The missing link, p.5
THE MISSING LINK, page 5
When she finally got her drink, she spotted a few students leaving and sat down. Slipping off her shoes, she folded her legs on the chair and took a sip from the hot coffee. It slightly burned her lip; strangely enough, this gave her focus.
The man had known she was coming. Which meant that someone had told him. Two parties had known she was coming. One was the Brits, whose intelligence community would be informed in advance of an agent entering. This was some standard message, drowned in dozens of those coming in every day into London. The other side were her people. The director had chosen to make this an unofficial mission. She realized she hadn’t given it enough thought. Had he suspected someone would possibly endanger the mission? Did Nepalese Intelligence have a mole? There were tickets, of course. They had been booked in her name. Someone had reported her to the British. There had been people inside the bureau that had known. So, someone could have found out when she was flying, and where, and informed . . . who? Who was behind this? Why would anyone try to keep her from finding Elliot so badly they were ready to assassinate her? It seemed radical.
Of course, she knew nothing about the enemy. Some people were simply radical in their ways, but those were terrorists or criminal organizations. Why would any of them be interested in Elliot? All of that might depend on what it actually was that Elliot was after this time. The last time, she had dragged him into an investigation of strange ruins in the eternal ice. But his true passion was the legacy of his mentor and father figure, Professor Teller: the man who had died in these ancient ruins inside the Himalaya, where they had encountered the leftovers of a civilization so ancient, their whole existence would make an entire rewrite of human history necessary. These Ancients were his obsession. So, maybe he was after them once again? Possibly.
The alternative was, that he helped his ex-wife with something she had encountered, something that was important enough for him to hurry to her side. Did she still mean something to him? Ashra knew the question was important, but it was a little bit more personal for her, too. She had no claim to Elliot. Not after leaving him in this market in Karachi, because duty had called. Antarctica hadn’t changed that, despite everything they had been through together.
Ashra absently saw everybody who entered from the corners of her eyes. So, she didn’t miss Rupert Miller walk in, ignoring the line and potential of a coffee, and make his way over to her. Opening the button of his jacket he sat down and sent an arrogant smile her way.
“Enjoying your coffee and freedom, I hope?” he asked.
“Actually, I’m trying to make sense of all of this,” Ashra said, taking the coffee in both hands and slowly guiding it to her lips.
“Well, maybe the professor can help with it. Professor Ishimura wasn’t hard to find. Her university has funded an expedition and she has submitted regular reports. Apparently, she has fought for years to follow this lead she had on an ancient civilization in South America.”
“Do we know where in South America?”
“Ecuador.” Rupert leaned back. “I got a plane tanked as we speak. Direct flight. No economy class and miles on this one.” He gave her a laugh, as if he had said something funny.
“Do you know anything about this ancient civilization she was looking for?”
“I must say, I didn’t ask. Let’s leave the archeology to those guys and we’ll make sure no harm comes to them.”
“I think the best way to do so is understanding what’s going on here. Which we could probably do, if we had more information.”
Rupert looked at her for a long moment as if he evaluated her words. “We’ll leave in two hours. I know only the airport she used and which city she travelled to from there, so we’ll need to ask some locals where she went next. But anyway, if you’re so interested, I’ll make another call and get the application she must have submitted to acquire funding for her mission.” He stroked his jacket straight and then looked at Ashra. “You still have feelings for Professor Elliot Brand, don’t you? I know you two have been romantically involved. Or was that just another mission?”
“No, that was private. And it still is.” Ashra emptied her coffee.
“That’s kind of fascinating. You’re still young. How long have you been in the business?”
“Joined the army at eighteen and the service at twenty-two. Which was . . . four years ago.” Ashra bit her lip. She knew she wasn’t exactly a senior agent.
“I read your file. You know? Nobody can doubt your competence. You’re smart, can handle yourself in a fight, very beautiful and young enough not to draw attention. Nobody thinks a beautiful woman is a spy. Got it. Good cover. But you’re still naive. Ashra, I’ll tell you a secret I learned in my twelve years of service. We don’t have privacy. We do have secrets, but privacy we don’t have. Our governments own us. No matter how much we feel that’s not true, fact is, the moment we entered this business we signed away our lives.” He leaned forward. “So, if you have feelings for the man we’re trying to find and to protect, that’s relevant information and I need to know. I won’t judge you. I won’t think less of you. But I need to know.”
Ashra’s eyes couldn’t leave his. Actually, she understood him better than he thought. After spending months in that office, after leaving the man she loved for her job, she understood perfectly well what he meant. She felt owned by them.
“We’ve broken up, but I’m still fond of him. Yes.”
Rupert gave her a grateful look. “Thanks for the honesty. Then I’ll get my stuff and we’ll meet at the airfield. I have a driver outside ready to get you there.” The British spy stood up and looked around, as he pulled his suit back into position.
“See you at the airfield,” Ashra replied.
Watching him leave, she decided she would have a second white chocolate mocha, simply because she had nothing else to do. All her stuff was here in that bag. All she had to do was board the plane and pass another ocean to another continent. South America. Truth was, she had an idea why Elliot was there. He had mentioned ruins of an old city he would like to visit. Something that could possibly be connected to his research. She wished she had listened more closely, but he had always talked about leads and places where he wanted to look.
Getting back into the line to get her second coffee, she let her thoughts wander to her new ally. She couldn’t say she trusted him, but in their line of work, that was probably not expected or even necessary. He had found Elliot much faster than her. Now, they would need to be more careful not to be followed. They would need to make sure they weren’t leading whoever the enemy was to Elliot.
“Don’t turn.” The voice came from behind. She recognized it—it was the voice she had heard on the phone when she had spoken to the embassy.
“If you’ve come to bust me out, you’re a little late,” Ashra said, turning her head only halfway around, without looking at him.
“I realized that. Looks like our friends from MI6 have recruited you.”
“They’re after the same thing we are after. Only, they’ve got a few more bucks and bangs.”
“Are they? After the same thing we are? The director sent me to give you a message.”
Ashra nodded. “I’m listening.”
“The leak is on their side,” was all he had to say. She heard the man leave, as it was her turn at the counter.
“What can I do for you?” the barista asked.
“White chocolate mocha,” Ashra said, ripping herself out of her thoughts.
“Your name?” the barista asked. She wondered why she wanted to know, but then saw the pen and the cup. Of course, the drinks were sorted by names. She had missed that the first time somehow.
“Ashley,” Ashra lied, and smiled.
Her world had just become more complicated.
****
They were flying with a private jet, that was registered to a company on the British Virgin Islands. The interior was luxurious, with white leather seats, mahogany tables and indirect lightning between the large seats.
“Okay, you guys got a different budget than we do.” Ashra laughed.
“Belonged to an oligarch who is on the embargo list. We thought we might put it to good use,” Rupert said as he entered. He threw his black leather bag—they called those ‘weekenders’ Ashra believed—on a seat. He had changed out of his very formal three-piece suit, into a lighter beige summer suit, with no tie. “Not one of ours, doesn’t show in our records.”
“Smart. Hard to locate. Out of the books. So, you’re concerned about anything?” Ashra sat in one of her seats.
“Well, you must have already figured out there was a leak on your side or ours. I suspect yours. Ninety percent sure it was yours. Ten percent is too much to take a risk. So, I kept this one quiet.” Miller sat down opposite her. “Nobody knows where we go—or how. We’re completely under the radar. I only informed our local station chief.”
Ashra gave him an appreciating nod. It was a relief that he had taken measures for them not to be followed; she wondered if he had told her everything though. Ashra buckled up and he did the same.
“So, share your thoughts. Who is it, who is after Elliot? And me? What is your theory?” Ashra asked.
“I’ve given that some thought. We got an ID on the man who tried to kill you. Andrew Shaw. Indeed, an Irish citizen with links to local terror groups, but over the last few years, he’s been best known as a gun-for-hire. He seemed to have been paid through a crypto wallet, using bitcoin. The payment happened a day before your arrival, which was about the time we were informed about your travel plans.” Rupert looked aside as the airplane began to roll into starting position.
“So, was he flown in on short notice?” Ashra wondered.
“No, he seems to have been in London.”
“How convenient.”
“What we got here is someone who knows the location of an assassin, even though these guys do their utmost not to be found or located. I’d say we’re talking about organized crime or . . . my money would be it’s a government. An intelligence agency has arranged for your murder.” Rupert folded his hands over his belly.
“Did MI6 know where he was?”
“That would be classified, but actually . . . no, I don’t think so.”
“Well, it still makes no sense.” Ashra shook her head.
“Let’s hope they now are in the dark and we can get Professor Brand safely back home.”
“Is that your mission? Get him back?”
“Yes, the British government would like to know he’s safely within our reach, until we know who sends assassins after his ex.” Rupert shrugged then looked at Ashra. The airplane was taking off, but neither of them gave it much attention.
“Your turn,” Rupert then said.
“I’ve been thinking about what Elliot is doing in South America. Have you got information from Professor Ishimura’s university?”
“Oh yes, that one was simple. Always cooperative, our friends in Japan. She has applied for several funds that finance expeditions and submitted papers. It seems, a couple of years ago, some ruins from a yet unknown . . . tribe . . . if that is the right term . . . of indigenous people were found. Pretty large. Actually, everything there was oversized. They called it the Lost City of Giants. Professor Ishimura was convinced that there’s more hidden in the region and applied for the financing of an extended search mission, using modern technology. Actually, she planned to use a drone and surveillance system that can map the area that Professor Brand has helped develop. The system cost her half a million.” Rupert’s eyes rested on her. “That’s not new to you, is it?”
“The part about Professor Ishimura is, but the city Elliot mentioned once. It has recently been found. He . . . was interested in the entire thing.” Ashra tried to remember what he said. “But why this urgency? He left on short notice, and he tried to make it a secret where he was going.”
“Well, obviously he knew someone was after him. He reported a break-in into his office. We checked it and guess what we found? It was bugged.”
Ashra couldn’t help but look surprised. “Someone was spying on him?”
“Yes, looks like it.” Rupert nodded. “So, I guess he tried to shake those interested parties off.”
“They get an assassin to kill me? We miss a piece here.”
“Clearly we do.” Rupert sighed.
“Okay, that was good work, if I may say so. Really good work.” Ashra put her seat into a more comfortable position.
“Thanks.” Rupert leaned over to his bag and opened it. Grappling inside, he withdrew a black box and handed it to Ashra. She leaned forward and saw the initials of a German weapons manufacturer on it.
“For me?” Ashra asked.
“Unregistered. 9mm, as you prefer.”
“Thanks. You have my favorite weapon in your files?” Ashra laughed. “Seem to be extensive files you keep on me.”
“Well, the entire Pakistan affair caught our attention.”
“When did you read my file?” Ashra opened the box. She took out the handgun and grabbed one of two magazines, sliding it into the grip.
“Does it matter?”
“Everything matters. It’s always the details. I mean, you were incredibly quick at the police station. When you showed up there, you had already read it.” Ashra loaded the gun through and took the second magazine out of the box, laying both on the table. Rupert looked at it.
“When I started looking into Brand, I had a student telling me he told him that he was going to his ex. So, we looked what we had on her. We assumed it was you. Like you did. Seems we were wrong.” Rupert looked at the gun. “That was when I read your file.”
“Makes sense.”
“Glad it does. Now, I’ve got a question for you.”
“Go ahead.”
“How did you and Professor Brand meet?”
“Nothing in your files?” Ashra laughed at him.
“No; we became aware of you when you moved to London with him. It seems you two were already romantically involved at that point.” Rupert tilted his head slightly. “I know he was in Nepal, so I assume you met there.”
“Yes, I helped him track down his old mentor.” Ashra took the gun and put it into her jacket. Then she stowed the extra magazine in her jeans.
“Why?”
“A billionaire named Kjelt Lindfors asked my government to assist in that matter. I assume he bribed my uncle. He’s—”
“I know who your uncle is. So why was Kjelt Lindfors helping Elliot Brand?”
“He wanted Professor Teller’s research. He had the opinion he owned it somehow.” Ashra leaned forward.
“The same research that Professor Brand is working on now, right?”
Ashra nodded and pressed her lips together. “He would have the money to hire someone, but I doubt he has the contacts.”
“You can buy people with the right contacts,” Rupert replied dryly. “Once we land, I’ll have our bureau in London look into him.”
“Yes, maybe a good idea.” Ashra hadn’t even considered him as an option but, thinking about it, the billionaire she had never met was probably a suspect.
“We should try to get some sleep. We’ll need all the energy we can get, once we arrive,” Rupert said.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Ashra closed her eyes and leaned back. Her seat hummed as it was brought into a backwards position. Her hand slid into her jacket, and her fingers closed around the cool grip of the gun.
Rupert had been right. Men saw a beautiful young woman and they considered her to be no danger. Most often, they assumed she was even stupid. Rupert certainly thought her to be incompetent. Of course, he did. An agent of the mighty MI6 wouldn’t think highly of a small agency, like the one she came from. That, and the fact she was still young, had been enough to make her an amateur in his eyes.
That was why he had tried the old tricks. The gun was meant to give her a sense of security. The information was meant to build trust. He had excellent reasons why he had studied her file. The only mistake he had made was showing up so quickly at the police station. He probably had been afraid that her own people would be faster. Gaining her trust began by getting her out of there.
Ashra was pretty sure she was sitting in a plane with the man who had sent the assassin and the same man who had been spying on Elliot. Ashra was pretty sure Rupert Miller was her enemy.
Chapter 6
The first two things Ashra picked up on were the bright lights of the afternoon sun and the humid heat. It was a private airfield. That was what Rupert had called it, and it was little more than a landing strip in the jungle. Everywhere around them, walls of green rose up: tangled trees, ferns, and grass so high you could easily hide in it. Birds chirped. In less than fifteen seconds, Ashra felt the sting of a mosquito on her neck. She clapped it and looked at Rupert, who came down the stairs from the jet, putting sunglasses on his nose. Ashra wished she had brought sunglasses herself.
A black SUV stood next to the airfield, with a man in his early thirties leaning against it. He was wearing short trousers and a polo shirt. He pushed himself off the car and strolled in their direction, as the engines died down. He had a well-groomed, three-day beard and wiped his black hair back, before putting on his straw hat. Ashra let Rupert take the lead and he stepped forth to greet the man.
“Rupert Miller, from Central.” Rupert extended his hand to the man. “This is Ashra Shah, a cooperation partner from the Nepal Bureau of Investigation.”
The man took off his sunglasses, clipped them to his polo shirt and took Rupert’s hand. “Matt Moore, from the local bureau. Had to drive all night to make it in time. But pleased to meet you.” He turned to Ashra and shook her hand too. A firm grip.
“Where exactly are we?” Ashra asked.
“Far away from any support. Three miles from Limoncocha,” Matt explained and pointed south.
“Where are you based?” Rupert asked, as he put his bag over his shoulder and began making his way to the SUV.
