Page 74 of Licence To Howl
‘Somehow, Avanopoulos blew himself up with one of his own bombs. By all accounts it’s very messy and there are no survivors.’
He sucked in a sharp breath. ‘Alina Bonnet?’
‘It does not look like there are any female casualties.’ Greensmith paused. ‘And from what I’ve heard, there’s nothing to be found which might allow either France or Britain to recover the bitcoin they sent mere hours ago.’
‘How very convenient,’ he murmured.
‘Indeed,’ she said drily. ‘The manhunt to find those responsible for all that has occurred would have been unprecedented. Four separate countries were involved. The entire international community would have been searching for those terrorists. Despite their success thus far, they would have been located eventually. Now they’re dead, no-one will be searching. Avanopoulos’s unexpected death has saved everyone a great deal of time, hassle and money.’
‘It was very thoughtful of him to die at this particular moment then. And for someone to phone it in too.’
‘Oh yes,’ she said, ‘it’s all very caring. We didn’t recover our money but the bad guys didn’t get away and we can all relax now.’ She sniffed. ‘Go us. It will be publicised as our great success rather than a horrific failure and, because of the optics, nobody will stop to question the dramatic coincidence that Avanopoulos blew himself up mere hours after achieving his goals.’
Devereau chewed on his bottom lip. ‘You know, you are thoughtful and caring too.’
‘I am?’
‘Yep. You kept me out of German hospital last night. You kept my involvement secret from the world at large. And you’re calling me now.’
‘Don’t thank me for that,’ Greensmith said. ‘I understand the same as you,’ she told him bitterly, ‘how it feels to be left out in the cold from your own operation. This is an entirely selfish phone call.’
Devereau smiled to himself. His headache had all but gone. ‘Yes. I suppose it is.’
‘I take back what I said before, Mr Webb. You’re more intelligent than I’d realised. Than any of us realised. Trust that furry gut of yours. I strongly suspect your theories about the truth of this entire operation are right.’
He envisioned Alina Bonnet for a moment. ‘We underestimate others only at our own peril.’
‘Then we understand each other, Mr Webb. Good luck.’ And with that she hung up.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
It wasall about using the right lure in the right way. There was only one thing which Devereau had that might work. It was a gamble and it might all come to naught. But he had nothing to lose. He swallowed down the last of his breakfast and made several phone calls. By the time he was finished and heard the burble from the television set in the next room, the news was already filtering through to the world at large.
Devereau wandered through. Dr Yara was watching the screen with wide eyes.
The newscaster’s expression was bright. ‘A spokesperson for British security services told us that the events which occurred in the early hours of this morning will serve as an important deterrent to anyone who thinks they can threaten the security of either our country or our European neighbours.’
He snorted to himself. Yeah. The PR machine was already in full swing. If he was right about Alina Bonnet, however, the real culprit behind all the bombs and threats was still at large.
‘Plans are already underway for an inquiry into the security failings which led to this point,’ the newscaster continued. ‘The Prime Minister has said that he will give it his full backing.’
There it was. If he wasn’t going to be pinpointed as the reason why the terrorists weren’t stopped earlier, then there was no doubt that any inquiry would land blame squarely at Sarah Greensmith’s feet instead. Somebody had to be the fall guy. Stefan Avanopoulos fitted that bill for the terrorists. Greensmith would play the same role for MI5. Devereau shook his head. The powers that be would allow themselves to believe that everything was over and done with and wrapped up in a neat little bow. He knew differently – and if he played his cards right, he’d prove that knowledge to the rest of the world.
‘You is angry,’ Dr Yara observed. She gestured to his hands. He glanced down, noting the fur which had sprouted across his skin.
‘Yes,’ Devereau said. ‘I’m angry.’ A ghost of a smile crossed his face. ‘But I’m not done yet either.’
* * *
The first phonecall came at midday.
‘I’ve got a buyer for you.’
Devereau’s hand tightened round the phone. ‘Go on.’
‘A Russian guy. He’s bought similar items in the past. He’ll give you two million in cash no questions asked.’
‘Not interested.’
