Greed, page 29
Jeanne presented her badge to a young woman. ‘Jeanne Dalli,’ she said. ‘My name’s on the list of participants.’
The woman studied the plastic badge and then the screen in front of her. She frowned. ‘I’m sorry, but your access has been cancelled.’
‘Cancelled?’ said Jeanne. ‘Why?’
She wasn’t going to ring Ted to sort this out, but how about George? On second thoughts, it was probably better not to contact anyone close to Ted right now.
‘It doesn’t say here,’ the woman answered, giving Jeanne a sceptical look. It might be time to leave before the woman thought of reporting her to the police.
‘Arrive a few minutes late and …’ She grabbed her badge. ‘In that case …’ She turned on her heel and walked quickly away but with her head held high. There was a burning sensation in the pit of her stomach.
Jan and Fitz hurried breathlessly after Amistad. Yet more jogging after such a trying night and testing morning. What next?
Amistad had led them on a long detour out of the mass of demonstrators and around the back of Pariser Platz. There were police blocks set up on Mauerstrasse and Behrenstrasse. Long barricades consisting of steel barriers, tank traps, police and military vehicles, water cannons and whole squads of riot police. There was probably a sniper on every roof. Jan felt queasy. In this area there was only the occasional wandering demonstrator to be seen.
‘Can the ideas of a Nobel Prize winner and a few others really bring the world back from the brink?’ Jan asked Fitz. ‘Stop the crash and end mass unemployment and war?’ He was wondering if this caper was worth taking yet more mad risks for.
‘Not this time, I don’t think,’ Fitz answered, ‘or only partially. But maybe some of those things in the long run.’
In the long run I’ll be dead, thought Jan. He could still duck out of this if he chose to.
A few guards were standing around looking bored at a security checkpoint with two metal gates. A handful of people were queuing to be frisked and let inside.
‘It’s this one,’ said Amistad. ‘This checkpoint is for staff and helpers only.’ She looked around as if searching for something. Someone waved to her from a group of people in waiters’ uniforms on the other side of the street. Some of them were wearing small rucksacks.
‘There they are.’
Fitz dug his hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his mobile.
‘Jeanne,’ he said, staring at the display in surprise. He answered the phone as they walked over to the group of five people in their black-and-white uniforms. Jan couldn’t hear what Jeanne said, only Fitz’s answers.
‘That’s funny, we’re just trying to do the same.’
‘…’
‘Oh.’
‘…’
‘Where are you?’
‘…’
‘Let me try something.’ He lowered the phone and turned towards Amistad. ‘I know this sounds cheeky, but is there any way we could smuggle in another person? She’s almost more important than we are.’
Amistad looked annoyed and frowned.
‘She has a better grasp of the subject,’ Fitz explained, ‘and she knows the guy we want to question very well indeed.’
Amistad had a quick think and glanced at her watch. ‘How soon can she get here?’
‘Five minutes.’
‘She’s got five minutes,’ said Amistad, ‘then we’re gone.’
73
The Range Rover was wedged between two half-demolished cars with its doors and tailgate wide open. The front seats were strewn with splinters of glass, while more fragments lay everywhere on the surrounding road surface.
Patrol cars had sealed off the area, with two police officers left guarding the crash site – the crime scene – while others patrolled the perimeter to keep onlookers out and witnesses in.
There were a number of bullet holes in the rear as well as the front of the Range Rover.
‘You went and shot the thing to bits?’ asked Maya, taking stock of the scene. ‘With so many people around?’
‘It’s certainly nothing to brag about,’ Tibor admitted. ‘There’s bound to be an inquiry.’
‘It’s a miracle no one was hurt,’ said Jörn, showing more compassion than Maya would have credited him with.
‘And you’re sure there was no one in the back?’ she asked.
‘Well, we didn’t see anyone,’ said Tibor, ‘but the impact flung the tailgate open and it took us ten minutes to get control of the situation and the vehicle. You can see the position it’s in. Someone could well have escaped during that time.’
She examined the boot without touching anything.
‘Forensics are on their way,’ Tibor informed her.
Her mobile buzzed. A text from headquarters. With pictures. Maya was shocked. The images had been recorded a few minutes earlier by a surveillance camera overlooking one of the security checkpoints outside the conference centre where the opening ceremony of the summit had begun an hour ago.
Maya called back immediately. ‘Did she get in?’
‘She was turned away,’ her colleague at headquarters explained, ‘even though she was on the guest list. Her security clearance was cancelled and so was her pass.’
‘Why?’
‘We don’t know yet.’
Maya put her phone away. ‘Thanks,’ she said to Tibor, grabbing Jörn’s arm. ‘We’re off!’
The Samaritan and the gambler were standing with the person from the demo and the bunch of penguins near a small security checkpoint a block away from the American and British embassies and the Hotel Adlon. El was keeping watch from the shadow of a building across the street. He could barely hear the voice in his earpiece due to the noise from the demonstration and a helicopter hovering overhead.
‘She’s running east,’ Bell panted.
Towards us?!
She appeared about two hundred yards behind the group he had his eye on. About three hundred yards away, the sound of the demo ratcheted up a notch. El could hear a rising wave of oohs and aahs from the crowd, culminating in cheers and applause.
El’s eyes darted back and forth between the sprinting woman and the demonstration.
The cause of all the excitement was a host of tiny dots rising higher and higher over the heads of the crowd. More and more of them climbed into the air – soon there would be hundreds of them, thousands. They coalesced into a cloud like a flock of starlings over a field, producing an ever-shifting series of new and fascinating patterns.
El identified the dots as a multitude of miniature drones.
The same show as last night, but this time without the lights.
The spectacle was also visible to the guards at the security checkpoints and to the cluster around the Samaritan and the gambler. The only person not gazing into the sky was Dalli, who was racing single-mindedly towards them, had almost reached them in fact.
More recently launched drones joined the others as if part of a larger whole. The wild surges and movements constantly changed the shape of the cloud, and before El could figure out how it had been done, the drones had formed another gigantic peace sign over Pariser Platz. Everyone in the area had thrown back their head and was gazing up into the sky. El caught himself succumbing to the same temptation as everyone else, and when he looked over at the Samaritan, Peel, Dalli and the others again, they were gone.
He caught sight of them at the security checkpoint. Most of the guards were still watching the air show over the conference centre, and only one bothered to verify the waiters’ papers, giving their rucksacks a cursory check before casually waving them through.
More and more drones took flight, weaving slogans in various languages around, through and within the peace symbol in a procession of beautiful choreography, intertwining with it, breaking off again and merging into new forms.
The security guard was letting the gambler into the summit compound! El instructed his phone to dial the client’s number.
Dalli was inside now too.
Ringtone. The drama overhead was so absorbing that the other guards were completely oblivious to their overworked colleague and only threw him an occasional glance.
El’s client answered his phone.
Only the Samaritan and two penguins were still queuing. El would eat his hat if they really were conference staff.
SEVENTH DECISION
* * *
‘Knowledge of the mathematical principle makes it easier to identify and address undesirable developments.’
Will Cantor
74
Fitz and Jeanne had passed through the checkpoint ahead of Jan. The security guard paid no attention to the papers they held up. It was all a show for the cameras, Amistad had explained – the guard was one of theirs. They’d infiltrated him into the system long ago, along with two other members of the six-person team. No one seemed to give a damn. Nonetheless, Jan’s heart was in his mouth and his knees had turned to jelly. Now was his last opportunity to turn back and forget the whole thing. He was far more eager to prove his innocence than to track down the manuscript and reveal its contents.
Jan could only see the backs of the other security guards because their eyes were trained on the drone ballet overhead. It was quite a sight, he had to admit, even the second time around. Eye-catching pictures for the international media.
‘Papers, please,’ the guard asked.
Jan’s heart almost jumped out of his mouth and tears welled in his eyes. Hundreds of heavily armed soldiers. All those armoured vehicles over there. His decision was made, and there was no going back without attracting attention and putting the others in danger. He showed the man his ID. The man squinted at him and Jan gave an awkward smile in return. The man waved him through.
With adrenaline still coursing through Jan’s veins, he and the others moved quickly away from the checkpoint along Behrenstrasse to where it met Wilhelmstrasse. On reaching the crossroads, they came upon more barricades. To the right, towards the British embassy, Wilhelmstrasse was in complete lockdown. One hundred and fifty yards straight ahead, barricades, vehicles and police officers obscured their view of the Jewish memorial and the Tiergarten. Between the blockades and the park a double security cordon surrounded the American embassy.
Their gait was determined rather than anxious as they walked along the back of Hotel Adlon and past the Academy of Arts towards the barricades in front of the American embassy. Beneath their helmets, the soldiers’ fierce expressions made them feel as if a company of snipers held them in their crosshairs.
A few smokers were taking a cigarette break under the portico of the last house before the barricade. Jeanne, Fitzroy and the others entered this house via a ramp leading down into the underground car park, and from there they continued along a succession of concrete tunnels. Serving staff were busy pushing trolleys piled high with crates of bottles and boxes of catering, talking via headsets as they hurried past or leaning against walls for a quick rest. Jan was reminded of computer games in which players had to build up a civilization until the screen teemed with hundreds of bustling figures.
No one paid the slightest attention to the newcomers despite Jan’s feeling that their clothing – not to mention his bruised and battered face – must surely mark them out as intruders.
Amistad instructed them to follow one of the black-and-white waiters, and they climbed a few flights of stairs up into the conference centre where staff were now clad in white clothing, chef’s hats and headscarves. Steam, the clatter of crockery, a hum of voices, barked orders, and a whole potpourri of aromas.
Their guide led them purposefully through the hurly-burly into another corridor with waiters and waitresses rushing with loaded trays in one direction and empty ones in the other.
Amistad stopped at the next door and peered out. It was a different world beyond. Red carpet, elegant wood panelling and, between them and the far wall, room-length tables with white tablecloths and flower arrangements. This was where the tray-bearers were unloading their delicacies. Dotted around the room were small round bar tables covered with long tablecloths and small vases of flowers that added a dash of conviviality to the busy scene.
A pair of double doors in the far wall hid the buffet from the guests. It was approaching noon, and in a couple of hours they would open and hundreds of hungry summit participants would pour through the gap.
‘This is the foyer before the conference room,’ Amistad explained. ‘We’re all on our own from here on,’ she said. ‘Good luck!’
She took another peek, beckoned to her companions and one by one they slipped out into the room. Scattered around the foyer, delegates to the summit who had allowed themselves a little time out from the speeches or simply weren’t interested were chatting around bar tables. Large screens relayed the events inside the conference room with subtitles but no sound. Amistad and her team melted effortlessly into the crowd.
Jan, Fitz and Jeanne hadn’t exchanged a word all this time.
‘I’d like to speak to Ted first,’ said Jeanne.
‘We’ll keep out of the way then,’ said Fitz.
We?
Jeanne turned around and was about to step out into the foyer when Jan grabbed her shoulder and jerked her back into hiding. A tall, athletic, short-haired man in a suit had just appeared through a door at the back of the lobby, followed by a second guy. Jan had seen them both before – a few hours ago in Jeanne’s suite.
Fitzroy pushed Jeanne to one side and they flattened themselves against the wall to let the serving staff come and go.
‘What are they doing here?’ he asked quietly.
‘Guarding Ted,’ Jeanne replied. ‘He always has several of them around, even in high-security areas like here.’
‘High-security!’ Fitzroy scoffed. ‘They let us in, didn’t they?’
‘Are they allowed to carry guns in here?’ Jan asked.
‘No,’ said Jeanne.
‘Thank God for small mercies.’
‘How come those guys choose this very moment to appear and head straight towards us?’ Fitzroy hissed as he peered out through the gap.
Jan watched the two men exchange a few words. One man stayed in the lobby, while the other set off up the broad stairway to the first floor.
‘We won’t make it past him,’ he said.
‘Overtake the bastard,’ Maya yelled. This was a little unfair, because Jörn was speeding, lights flashing and siren howling, towards the conference centre like a racing driver, and a good one at that. He was fast but he was in complete control. They were somewhere south of the Tiergarten, and the traffic was getting worse.
‘What do you want me to do?’ his voice in her ear asked pointedly.
‘You? You need to pass on the faces and names to the police at the conference sites. And tell them to watch out – some of those guys are highly dangerous.’
‘Terrorists?’
‘Probably not.’
‘What then?’
‘If only I knew. They need to look for those men and arrest any of them that they find – all of them.’
‘Evacuate the place?’
‘God, no! Let’s keep this quiet.’
They were still half a mile from the conference centre. There was a swarm of something in the air, but it wasn’t birds.
We want our share, it said in huge letters.
Not again.
‘Cool.’
‘What did you say?’
‘Oh, nothing. Just do as I told you.’
‘I’m on my way,’ said the voice in El’s ear. He saw a tall man in a suit advancing towards the security checkpoint from inside the enclosure. The drones were still dancing over the building, and the strains of a classic soul track being sung by hundreds of thousands of people drifted over from the demonstration outside.
R-E-S-P-E-C-T
El crossed the street to the checkpoint. It was only now that one of the security guards took any notice of him.
‘This one is with me,’ said the man who’d come to meet him. He showed his ID and a second badge – probably his security pass – to the guard. ‘Let him in.’
El presented his ID. The security guard checked his name against his list. Rattled, he looked uncertainly back and forth between the man in the suit and El. His colleagues still seemed more interested in the drone extravaganza in the sky.
‘But he’s not on our—’
‘So what?’ Mr Suit snapped at him. ‘As you can see, I came from this side. Inside. I have a security pass and this man is with me, so he’s covered.’ The man in the suit waved his pass under the guard’s nose. ‘Do I need to have a word with your manager? Are you looking for trouble?’
‘Let him through,’ said one of his distracted colleagues. ‘He’s obviously security like us.’
The tight-lipped guard waved El into the compound.
Mr Suit greeted him with a questioning look. ‘So where did they go?’ he asked.
El walked along Behrenstrasse to the car park entrance behind Hotel Adlon into which the Samaritan and the gambler had vanished.
‘I’ve had enough of hanging around,’ said Jan. ‘I’m going to go out and distract that guy.’
All around them, obliging waiters were gradually loading the buffet and bar tables with canapés, plates, napkins and glasses.
‘He can’t really do me any harm. He won’t call the police. The hotel staff didn’t, and even if he does … Jeanne will confirm we didn’t break in.’
‘How about the suspected murder?’ Fitzroy pointed out.
‘I didn’t murder them. The police must know that by now, and if they don’t, what was it Thompson and Cantor’s story and paper taught us? Trust and cooperation.’
‘Precisely,’ said Fitzroy. ‘And now they’re both dead.’
‘See you later,’ said Jan. He slid through the gap in the door and made his way stealthily towards the stairwell. Fitzroy hadn’t credited the kid with such guts. He watched the guy in the suit near the opposite wall.
