Page 20 of End Game
‘Only half a million, but I would need fifty thousand for the deposit.’
Bernie Longe nodded. He considered the proposition for a few moments before he said, ‘You’ll get your fifty thousand the day after I sign the contract for the stadium.’
CHAPTER 7
24 June 2012 – 33 days to go
FAULKNER KNEW THATif the Russians were expected to part with one of their most fabled treasures, it would come at a very high price. He had been left with no choice but to clear his diary for the next few weeks and be on call at a moment’s notice, whatever the hour. Meetings of the inner team were always held at a different venue, at short notice, and rarely during office hours.
Despite his reservations, Booth Watson remained on call, well aware he could leave at a moment’s notice and take advantage of Bernie Longe’s offer to double his retainer. He began his new assignment by trawling the universities for law students who were looking for a holiday job, and after selecting the brightest three on tap, he didn’t allow them to meet each other. The first task they were set was to find out if anything had gone wrong during the build-up to the Beijing Olympics which they could duplicate.
One of the three, who thought like a criminal – always useful if you’re hoping to be a defence barrister – produced the thickest file. When the torch relay had arrived in Beijing, the runners, he wrote, were continually held up by Tibetan separatists, one of whom tried to put out the Olympic flame with a fire extinguisher. He’d been sentenced to five years in prison.
Faulkner turned up to the next meeting, accompanied by his pliant QC, armed with enough valuable information they could take advantage of. However, they wouldn’t be telling Sun Anqi everything they’d discovered.
They gathered in an upstairs room of a quiet London pub. Miles wasn’t surprised to find Petrov waiting for him, but the lady with a killer’s eyes was sitting on the next table as if they weren’t together. She didn’t even glance in his direction.
After a ten-pound note had changed hands, the landlord assured his customers that no one would disturb them. Booth Watson shifted in his seat; this was the first meeting he’d attended and he didn’t feel at ease.
‘You have to understand that security will be tight,’ Faulkner warned Petrov, as they discussed the first item on their unwritten agenda: disrupting the Olympic torch relay. ‘Even during the night, two police officers never allow the torch out of their sight.’
‘Then what chance do we have of carrying out your plan?’ asked Petrov.
Faulkner didn’t answer the question, but simply replied, ‘I’ve identified a weakness in the system.’
Petrov didn’t have to ask the obvious question.
‘Eighty thousand volunteers have applied to be among the chosen few to carry the torch,’ Booth Watson explained,‘including Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt, who were both turned down, as the organizing committee were keen to involve only local people on each stage of the torch’s journey.’
Petrov made a note.
‘I’ve discovered that a local fireman from Hounslow has been selected to carry the torch on one of the stages between Wembley and Greenwich,’ added Faulkner.
‘And?’ pressed Petrov.
‘Unfortunately, the man in question turns out to have a gambling problem and is being pressed by his bookie to pay up. I’m going to solve his problem,’ said Faulkner, ‘and in return, I intend to take advantage of his particular skills, which will turn the torch relay into a farce and create unwelcome headlines right across the world, without any suggestion that you were in any way involved.’
‘Hardly earth shattering,’ suggested the lady seated on the next table.
Booth Watson took a closer look at Sun Anqi and after thirty years as a criminal barrister, knew evil when he saw it.
‘I have several disruptions planned that should keep Warwick and his lapdogs well occupied during the run-up to the Games,’ said Petrov, looking directly at Faulkner. ‘The more minor incidents the police have to deal with before the Games, the better, as then they won’t be prepared for what I have in store for them.’
‘But what do you have in store for them?’ asked Sun Anqi, barely able to hide her frustration.
‘Operation Blackout,’ said Petrov without further explanation. ‘And I shouldn’t have to remind you, you’re simply an observer until the closing ceremony.’
‘But, should you fail,’ said Sun Anqi, ‘which wouldn’t come as a surprise, I will then be expected to cover your mistakes.’
Petrov turned back, barely able to control his temper as he faced Faulkner. ‘Can I confirm, Mr Faulkner, that you own a Learjet 45?’
Booth Watson was quickly becoming aware just how much intelligence they had on his client and he didn’t like it.
Faulkner hesitated, before nodding. ‘Housed in a hangar at Biggin Hill and ready to take off at a moment’s notice.’
‘Good, because at some time in the near future, we will require you to fly to Helsinki, collect a package from our embassy and bring it back to London.’
‘Why can’t one of your own people cover that?’ asked Booth Watson.
