Richter took the phone out of his pocket, quickly switched it off and tossed it on the back seat. Then he glanced back at Raya. ‘Simpson gave it to me, so he obviously knows it, and Colin Dekker, because I used it to call him this afternoon. But I have no idea who else might know that number.’
Raya reached behind her to grab the phone, then she fiddled with the catch and removed the battery.
‘Just in case there’s a tracking chip or something inside,’ she explained, examining the main circuit board that was now exposed.
‘If there is, it might be worth hanging on to it,’ Richter suggested. ‘We can send the phone one way while we go the other. And I know what you’re going to say next, how the two names that seem to keep on cropping up are Richard Simpson and Colin Dekker. Dekker is the man who’s just shot someone back in Nervi, and then disabled their car, which is exactly why there’s nobody following us right now. I’ve known him only a very short time, but his actions seem to me to speak for themselves.’
‘And what about Simpson?’
‘Richard Simpson is one of the most devious men I’ve ever met, and he’s lied to me almost from the first moment I met him. But the strange thing is, that I think he’s being straight, at least, over this.’
‘But you can’t be totally sure?’ Raya persisted.
‘No, I can’t. And also Simpson told me he would personally arrange whatever transportation we needed — like an aircraft or something.’
‘So we won’t be travelling to Britain that way,’ Raya said firmly.
‘Absolutely not. We’ll make our own way back. And I’ve got another idea that might help muddy the waters a bit, too.’
Dekker drove slowly out of Nervi, avoiding passing through the Piazza Centrale, now a scene of apparent chaos, and drove on through the outskirts of Genoa, retracing his previous route but avoiding the main roads. He concentrated on the traffic, watching his rear-view mirror for any signs of pursuit, while watching out for police or roadblocks on the road ahead. It would be a very bad idea to be stopped and have this car searched, because explaining away the Accuracy International AWS sniper rifle would be difficult, especially if somebody linked the presence of the rifle to the shooting in Nervi, then decided to carry out a ballistics test.
But most of all, he kept listening out for the sound of his mobile phone because, until Richter called him, he had no idea where to go next or what to do. A couple of times, as the traffic slowed him to a halt, he tried ringing Richter’s mobile, but each time the system reported that the other man’s phone was switched off. And that worried Dekker, because he couldn’t think of a single reason why Richter would want to remain incommunicado. The only other explanation was one he wasn’t yet prepared to accept: that Richter and the woman had been captured, or worse.
Chapter Twenty
‘How are we going to get out of Italy?’ Raya asked again.
‘I think the best option is the most obvious route: we go over the border and into France,’ Richter said. ‘And we’ll need to cross soon, before the opposition can get their act together again. They can’t possibly cover the whole border, not now that controls have been virtually abolished under Schengen, so I think a little bit of disinformation might help us as well.’
‘What do you mean?’
Richter didn’t answer directly. ‘You still think that somebody’s been tracking my phone?’
‘That’s the only explanation I can think of for what happened there, yes.’
‘Right, so we’ll take advantage of that. We’ll head inland for a while, keeping off the main roads, then I’ll turn the phone on again and make a call… But first I need to talk to Colin Dekker.’
He drove on along the minor road till he spotted what he was looking for in a small town called Torriglia.
When he’d pulled in earlier at a service area just over the Italian border, Richter had picked up a route map and an accommodation guidebook. Now, as he stopped the car on the side of the street, he pulled them both out of the door pocket and studied them carefully for a few minutes.
‘Right,’ he muttered, ‘that should work. Then he stepped out of the car, strode across to the public phone he’d spotted, and called Dekker’s mobile number.
‘I was getting worried about you,’ the SAS officer said, as soon as Richter identified himself.
‘Join the club,’ Richter replied. ‘I’ll make this quick. It’s possible my mobile’s being tracked, and I’d like to confirm that, and also try throwing the opposition off the scent. But to do that I’ll need your help.’
‘You’ve got it. You’ve already switched the phone off and pulled the battery?’
‘Yes. Now, what I’m planning is this.’
For a couple of minutes Richter outlined exactly what he wanted Dekker to do.
‘Got all that, and none of it should be a problem. How do you want to communicate? You’ll use a public phone — like you are now?’
‘Yes, that’s safest.’
‘OK, Paul. I’ll head that way right now. Take care of yourself, and keep your eyes open. Very tasty totty, by the way. I was hoping Yuri would be some hairy-arsed heavyweight with a face like a brick shithouse. Some people’, Dekker finished, ‘have all the luck.’
‘Tell me that again once we’re back in London.’
Just under two hours later, as the evening light started to fade, Richter pulled the car into an open parking area on the outskirts of Piacenza, where it would be just another anonymous saloon in a car park full of similar vehicles.
‘Are you sure about this?’ Raya looked worried.
‘It’s worth a try, and if it doesn’t work, we’re no worse off than we were before.’
He picked up his mobile, reinserted the battery and switched it on. As soon as he had a signal, he dialled the number Simpson had given him.
‘Where the hell are you, Richter?’ Simpson demanded, the moment he answered the call, ‘and what the hell’s going on? I’ve been trying to get hold of you for hours.’
‘And good evening to you, too. I forgot to charge the phone. That’s why it’s been off, and it’ll probably only last a few minutes now.’
‘Do you have the package?’
‘If you mean Yuri, yes.’
‘Is she OK?’
Richter paused for a second before he replied. ‘How do you know Yuri’s a woman?’ he asked.
‘Because I’m bloody well informed, Richter,’ Simpson snapped. ‘In this case, we aren’t the only people who know about her defection. As I told you before, our cousins across the Atlantic are also trying to get in on the act. I’ve been talking to a man named John Westwood who — unusually for an American — actually seems to know what he’s doing. He’s a Company man, and somehow managed to get hold of one of the briefing sheets the Russian watchers were using in Rome. So unless Yuri’s a real master of disguise, the person sitting next to you should be a girl named Raya Kosov.’
Richter nodded. ‘OK, you’re quite right. And, yes, she’s fine. Now, we had a problem at the rendezvous, and our friend from Hereford had to intervene. It looks like somehow they tracked Raya to the RV, which means they’ve got an accurate starting point for a search. We need to get out of Italy, but I’m not going to risk trying to get into France.’
‘So where will you cross?’
Richter glanced down at the route map open on his lap. ‘Switzerland is out of the question because there’ll be border checks there, so we’re heading for Austria. We’ll try to cross just to the south of a place called Vinaders, on the main road between Bolzano and Innsbruck. If we get over OK, can you organize an aircraft for us at Innsbruck? Say at about one o’clock tomorrow afternoon?’