of canned cherries. If officials noted the Hungarian customs seals had been interfered with, the driver could easily shrug it off as vandalism or an attempt at theft.
As the customs official crossed back to the truck, Tadeui intercepted him. ‘A moment, please. Where is the parcel fd Berlin?’j
Krasic frowned. He’d almost begun to think that his bos had had sensible second thoughts about the Chinese hero; the illegals had brought with them to pay part of their passag There was no reason for Tadzio to change the systems th Krasic had so punctiliously set up. No reason other than 1 foolish superstitions he’d been prey to since Katerina’s deau The customs man shrugged. ‘Better ask the driver,’ he sai with a nervous grin. He’d never seen the big boss before, a: it was a privilege he could well have done without. Krasi ruthlessness in Tadeusz’s name was a legend among corrupt of Central Europe.
Tadeusz cocked an eyebrow at the driver.
‘I keep it in the casing of my CB radio,’ the driver saic
He led Tadeusz round to the lorry cab and pulled the radii
free of its housing. It left a gap large enough to hold fou
sealed cakes of compressed brown powder.lj
‘Thank you,’ Tadeusz said. ‘There’s no need for you to b<
troubled with that on this trip.’ He reached inside an<
extracted the packages. ‘You’ll still get your money, of course
Krasic watched, feeling the hair on the back of his necl
stand up. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d crossed
frontier with so much as a joint of cannabis. Driving across
Europe with four kilos of heroin seemed like insanity. Hij
boss might be suffering from a death wish, but Krasic didn’l
want to join the party. Muttering a prayer to the Virgin, he
followed Tadeusz back to the limo.”<
10
2
^arol Jordan grinned into the mirror in the women’s toilet
nd punched the air in a silent cheer. She couldn’t have had
better interview if she’d scripted it herself. She’d known her
tuff, and she’d been asked the kind of questions that let her
low it. The panel - two men and a woman - had nodded
md smiled approval more often than she could have hoped
for in her wildest dreams.
She’d worked for this afternoon for two years. She’d moved from her job running the CID in the Seaford division of East Yorkshire Police back to the Met so she’d be best placed to step sideways into the elite corps of the National Criminal (Intelligence Service, NCIS. She’d taken every available course on criminal intelligence analysis, sacrificing most of her off duty time to background reading and research. She’d even used a week of her annual leave working as an intern with a private software company in Canada that specialized in crime Imkage computer programs. Carol didn’t mind that her social life was minimal; she loved what she was doing and she’d disciplined herself not to want more. She reckoned there couldn’t be a detective chief inspector anywhere in the country who had a better grasp of the subject. And now she was ready for the move.
Her references, she knew, would have been impeccable. Her former chief constable, John Brandon, had been urging her for
11
1
a long time to move away from the sharp end of policing in the strategic area of intelligence and analysis. Initially, she h resisted, because although her early forays into the area h given her a significantly enhanced professional reputatio they’d left her emotions in confusion, her self-esteem at an a time low. Just thinking about it now wiped the grin from h face. She gazed into her serious blue eyes and wondered ho long it would be before she could think about Tony Hill witho the accompanying feeling of emptiness in her stomach.
She’d been instrumental in bringing two serial killers ^ justice. But the unique alliance she’d formed with Tony, psychological profiler with more than enough twists in h own psyche to confound the most devious of