Viper's Nest (16 page)

Cate stared at him, almost transfixed in horror. ‘But how could that happen?’ she said. ‘IMIA is one of the most secure organisations in the world. Henri himself told me that.
He said that only you, Marcus, and a handful of other people even knew I had worked for IMIA. It’s impossible, surely, that anyone could know about that connection.’

But even as she spoke, even as she protested against it, she knew that the theory made sense. She had tried to tell herself that it was a random attack, but deep down she knew that someone had
deliberately tried to run her off the road the other night.

‘Ritchie said that the twins had told him something about me.’ She was talking almost to herself. ‘About how I was good in a crisis and had saved them from a shark attack last
Christmas. But he never mentioned anything about me being a spy – and I’m sure the twins didn’t know. They’d left the turtle sanctuary before the real action kicked off
anyway.’

‘We’ll check Ritchie out, just in case,’ Marcus said. ‘Anyone else?’

Cate shook her head. ‘Not that I can think of.’

‘I’m sorry to say this, Cate,’ Marcus said quietly, ‘but have you considered —?’

‘No,’ said Cate sharply. ‘Not my mother. She doesn’t know anything about my work with you. I never told her – and of course Dad wouldn’t either.’

‘It’s OK,’ said Marcus, holding up his hands. ‘No one’s accusing her of anything. It’s just that she may have inadvertently passed information on to Burt. And
it’s looking more and more likely that Burt is up to his neck in this whole thing.’

There was an awkward silence. Then Marcus continued in a placatory tone. ‘We checked out your boat, the
Ming Yue
. It belongs to a Chinese billionaire called Xu Yongmin, head of a
Shanghai steel corporation. He’s had it moored here for the last year or so, pretty much for the exclusive use of his wife and daughter. Apparently, the teenage daughter is desperate to be a
Hollywood actress – wants to be the next Lucy Liu. Every so often they throw huge yacht parties and invite film producers, actors, that sort of thing, hoping that she’ll get her big
break. Anyway, it turns out neither he nor his family have been in LA for months. He says the boat is locked up, fully secured with CCTV, and only the harbour master has the key. So whoever you saw
on that boat last night, it wasn’t the owner.’

‘What about Novak?’ Cate asked. Anything on him?’

‘Now there’s a strange one,’ said Marcus. ‘We checked him out and he does work for your friend Johnny James. According to the agency that found him the job, he did indeed
come with impeccable security credentials. But when we double-checked his references, it turned out there were no records of a Novak Dabrowski. No service records, no photographs, no personal
files. Nothing.’

‘So the references were fake?’ Cate asked. ‘Can’t you arrest him for that?’

‘It’s not quite that simple,’ said Marcus. ‘Lots of former agents change their name when they leave the services – assume a whole new identity and start a new life.
It’s a form of protection for people who’ve been involved in very dangerous work.’

‘So you think Novak is one of those people?’ asked Cate, trying to understand what Marcus was saying. ‘He did do work for the security forces, but his name isn’t really
Novak?’

‘Could be,’ said Marcus. ‘In any case, we’ve got people trying to find out. But only the very top guys know who these people are and often they won’t release the
details, for very good reasons. And to be honest, we haven’t got a lot to convince them we have a valid need to know. Only that he was on a boat showing photographs to a Chinese businessman
who says he wasn’t there.’

‘They were photos of Mexican antiquities,’ said Cate. ‘Surely that has to mean something, given your current investigation.’

Marcus pulled a face. ‘You were the only one who saw them. We’ve got nothing to go on. If we pick him up now, everyone will know we’re on to him and any contacts he has will
disappear. We have to wait it out, see what other evidence we can turn up.’ He put a hand on her arm. ‘In any case, we don’t know where Novak Dabrowski is. Not right now. The head
of housekeeping at Johnny James’s place confirmed that he’s supposed to be somewhere in New York, on compassionate leave and not due back till next week.’

There was a loud clanking sound as the wheel began its downward journey and, despite herself, Cate jumped in her seat.

‘Listen,’ Marcus began. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out an airline ticket and handed it to her. ‘This is one first-class ticket back to London. We appreciate what
you have done so far. You’ve been amazing, as usual. But we think your cover has been blown, Cate, which means you are now in real danger. You need to get out of LA. Today.’

‘And then what?’ Cate asked angrily. ‘You arrest Burt and my mum gets dragged into something she probably has nothing to do with? I know what you guys are like. Normal rules
don’t apply. My mum wouldn’t stand a chance.’

‘That’s not fair.’ Marcus rubbed his eyes. ‘Henri gave you his word that we would try to keep your mother out of this. But if Burt is in deep with a gang like this, then
yes, she could be in serious trouble.’

‘I’ve got a better idea,’ said Cate suddenly. ‘A much better idea than me running back to the UK. We – that is Mum and I – have been invited to go to Mexico
tomorrow morning, with Nancy Kyle and Lucas Black on his private jet. Lucas is filming some more footage for the fundraiser and Nancy wants us to keep her company. It’s the perfect solution.
It would get Mum and me safely away from LA and leave you lot to work out just who is pulling the strings behind these thugs.’

‘I don’t know,’ Marcus said slowly. ‘What if your mother tells Burt where you’re staying? If he is linked to these people, you could still be at risk.

‘Well, that’s just it,’ said Cate triumphantly. ‘I wasn’t actually planning on staying with them for long anyway. They don’t know it yet, but I was going to
leave Mum and Nancy to their swimming pools and spas and go to El Tajin – check it out and see for myself where the twins went missing. I’m going to book into one of those backpacker
hostels and pass myself off as a student of Mexican history. It’s the perfect cover. But I can’t do it alone. I need some back-up – and an escape route. I need IMIA to promise to
get me out of there if anything goes wrong. What do you say, Marcus? Are we back in business?’

Marcus gazed out of the window of the gondola. He was suddenly quiet, too quiet and Cate felt her heart lurch.

‘What is it, Marcus?’ she said. ‘What is it you aren’t telling me?’

Marcus turned to her and smiled a weak smile.

‘Jeez, Cate,’ he said. ‘I thought I was the one who was supposed to be the experienced spy. I’d better get back to spy college.’

Cate waited patiently. Marcus was, as usual, trying to joke his way out of trouble. He shrugged and spread his long fingers wide in a gesture of surrender.

‘I wasn’t going to tell you. We knew that if we did we would never get you on that plane. But it looks like that’s not going to happen anyway.’

Cate nodded in agreement.

‘OK,’ Marcus continued. ‘You know we thought that there were no fatalities at the El Tajin heist?’

She nodded again, this time trying to quell the nauseous fear that was rising from her stomach.

‘They found two bodies in the jungle a few kilometres inland from the camp. The government knew about it but chose, for their own reasons, not to tell us right away.

‘Not the twins – don’t worry.’ Marcus laid a reassuring hand on Cate’s suddenly clammy arm. ‘It was the guards from the camp.’ Marcus’s face
tightened in anger. ‘Hands tied behind their backs and shot through the head. Young men, family men, both of them. Just doing their job.’

Cate looked at him in horror. She felt a stab of guilt that, for a few seconds, she had been relieved that it was the guards and not her friends. But at least now she knew the real truth about
just how ruthless this gang could be.

‘I have to go,’ Cate said suddenly. ‘I have to get down there to at least try to find the twins. You know, Marcus, I could be just the one to do it.’

The wheel had nearly completed its circuit now. A few more minutes and they would be out in the world again, and she would be facing – what? A bullet through her head? Bundled into a van
and taken somewhere quiet to be disposed of. Cate shuddered. Marcus was right about one thing: she had to get out of this town fast. But he was talking again, more to himself, Cate thought, than to
her.

‘It’s one thing sending you in to spy for us when people think you’re just a regular sixteen-year-old kid. But we can’t just ignore the fact that someone almost certainly
knows who you are. If something happens to you, not only will I feel personally responsible, but your father will probably hunt us down like the mad dogs we are. And I can’t say I’ll
blame him either.’

‘OK, Marcus, how about a compromise?’ Cate put on her reasonable voice. ‘Let’s ask Henri and whatever he says, we’ll go with it. Deal?’

The wheel juddered to a halt and the door was pulled open by a bored-looking youth.

‘Deal,’ said Marcus reluctantly as he stepped down from the gondola and scanned the crowd with eagle eyes. As she alighted behind him, Cate noticed for the first time a bulge
underneath his jacket, just above his waistline. As usual, Marcus had come ready for trouble.

‘I must say, I like the idea of having an undercover agent checking out El Tajin.’ Henri, his voice hammering like a machine gun out of the speaker on
Marcus’s phone, had been as pragmatic as always, just as Cate suspected he would. ‘We were talking about putting someone in there anyway and Cate speaks pretty good Spanish, as I
recall. It’s amazing what you can pick up if you listen. The locals often hang out with the backpackers, people have a few beers, tongues get loose. It’s a good idea. But with a
potential price on Cate’s head, well, I don’t know if we can take that risk. We may have to end up bailing her out of trouble and we really can’t afford the manpower at the
moment. As far as IMIA is concerned, Cate may well be a spent force.’

Cate took a sharp intake of breath and Marcus shot her an apologetic glance. Tact was never Henri’s strongest point.

Oblivious, Henri tutted to himself, clearly thinking hard. ‘I have to consider this. I’ll let you know as soon as I reach a decision. In the meantime, Marcus, take Cate somewhere
secure. She’s no longer safe in LA.

Five minutes later, Cate found herself looking up at the dirty windows of an apartment over a cut-price grocery store three blocks back from the ocean.

‘We’re not in a James Bond movie,’ said Marcus as he spotted the disappointment on her face. ‘Real spies blend into the background; they don’t drive flash cars and
live in penthouse suites. We’re not even good-looking. Well, present company excepted, of course. In fact, a good spy is delighted if no one can ever remember what he or she looks like. Stay
there.’ He gestured towards the porch. ‘I’ll just check we weren’t followed.’

Once inside the grubby two-roomed apartment, Cate sat down gingerly on a rather dirty cream sofa.

‘Fancy a cup of tea?’ Marcus waved a couple of chipped mugs at her. ‘Though there’s no milk, I’m afraid.’

Cate shook her head.

‘Game of cards?’ Marcus produced a pack from his pocket and began to deal. ‘Pontoon?’

Cate had just beaten Marcus for the third time in a row when his phone bleeped softly.

‘Henri says to go ahead,’ he said, looking up from his phone. ‘Oh, and apparently Novak Dabrowski left the Polish security services three years ago. Which begs the question,
where has he been in the meantime?’

A few minutes later there was a gentle knock at the door.

‘Yo, Jay,’ said Marcus, high-fiving with the bespectacled young black man carrying a large, battered briefcase. ‘Haven’t seen you since that Croatian deal went down. Was
it three years ago? Oh, by the way, this is Cate, your operative. I guess you’ve been told what she needs.’

Jay looked at Cate, opened his mouth and then shut it again. He put his bag down and began to unpack the contents on to the glass coffee table.

Cate spotted the standard spy stuff: a few bugs, a compact bundle of dollar notes, a microscopic infra-red camera hidden in a pen, a tiny laser that could cut through just about anything. Funny,
she reflected, how she knew exactly what they were. When she had first used these gadgets last summer she had thought that they were amazing, so complicated that she would never be able to use
them. But now, after two missions, they felt almost like old friends – familiar, easy-to-use and totally reliable. Perhaps this spying thing was growing on her after all.

‘What’s this?’ she asked, picking up what looked like a conductor’s baton and waving it around.

‘Aha – clever little thing, this is,’ said Jay, putting out his hand. His breath smelled of chewing gum and coffee. ‘It’s new, but very sensitive and reliable.
It’s a metal detector, see?’

He pulled a tiny attachment from the bottom of the small leather bag and pushed it on to the tip of the rod. He waved it over Cate’s hand and it bleeped happily at the silver Tiffany ring
that Monique and her dad had given her for her sixteenth birthday present.

‘It’s accurate to a distance of about three metres. Flick this switch here . . .’ he pointed to a tiny red knob at the side of the baton ‘. . . and it becomes a
heat-seeker.’

‘Useful for searching out live targets,’ explained Marcus, seeing her puzzled face. ‘Even works through solid stone. We thought it might come in handy, as you’re going to
be hanging out in the pyramids!’

‘Ever worn contact lenses?’ Jay asked her.

Cate shook her head, taken aback at the question. She had twenty-twenty vision, unlike Arthur and her friend Louisa.

‘I’d like you to practise wearing these.’

Cate took the small plastic tin from him and, to her amazement, opened it up to find a pair of clear eye lenses cupped in a bed of blue fluid.

‘You want me to wear contact lenses?’ She was baffled.

‘At Christmas we kitted you out with night-vision goggles,’ Marcus reminded her. ‘This is the next step up. Night-vision lenses. Safe, secure, easy to use. State of the art,
ultra high-tech, they mould to the shape of your eye and give you the clearest daytime vision in the darkest of places.’