‘And you really expect me to believe that, do you?’ Bronson demanded. ‘There’s an expression in English: past performance is always the best indicator of future performance. Give me one good reason why you’d treat us any differently to the others you’ve killed.’
The man at the other end of the line chuckled softly.
‘I can’t, so you’ll just have to take my word for it.’
‘Like hell I will,’ Bronson snapped.
And he pressed the button to end the call.
‘What are you doing?’ Angela demanded. ‘You’re going to get George killed!’
‘I’ve been stupid,’ Bronson replied, ‘that’s what’s happening.’
67
Bronson worked quickly. He removed the back of the phone, took out the battery and then put all the components down on the desk. Then he picked up their two carryon bags, tossed them onto the bed and began jamming their clothes in.
‘Quick, help me pack.’
‘Chris, what’s going on?’
He paused for a moment, then zipped up one of the bags.
‘That phone call didn’t really make any sense, and I’ve only just realized why. That man wouldn’t have seriously expected us to trot along and meet him and his band of killers somewhere. He would know that we’d be far more likely to just run away, get as far from Madrid as we could.’
Angela looked puzzled as she pulled open a drawer, took out a pile of clothes and began packing the other bag.
‘So why was he calling at all? Just to gloat or something?’
‘No,’ Bronson said. ‘I think it was much simpler than that. I think he just wanted us to stay here, sitting in this hotel room, long enough for him to track us down, and if I’m right, that implies that he’s got more reach than even I expected.’
He pointed at the disassembled phone on the desk.
‘You can pinpoint the position of any mobile phone in the world as long as it’s switched on, and sometimes even if it’s switched off as long as the battery is still in place and there’s a tracking chip installed,’ he said, ‘but only if you have access to the service provider’s equipment. All you have to do is identify the cells that are in contact with the phone, and that lets you triangulate the location of the mobile. It’s more accurate in a city or other built-up area because there are more cells to cope with the volume of calls.’
‘So you think they’ve found out that we’re in this hotel?’
‘By now, they probably know more or less where we are,’ Bronson said. ‘The good thing is that we’re in a hotel, so even if they have identified the building, they’ll still need to find out which room we’re in, though that probably won’t take them very long. But we must move right now.’
‘But what about George?’ Angela asked.
‘Right now, I’m afraid he’s a very low priority. If we don’t get out of here in one piece, we’re not going to be able to help him or anybody else. Our first priority has got to be to lose ourselves somewhere in Madrid. If we can manage to do that, we might just be able to help him.’
But as Bronson picked up his bag and walked towards the door, somebody outside gave a brisk double knock.
‘Oh, God,’ Angela muttered. ‘They’ve found us.’
68
Bronson shook his head.
‘The ungodly don’t knock on doors: they kick them down.’
But he still put down his bag and took out the Beretta, holding the pistol out of sight behind his back before he stepped across to the door to open it.
‘I just wondered if you’d finished with the first-aid kit,’ the bar waiter asked, looking embarrassed when he saw Bronson’s serious expression. ‘Or if you decided you did need a doctor to look at your wife.’
‘Thanks,’ Bronson said, ‘but she’s fine.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,’ the young man muttered.
‘That’s fine, thank you for your concern, but we’re leaving soon,’ said Bronson, ‘and we’re in a bit of a rush.’ With that he thrust the first-aid kit towards the waiter, along with a twenty-Euro note, and closed the door again.
A couple of minutes later he and Angela stepped cautiously out of the room and into the corridor. She was carrying the leather-covered briefcase and her bag. In front of her, Bronson had his bag in his left hand, leaving his right hand free to use the silenced pistol which he’d tucked into the waistband of his trousers. He hoped it wouldn’t be necessary, but he was taking no chances.
The corridor was deserted in both directions, and they walked as far as the lift without seeing or hearing anyone. The descent to the garage floor seemed to take for ever, and at any moment Bronson was half expecting the lift to stop, the doors to slam open, and to be faced with any number of aggressors.
When the lift finally stopped, Bronson tensed, seeing dimly through the frosted glass what he’d been dreading: a vague bulky shape standing there and waiting for the lift to arrive.
He pushed Angela behind him, at the same time slipping the silenced Beretta pistol out of his waistband and holding it slightly behind his right leg, out of sight but ready for immediate use.
With a faint mechanical rumbling sound, the lift doors slid sideways.
The man standing there looked about fifty years old, wearing a somewhat crumpled and badly cut suit, and with a small suitcase in one hand and a newish briefcase in the other. As the lift doors opened, he took a step forward, then stopped when he saw that there were two people inside it, and moved backwards with a muttered apology in Spanish, glancing from Bronson to Angela.
He didn’t look threatening, but Bronson took no chances, keeping the pistol hidden but ready to fire, as he and Angela stepped out of the lift and onto the concrete floor of the garage. For a few moments, they just stood there, waiting and alert, as the man stepped into the lift and the door closed.
They both breathed heavy sighs of relief as the lift moved up and out of sight.
They bundled everything into the car as quickly as possible, then Bronson drove around the garage towards the curved exit ramp. The electrically operated door was controlled by a panel beside the ramp. Bronson stopped beside it, dropped his window and pushed the button.
As the door slowly began to rise, creaking lazily, Bronson caught the faintest sign of movement in his rear-view mirror. A figure was emerging from the staircase door beside the lift. He immediately recognized the man from a moment ago. He also immediately realized that his assumption about the man being harmless had been entirely wrong. The stranger was raising a black object at arm’s length, and pointing it directly at the car.
69
He had barely a second to react.
‘Get down!’ he shouted.
At the same moment, he lifted the clutch and powered the car up the exit ramp towards the garage door, which was still opening, agonizingly slowly.
He heard a sharp crack from behind, the unmistakable sound of a pistol shot, and the car rocked with a sudden impact. The window directly behind Bronson shattered, glittering fragments of safety glass flying everywhere inside the car, and the window beside Angela exploded outwards as the bullet passed through that as well.
Angela screamed in terror at the sudden noise and the shock of the flying glass. The car was gathering speed as it progressed up the ramp towards the door, the front tyres smoking and howling as they scrabbled for grip under full acceleration in first gear, Bronson keeping the accelerator flat to the floor. The vehicle was weaving slightly from side to side as well, but all he cared about was covering the ground as quickly as possible.