He sees a cheeky smile on her face. ‘More than.’ He unfolds his fingers from hers and grabs her ass. ‘Let’s make that bus rock some more.’
102
SSOA operatives Bradley Sullivan and Jessica Lanza are parked in separate cars at opposite ends of the street where Khalid Korshidi lives.
They’re both equipped with tracker monitors, following the movement of the target tack that Zachra inserted into her father’s shoe.
Sullivan is mid-twenties and dressed in denim jacket and jeans, Big Bang T-shirt and Jesus sandals. Lanza has shoulder-length dark hair and could pass as his mother. She’s in dark slacks, beige top and a long cardigan that hides her Glock.
Six hours pass before they get to communicate.
‘Eyeball one. I have target on the move and in my line of sight.’ Sullivan starts the engine of his old Buick Encore.
‘Eyeball two. Gotcha and ready to go.’ Lanza guns up her Toyota Avensis and puts her coffee carton back in the cup-holder on the dash.
Korshidi heads across the road to where he parked his battered Transit and within a minute is in the traffic heading south.
Lanza and Sullivan follow him out to the I-95 then down as far as Jerome Avenue, where they expect him to turn left onto East 161st and then head towards the Yankee Stadium, the area where Antun had been meeting Nabil.
He doesn’t. He hangs a right on 176th then dumps the vehicle in a corner lot and walks a few hundred yards to the metro station.
Sullivan gets caught in traffic but Lanza reads it better. She pulls over and by the time Korshidi is disappearing down the steps into the station, she’s only twenty yards behind him.
He heads straight for the Four train. As he steps into the carriage he glances back to make sure he’s not being followed.
Lanza pretends to adjust what looks like an iPhone in her hands but is actually a highly advanced tracker monitor. The carriage is packed and broiling. They ride for almost half an hour before he gets off at Utica Avenue.
Out on the street, Korshidi walks north. After a block Lanza’s pleased to see Sullivan’s Buick pass her and stop near the junction with Beverley Road. By the time she gets there, her partner’s out on the street and she’s able to slip into the unlocked car and take the weight off. More than anything, it’s a relief to turn on the air-con.
Sullivan’s foot follow goes on all the way past Tiden and down to Snyder, where Korshidi turns left and crosses the road. The whole area is populated by low rent stores. Everything is here, from second-hand clothing to stolen tools, phone unlocking and dope dealers.
Korshidi heads down some basement stairs near a barber’s shop and Sullivan hangs back to avoid being spotted by whoever might open a door for him.
Lanza passes him in the Buick and pulls up twenty yards away on the other side of the street. There they both vanish into the shadows.
The waiting game has begun.
103
It takes Mitzi two thick slices of chef’s cheesecake to forgive Dumbo and stop freaking out about having her room tossed while she was at the embassy. Even after using a hand scanner to check for electronic bugs and deciding it’s clean she’s still nervous.
The bottle of thirty-year-old single malt whisky the manager sent up is now being shipped to Kirstin Collins to crack open at Irish’s wake. She’ll make sure she calls on the day and checks on the kid.
Mitzi licks the last of the cake from the fork and finishes reading Vicky’s report on the Gwyns. The girl done good. All the stuff about King Arthur is weird but maybe Gwyn is some kind of enthusiast or collector. Collectors are always crazy. And rich crazies will often kill if things don’t go their way.
She calls Donovan and updates her on the events of the last twelve hours then asks to be bounced to Vicky, who picks up after the second ring. ‘HRU, how can I help you?’
‘Hiya hon, it’s Mitzi.’
‘Hi, Lieutenant. How are you?’
‘Feeling about as raw as newly cut beef. Hey, I just called to say you did a great job on those profiles.’
‘Thanks. I found it all fascinating. It’s like Sir Owain and Lady Gwyn are a modern-day Arthur and Guinevere.’
Mitzi laughs. ‘Don’t get carried away. I think all English lords and ladies live privileged lives like that and I ain’t so sure he’s a knight in shining armour.’
‘Of course. I didn’t mean morally, it’s just with all the historic connections.’
‘Yeah, that’s a bit strange, don’t you think? And what about the guy he took legal action against?’
‘Mallory — I put his numbers on the briefing I sent you and I spoke to him. He says he knows things that would make your hair curl.’
‘That’s not a look you want to see. What’s he know?’
‘He wouldn’t say. Not in person. I think it’s because of the injunctions.’
‘I’m heading out to Wales tonight, so I’ll look him up. Can you get Travel to find me somewhere near Gwyn’s estate?’
‘Sure.’
‘And send me a proper address for Caergwyn Castle. I just searched for it on Google and couldn’t find the place.’
‘Will do. I looked on our standard satellite maps and it doesn’t show up there either.’
‘How can that be?’
‘I checked with intel and they say it’s probably because there’s a no-fly zone there.’
‘Military restrictions?’
‘Seems that way. The SAS use the countryside for manoeuvres. This castle appears to be in the middle of their training grounds.’
Mitzi thinks out loud. ‘A knight conveniently surrounded by an army.’
‘Kings, castles and legends,’ says Vicky, almost too excitedly. ‘I wish I was there to see it all.’
‘I’d gladly swap places. Mail me the details soon as you can. I’m gonna check out and hire a car.’
‘Back to you ASAP, Lieutenant.’
Mitzi hangs up and looks long and hard at the memory stick containing the Arthurian data.
It brings back all the nervousness about having her room snooped. This is what Warman and Jackson, or whoever they are, tossed her room for. What cost Sophie Hudson her life. And what’s certain to cause more bloodshed. She knows she has to do something with it. Something more secure than just put it back in her purse
104
Gareth Madoc sits behind a glass desk in a secure penthouse office on Sixth Avenue.
He’s listening to Jessica Lanza on a comms feed. ‘About an hour ago, Khalid Korshidi ditched his car, caught a train out to East Flatbush and entered what looks like a safe house.’ She can’t help but sound optimistic. ‘Now get this: he’s just been joined by Nabil Tabrizi.’
‘Have we got a listen in?’
‘Not yet. The building is in a position we can’t hit with a parabolic.’ She looks out of the windshield of the Buick and down the street to where Sullivan is crossing over. ‘Sully has gone to play the jacked-up druggie looking for a quiet place to shoot up. He’ll drop a syringe down the steps to the basement entrance. With any luck he’ll get a recorder on the glass, then we have to pray the technology works.’
‘It usually does.’
‘Yeah, well, I’ll stop sweating when “usually” becomes “always”. I gotta go. Back to you soon.’
‘Stay safe.’
‘You too.’
There’s a click and she’s gone.
Madoc turns his thoughts to Zachra. The fact she tagged her father means she’s onside. Now is the make or break moment. She has to get listening devices into that back room where her father hangs out. If she does, he’s ready to write that ticket she wants for a new life.