'Cut the jokes, Charlie.'
'They called their chief in. He arrived at three a.m. In that time they'd sealed off the room and the hotel. Then they checked the belongings. That's when they found out who he was. When their chief of police saw Goodenache's passport, he called the Russian embassy in Berlin. Some of these people still feel loyal to the Russkies. By then the local press had arrived. We think the night porter called them out, probably to make a few quid. Pounds to you.'
'I know what a few quid means.'
'The local journalist rang Frankfurt. His paper is part of a national chain. They carried it in the late morning edition. That's how we picked it up.'
'That's how we got it.'
'They questioned all the residents. Nothing suspicious. Apart from one couple who weren't there. Registered as English. Two separate rooms. But only one was used, only one bed slept in.'
The DDI raised his eyebrows. 'We didn't get that.'
'The address they registered doesn't exist. We presumed the names were also false.'
'What about their passports?'
'Its all part of the European Community now. No frontiers, no passports.'
'How'd they settle the bill?'
'Didn't. Just left. Police think it could've been just a dirty night out. That's why we knew about the bed.'
'Then why two rooms?'
'Exactly.'
'No car number? No credit card imprint?'
'This is East Germany. They're not as sophisticated as us. Yet.'
'It was snowing. Car tracks.'
'Nothing. The police reckon they left bedore the snow fell. Which rules them out.'
'Was it them? What's your gut say, Charlie?'
'I think it was.'
'So do I.'
'I also know about your computer.'
'What do you know?' The DDI was alarmed. There were some things you didn't tell even your friends.
'That it's been infiltrated. I also know what happened in New Orleans. Probably more than you do.' Coy then took the DDI through the report Adam had made to him on the phone. When he finished, the DDI sat back and said nothing for a while, just digested it. Coy watched him; it wasn't a time to interrupt.
'I wondered why they'd taken off together,' the DDI said eventually. 'That's if you believe them.'
'I do. Adam Nicholson is headstrong, but he's no traitor. And I don't believe he killed Goodenache.'
'No motive. Whoever killed Trimmler also did this one. And we…' the DDI stopped. 'Hell, we still don't know who killed Trimmler. Maybe it was these two.'
'Lay off, Bill.'
'Okay, okay. It wasn't them. So who was it? And where the hell have they gone now?'
'Short of putting out an all person's alert, which would include the police and the press, there's little else we can do.'
The DDI pursed his lips and pursued his own thoughts. Coy waited for him to finish his deliberations.
'I don't think that's a bad idea,' the DDI said at last.
'My people wouldn't like it. They want it kept low profile.'
'Listen, Charlie, just give me a photo of our boy. I'll do the rest.'
'They won't allow it.'
'They won't know about it. We've got to spark this thing up. They just could be up on what's going on. We have to find them. And pronto. Give me the picture and we'll get it splashed across every paper and TV station in Germany. Once they're picked up, I can get someone in there and find out what's happening.'
'Are you going to release the girl's picture?'
'Damn right.'
'I'll think about it.'
'Charlie, you've got…'
'I said, I'll think about it. This thing, about involving our chap in the first place. Not your style, at all.'
'Didn't know about it. The whole thing was dreamt up by our Head of Administration.'
'No, it definitely didn't have your imprint.'
'Even so, you sure sent us a lulu.'
'Best man.'
'Crazy man.'
'Unorthodox. With a splendid pedigree. A loner. But the best.'
'One of your Northern Ireland boys?'
'Yes. And experience in the Gulf. Nearly knocked out half the Iraqi command force one time. Missed them by about two hours. But he still went on, left his unit, and took out a couple of Generals before getting back to our lines. Very successful for us, there and in the province. Trouble was, he never would listen to orders, rubbed everyone up the wrong way. But he always got the job done. In his own way.'
'What're you getting at, Charlie?'
'That he won't like being beaten. Trimmler's death was a sign of failure for him. He'll have picked up something. And he'll see it through to the end.'
'You got that much faith in him?'
'Yes. Can't stand the little shit, personally. But, given half a chance, he'll sort it.
'I hope you're right. Was there anything else?'
'No.'
'That's it then,' said the DDI, starting to return the papers to the folder. 'I've got to get back.'
'Everything on schedule?'
'Yeah. Presidential trips always are.'
Coy rose and walked round the table. 'When do you leave?'
'Air Force One's at Heathrow. We leave at two.'
'What's it like?'
'What?'
'The Presidential crapper. Don't you use it?'
'Shit, Charlie. You English have a real predilection for toilets. You know that? You're all crap happy.'
They both laughed.
'I'd better get going.' The DDI jumped to his feet. 'Hell, this thing's a mess. I got to stick with the President and all I can think about is those two and what they're up to. One bed slept in, huh? Who the hell do the sonovabitches think they are. Bonnie and fucking Clyde?'
Air Force One lifted off from London Heathrow on schedule at 2.02 p.m., climbed out from Runway 27 Left and turned south on track for Paris.
Once the President had retired to his quarters for the short flight, the DDI opened the envelope he'd been handed when he arrived at the airport.
The picture he took out was of Adam Nicholson.
He smiled, mentally thanked Charlie, and slipped it back into the envelope.
Time to flush them out.
We're coming to get you, Bonnie and fucking Clyde.
Ch. 66
There was no need to register in separate rooms this time.
Once Adam had flashed his passport as a European Community resident, the reception clerk at the Belleview had simply pushed the register card over the desk and asked the Englishman how he was going to settle the account.
'American Express.' Adam signed the register 'Mr. and Mrs. Nicholson'. The address he gave was a false one in Market Harborough, in the Midlands.
At three that afternoon the four-wheel-drive Audi had disregarded the thickening blizzard and raced away from the threat of Nordhausen towards Leipzig. But the westbound Route 80 continued in the tradition of the best East German roads and was difficult to follow in the snowy landscape without the hedgerows and markers that western drivers take for granted. It had slowed them down. At least it was the same for all traffic and Adam was satisfied that no-one was following. Throughout the night, the seven hours it took to cover the one hundred and twenty kilometres to Leipzig, they never passed another vehicle until they joined the rush hour traffic into the city. They breakfasted, then picked up the autobahn at Leipzig and followed it all the way to Dresden. By now the snow had stopped, and what little had settled, quickly thawed. Characteristically, Adam decided to stay at the best hotel in Dresden. There was little point in going underground in a country where he didn't speak the language. He had felt a hint of satisfaction as he walked through the lobby. It was crowded with businessmen, half of them English speaking.