him as they crossed the parking lot.
‘We’ll have to follow them. Don’t get too close, Chase,’ Brice warned as they got out. ‘You remember him — so he might remember you.’
‘How close did you get to him when you met?’ Alderley asked.
Eddie held his hands a foot apart. ‘About this close.’
‘Ah. So he will remember you, then.’
‘I dunno, I had more hair then.’ He grinned, then regarded the shopping centre. It was fronted by a large wooden portico in an ersatz-Asian style, the name Siam Mall emblazoned across it. The five men went inside.
‘We can’t lose them,’ said Brice. He made a call. ‘Snatch team, we’re at the Siam Mall. Will advise if we locate Mukobo.’
The mall’s interior was considerably cooler than outside. A large supermarket was on the left, smaller shops to the right, but the men they were tracking were ascending an escalator directly ahead. The rearmost of the group turned to survey the scene behind him. ‘He’s not Mukobo,’ Eddie said. ‘So he’s one of the other four.’
‘If he’s here at all,’ said Brice. They started up the escalator. A breeze blew in from above, the top floor only under partial cover. There were a couple of shoppers between them and the rear guard, whose mirrored gaze remained fixed on those below — until he looked around as a line of fountains on the ground floor gushed to life. The distracted man smiled at the sight.
Eddie pretended to watch the aquatic display as the escalator carried its passengers higher. The five men reached the top and headed left. When their three tails arrived at the upper floor, Brice went right, going back around the escalators towards the mall’s front. Alderley and Eddie trailed him, surreptitiously watching their targets move out into bright sunshine.
A display of several Hyundai cars had been set up beneath the canopy. Eddie pretended to examine a Santa Fe SUV. ‘You need to call the other car in.’
‘We still don’t know if Mukobo’s one of them.’ Brice waited until the last man passed out of sight behind a shop, then followed.
Eddie waved away an over-attentive salesman and went after him, Alderley in his wake. ‘I know I’m just some stupid squaddie and you’re an Oxbridge super-spy, but trust me, he’s here.’
‘I need proof, not instinct.’ Brice halted at the shop’s corner. In the far corner of a broad terrace were several gazebos, covered outdoor seating for a restaurant. The five men headed for them. A figure waved from one of the shelters. ‘They’re meeting someone.’
‘Must be Provone,’ said Alderley.
‘Provone’s got mates with him,’ Eddie observed, seeing other figures within the gazebo. The intense sunlight reduced them to silhouettes. ‘Bodyguards?’
‘Probably. I doubt he trusts Mukobo any more than Mukobo trusts him.’
The Yorkshireman glanced back towards the escalators. The mall was not busy, but there were still shoppers milling about. ‘I don’t like this. If something kicks off here, civvies’re gonna get hurt. Call your boys in so they can pick up Mukobo once he’s back outside.’
‘For the last time,’ Brice snapped, ‘we aren’t going to do anything until we confirm that Mukobo is here. All right?’
‘Okay, then,’ said Eddie, looking into the shop, ‘I’ll get you confirmation. Alderley, you got money?’
‘Er, yes?’ said Alderley, surprised.
‘Good. Give me fifty euros.’
‘Why?’
‘So I can buy a bloody lottery ticket. Just give it to me!’ He held out a hand, waiting until the older man reluctantly produced a banknote, then snatched it from him and entered the shop.
Two minutes later, he emerged again. Brice stared at him with wordless contempt. ‘Oh, God,’ sighed Alderley.
‘What?’ Eddie protested. ‘It’s the perfect disguise. No undercover cop’d wear this. Or spy.’
‘No sane human would wear that.’ The Yorkshireman had donned a wide-brimmed fabric sun hat emblazoned with images of SpongeBob SquarePants, a Hawaiian shirt exploding in rainbow colours and a pair of oversized sunglasses with bright cyan frames. ‘You look like… like Elton John vomiting a packet of Skittles.’
‘So, a tourist.’ He took out his phone. ‘Okay, I’ll be right back — and I’ll have your confirmation,’ he told Brice as he started towards the tents.
‘Er… my change?’ Alderley asked hopefully.
Eddie ignored him, keeping his eyes fixed on the silhouetted figures. Mukobo — he was certain the warlord was here — and his bodyguards were with another four men, one from each group standing to keep watch on the mall. Mirror shades turned towards him, but he kept going, heading for the terrace’s edge. Both guards lost interest, dismissing him as a harmless tourist.
Relieved, Eddie held up his phone and slowly turned, pretending to take a panoramic photo of Playa de las Américas and the blue Atlantic beyond. From here, he could see more in the gazebo’s shadows. A Caucasian man — he assumed Provone — was talking, gesticulating with Mediterranean flourish. An open briefcase sat on the table. He still couldn’t tell which of Provone’s guests was Mukobo, though.
The wind flapped at his hat. That gave him an excuse to turn away and face the gazebos directly as he secured his headgear. He regarded the seated men over his sunglasses. The farthest away was definitely not Mukobo, his face the wrong shape. The two nearest were too young, and too tall. That left…
Provone took a large white envelope from the briefcase and handed it to the fourth man. Sunlight glaring off a wall behind him briefly reflected from the pristine paper, illuminating his face—
Eddie felt a small shock of recognition. Over a decade had passed since their meeting, and the Congolese warlord was now more hard-featured, but it was definitely Philippe Mukobo.
Confirmation.
He pocketed his phone and started back towards the shops. A sidelong glance at the gazebo as he passed…