Retribution Read Free Page A

He was the UN’s local field security rep. So he said, anyway.’ He switched off the phone and watched the Range Rover. He had no reason to think Deane had been playing a dual role in Kosovo, but he wasn’t going to enter the US Embassy unless he had to. Deane could come and talk to him out in the open.
    â€˜Has he seen us, d’you think?’ Rik asked. The driver of the Range Rover didn’t seem in any great hurry, and was drifting along the street, matching the traffic flow.
    â€˜If he has, we’ll soon find out.’ If they had been spotted and the occupants of the other car wanted to get away, they would wait for their moment, then use the traffic to pull out and be gone. And there wasn’t much Harry and Rik could do to stop them. On the other hand, maybe a deal had been worked out with someone that would allow de Witt to be taken out of the country and beyond the reach of the courts.
    It wouldn’t be the first time.
    The Range Rover pulled on to the Marylebone Road and turned west, putting on speed. West was Heathrow. Heathrow was a flight out. Harry dialled the number again and gave them an update.
    â€˜Wait one,’ came the reply.
    Harry wondered how many cases like de Witt ended up dropping quietly between the floorboards, when they had all the attributes of a High Court showpiece. The accountant had conspired to commit fraud on a massive scale, ruining many lives and ending some prematurely. But certain individuals would see his freedom as a relatively cheap price to pay in order to get the men above him – the Albanians and others who were the planners and executioners. The dealers in death.
    â€˜Discontinue surveillance.’ The instruction was without drama; a female voice, thirty-ish, by the sound of it, confident and precise. Probably government trained and brained. ‘They’re free to leave. This assignment is over. Thank you for your time.’
    Harry acknowledged and switched off. At least she had nice manners, which was better than most. As he’d suspected: somebody had worked out a deal.
    â€˜Let’s go to your place,’ he said. ‘I need you to run a check for me.’
    â€˜On Deane?’
    â€˜Yes. Find out what he does now, where he lives, everything you can.’
    Rik glanced across. ‘He’s not a mate, then?’ Harry would know, otherwise. And going into a meet without knowing something about your contact was risky. Standard operating procedure: find out all there was to know first, avoid surprises. ‘You don’t sound keen.’
    â€˜I’m not. He’s not enough of a mate to be calling me after all this time.’ Their first encounter had been twelve years ago, when Harry had been part of the NATO-led peacekeeping mission in Kosovo. A KFOR unit had been called in when heavily armed Serb militias had tried to commandeer UN trucks to move their troops and armaments into Albanian-held territories. Deane, then the local field security representative for the UN, had been in a tricky situation: risk a fight the lightly armed UN force might not win, or back down and allow the Serbs to take the trucks, thus setting a dangerous precedent.
    Harry and his colleagues had been able to defuse the situation, but it had been a close-run thing. Shortly afterwards, he’d been assigned to lead a close protection team in the area. A UN Special Rapporteur on Human Rights had flown in unannounced for a whistle-stop tour, demanding a protection squad to accompany him. Ignoring advice from KFOR personnel on the ground to stay away, the official had dug his heels in. Keen to show openness and transparency, the UN had pressured KFOR to select a multinational squad, and Ken Deane had remembered Harry’s name.
    Now, it seemed, he’d remembered it again.

FOUR
    F our days after beginning his long journey, Kassim stepped off a Pakistan International Airlines flight at Paris Charles de Gaulle, and took a shuttle