‘Forget the bloody Audi,’ Yoyo called out. ‘If we’re to have any chance at all, we need a skycab.’
‘I could order one,’ Jericho suggested.
‘Do that,’ Tu agreed. ‘We’ll be at the hotel in ten minutes.’
‘Your wish is my command.’
Jericho hung up and ran out to the corridor. As he dashed towards the lifts, he could see with his mind’s eye how the efficient German police would be unravelling the puzzle of their arrival, dauntless, dutiful and assuming the worst. He went up to the roof and found the skyport empty. A liveried hotel employee beamed at him from over the edge of his terminal. Jericho’s arrival seemed to give him a new purpose in life, stranded up here as he was on the lonely expanse of the roof.
‘Would you like to order an aircab?’ he asked.
‘Yes, that’s it.’
‘One moment, please.’ He slid his fingers busily across the console. ‘I could have one here for you in ten to fifteen minutes.’
‘As quick as you can!’
‘While you’re waiting, would you like any help with your lugg—’
The sentence probably ended with –age, but Jericho was back in the lift. He hurried to his room and shoved Diane into his rucksack with all the hardware. He packed whatever clothing lay around on top, checked and holstered his Glock, ran along the corridor and left a note for Tu:
I’m on the flight deck.
Charité Hospital, Institute of Forensic Pathology
‘No, he’s not,’ said the voice on the telephone.
Dr Marika Voss hopped from one foot to another, while Svenja Maas stood next to her, pale and wringing her hands.
‘Malchow,’ she repeated stubbornly. ‘Hel – ge Mal – chow.’
‘As I’ve already said—’
‘My colleague called him.’
‘That may well be, but—’
‘First she was held in a queue, then one of your switchboard staff put her through. To Malchow. To Hel—’
‘There’s no such person.’
‘But—’
‘Listen,’ said the voice, growing audibly less patient as the conversation went round and round in circles. ‘I would very much like to help you, but we have nobody of that name in the whole Foreign Office! And the extension number that you gave me doesn’t exist either!’
Dr Voss pressed her lips together indignantly. She’d known as much, ever since the automated dialling system had told her that there was no such number. Despite all this, she saw no reason to back down.
‘But the woman on the switchboard—’
‘Ah yes, the switchboard.’ A short pause, a sigh. ‘And what was the woman called?’
‘What was she called?’ Dr Voss hissed.
‘Something like Schill or Schall,’ Maas whispered, hunched over, miserable.
‘Schill or Schall, my colleague says.’
‘No.’
‘No?’
‘We do have a Scholl. Miss Scholl.’
‘Scholl?’ asked Dr Voss.
Maas shook her head. ‘It was Schill.’
‘It was Schill.’
‘I’m sorry. No Schill, no Schall, no Malchow. I really do advise you to call the police. Clearly you’ve been the butt of a very nasty joke.’
Dr Voss gave in. She thanked the civil servant in an icy tone, then called the number for the police. At her side, Svenja Maas wilted.
Within five minutes the case officers had tracked down the numberplate. Within seconds, they knew the name of the hire firm’s client. They compared that information with the records from immigration, and learned that Tu Tian had touched down in Berlin early the day before, giving the Grand Hyatt on Marlene-Dietrich-Platz as his address.
Two minutes after that, a team was dispatched to the hotel.
Grand Hyatt
Thanks to Tu’s dauntless driving, they reached the hotel sooner than they had expected, and with even more reason to get away again as quickly as they could – he must have chalked up dozens of traffic offences between the hospital at Turmstrasse and the hotel on Marlene-Dietrich-Platz. He got out, threw the keys to the concierge and asked him to take the car down to the underground parking.
‘Shall we go to the bar?’ Yoyo asked, loudly enough that the man couldn’t help but overhear it. Tu winked, understanding her plan, and picked up the charade.
‘To tell you the truth, I feel like something sweet.’
‘There’s a Starbucks in the Sony Center. Up the street.’
‘Great. See you there. I’ll just go tell Owen.’
It was vaudeville stuff of course, but it might buy them some time. They crossed the lobby as fast as they could without arousing suspicion, went up to the seventh floor and headed for their rooms.
‘Leave everything there that you don’t need,’ Tu called to her. ‘Bring only the bare essentials.’
‘Easy enough,’ Yoyo snorted. ‘I don’t have anything! You look after yourself, don’t waste time fussing with your suitcase.’
‘I don’t care about fashion, me.’
‘True enough, we’ll have to work on that. See you on the flight deck in two minutes.’
Seven floors below, Xin jumped out of the taxi. By now he knew what floor they were on, what room numbers, the only thing he didn’t know was who had which room. All the rooms were booked to Tu Technologies, and neither Yoyo nor Jericho were mentioned by name. He walked into the lobby in his full battledress. Hyatt staff and guests would certainly remember who had walked in at 15.30: a tall man, a striking figure with a flowing mane of red hair and a Genghis Khan moustache, probably some sort of artsy type. Holospecs hid the Asiatic cast of his eyes. He could easily be taken for European. The best disguise was to make yourself noticed.
He walked into a lift and pressed for the seventh floor.
Nothing happened.
Xin frowned, then spotted the thumbscan plate. Of course. The lift worked on authorisation only, as in most international hotels. He trotted obediently back into the lobby, where a contingent of his fellow-countrymen was just making their way to the reception desk. There was a sudden throng. The staff at the desk steeled themselves for the task of making sense of the new arrivals’ broken English, riddling out what they meant from what they said, and adding to the rich confusion with their own small store of Chinese words. Xin headed purposefully to the only receptionist who was busy with other tasks, in this case the telephone. He drew himself up to his full height and then wondered what on earth he could ask her.
How do I get up to the seventh floor?
Would you like to check in? – No, I have some friends staying here and I wanted to drop in on them. I can authorise you and then call them for you, to let them know you’re coming. Ahh, you know how it is, actually I wanted to surprise them. I understand! If you wait just a moment, I’ll ride up with you. It’s all a bit busy at the moment, as you see, but in a few minutes’ time… Can’t we be a bit quicker? – Well, you see, I’m not really supposed to – it’s really just guests who can—
Xin turned away. The whole thing was too complicated. He didn’t want to leave his thumbprint in the Hyatt’s system, any more than he wanted to risk Tu, Jericho or Yoyo being warned. He mingled in with the other Chinese.
Jericho saw the skycab lift over the Tiergarten park and make for the Hyatt, a muscular-looking VTOL with four turbines. It came in fast, dipped its jets with a hissing snarl and sank slowly down onto the landing pad.
‘Your taxi’s here,’ the hotel employee said, smiling, the joy in his voice announcing how wonderful it was that air transport was so widely available these days, and what a pleasure it was to see people use it.