‘Well, I suspect it is Rafi he’s after. Who has had their face plastered over the papers recently? And who, according to the news coverage, helped the police and messed up the terrorists’ plans, robbing them of their multibillion payout?’
‘OK, I get your line of thinking. But no one knows where we’re going – or do they?’
‘No, you’re right, but better safe than sorry.’
‘Do you have any leads on where Popovskaya might be?’
‘We have one long shot which we’re following up. Colonel Matlik and his Russian contacts have sent us details of all the other mercenaries that they have on their most wanted list. We have distributed the photos and names to all airports and ports, just in case one of them comes over to help Popovskaya. The new face recognition and gait assessment software at Heathrow airport has picked up a potential match. A brute of a man travelling on a Polish passport arrived there from Budapest an hour and a half ago. He has an uncanny resemblance to a former Chechen army officer, Radu Dranoff, and is on the list we have just received. We gave his and several other passengers’ luggage a spot check, and at the same time picked up his mobile phone number. I have a team tracking his mobile phone calls and his movements. At the moment he is on a coach heading for Oxford. I have got another call… Must go. Do please keep in contact.’
‘Will do and thanks for the call.’ Kate flicked off her phone. They sat in silence until they arrived at the service station just after Swindon.
‘Well, what a way to start our holiday!’ said Rafi who looked across at Kate’s strained face.
‘You know what our problem is?’
‘No,’ he replied.
‘You and I have become too hot a story. One sniff of us being in Cornwall and the flaming paparazzi will be all over us like locusts. Hey presto, within less than twenty-four hours the terrorists will know where we are.’
Rafi nodded. ‘Well, at least Jeremy has a lead and the new Chechen arrival is probably only here to get Popovskaya safely out of the UK.’
‘I hope you are right. Do you know what I love about you, Rafi? It’s your optimism.’ Kate leant across and gave him a peck on the cheek. ‘Come on, my tummy is rumbling. I need to keep my energy levels up for all the exercise we’re going to take in Cornwall.’
They chose their food in the cafeteria, Rafi pulled out his wallet and paid at the till. Then he noticed that in amongst his other banknotes was a damaged?20 note which hadn’t been there when he had last looked. Attached to it was a Post-it with a scribbled message: ‘You might like to frame this as a souvenir!’ It was signed by Jeremy. Rafi smiled to himself.
Breakfast was far better than he’d imagined. Kate tucked into a full English breakfast. He looked across at her slender frame and wondered where she managed to put all that food. She scowled as she caught him staring.
‘I wish I had your metabolism,’ he chuckled.
‘Is that why you were staring? What a disappointment – I thought you were ogling!’
The journey was uneventful but then, thirty miles from Newquay, Jeremy phoned again.
‘Hi guys!’ He sounded upbeat. ‘I’ve got some news for you. Our Chechen with the Polish passport received a phone call half an hour ago. It was from a mobile phone which we’ve traced to outside Lancaster, which is near where we had Popovskaya in a secure hospital unit. Putting two and two together we think that our two Chechen mercenaries are on their way to meet up. Thought you might like to know. I’ve sent a fax with their details to the hotel. I’ll keep you posted. Goodbye.’
It had been a one-sided phone call as Kate hadn’t been able to get a word in. Jeremy had sounded upbeat, but both Kate and Rafi felt it had been an act. She put her hand on Rafi’s knee. ‘Even if we jump to the conclusion that they are after you, at least we’ll have one, maybe two days before they’ll know where we are. Jeremy and his team will look after us; don’t worry.’
Rafi sat staring out of the window.
Kate looked subdued. ‘This is no way to start a relationship. Let’s chill out for the next couple of days and I promise you, Jeremy will keep an eye on our backs. If you want to start worrying, save it until after the paparazzi have found us. Then we’ll both be in the frame.’
Rafi looked into Kate’s eyes and at her lovely face. ‘I’d hoped to leave the nightmares behind. But at least I’ve got you with me. I agree. No worrying until our whereabouts are common knowledge.’
For the last half-hour of the journey they played a game, trying to guess what the hotel would be like. They knew it stood on its own headland and overlooked a long, sandy bay.
‘You’re a pessimist,’ concluded Rafi.
‘Yes, but with low expectations things must get better.’
‘Is that why you decided on me as your new boyfriend?’
‘Of course, how much worse could it have got? A man locked up as a suspect in a terrorism case, uncooperative and with a useless wrist to boot. Plus, smelly – no, really smelly – unkempt, and that’s just for starters.’ They laughed and the mood in the car became lighter.
In contrast, outside the weather had turned foul. They followed the signs to Fistral Beach, drove past a windswept golf club and there in front of them was the Headland Hotel, an imposing Victorian-style red brick building, overlooking the Atlantic Ocean and the surfers’ paradise, Fistral Bay. Its long driveway went through its own small golf course.
The strength of the wind was driving the rain horizontally. Kate drew her car up near the front door and they sat for a while looking at the heavy rain. She looked at Rafi with a grin. ‘Where did we put the overcoats?’
He smiled. ‘In the boot, of course!’
‘Will we get more soaked making a dash for the front door, or getting our coats out of the boot?’
‘I have a better idea.’ He picked up Kate’s phone and dialled a number. When he got through he asked whoever was on the other end of the line, ‘Would you by any chance have a spare umbrella or two? We’re stuck ten metres away from your front door and we…’
A friendly voice interrupted him. ‘It is rather nasty outside. I’ll get the porter to come and help you in.’
Wielding a large umbrella in high winds and driving rain was a skill that Rafi hadn’t considered until then. They were ferried one at a time into the hotel. Kate went first and Rafi followed, wet at the edges but not soaked.
He walked into the reception area. Kate was standing in front of a roaring open fire. She was beaming.
‘This is just brilliant. I think I’m going to like it here.’
To his surprise she bounced over and flung her arms around his neck, giving him a kiss that was more appropriate to the privacy of one’s own room. Kate finished her show of affection and drew back, noticing that Rafi had started to blush.
‘Oops, I seem to get a bit carried away at times,’ she said to no one in particular. The hotel was busy for off-season February. Rafi wondered if, like the Savoy, it had also taken more than its fair share of those left homeless.
At the reception desk they were greeted by an attentive receptionist who arranged for their luggage to be taken up to their room. Next to their key was Jeremy’s fax. It contained mug shots of Radu Dranoff and Aslan Popovskaya. Rafi studied Kate’s serious face as she read it. She then passed the fax to him. The three pages of information made disconcerting reading. Popovskaya was made of stern stuff. In his fall from the scaffolding tower he had fractured his left collar bone and broken his left wrist and arm in several places. And now he and Dranoff were on the loose, most likely after them.
‘Shame that Popovskaya is right handed…’ Kate was politely interrupted by the receptionist.
‘We’ve filled up since last week. Please forgive us if the service is a little slower than normal. We’ve managed to find you a comfortable bedroom, though.’
Rafi took the key and, holding Kate’s hand walked across to the small lift. They got out on the second floor. The corridor leading to the room was spacious and newly carpeted. Kate squeezed Rafi’s hand in anticipation as they stood in front of the door. He opened it and they walked in. In front of them was a modest-sized sitting room with stunning views over the long sandy beach and the ocean. A large arrangement of flowers on the side table added to the welcoming atmosphere.