Hunter Killer - Alex King Series 12 (2021), A BATEMAN [urban books to read TXT] 📗

“You didn’t take French at school?” Caroline smiled, but did not wait for her to answer. “Well, there’s no need for paranoia, my dear. I wasn’t talking about you.” She paused and shrugged like it was tedious and of no consequence. “Our colleague commented with the statement; the cat fight…”

Thorpe shrugged. “Well, maybe we got off to a bad start? I apologise for my part.”

Caroline smiled like she was blissfully unaware of any animosity. “No need. My reply to him was that it was barely a purr…” She paused. “And that my claws haven’t even come out yet…”

Thorpe regarded her closely but did not reply. Instead, she tried to save face by saying to Ramsay, “This problem in Italy, do you have any suggestions?”

Ramsay seemed bemused, having watched the passive-aggressive exchange. He’d known Caroline for long enough to know that Sally-Anne Thorpe’s card had been marked from the moment she had criticised King. He had felt for some time that the team needed clearer remits and a code of conduct that could not simply be brushed aside when situations got tough, but he could already see that the former detective inspector’s presence was going to be provocative at best.

“Giuseppe Fortez has used a former associate to make tentative enquiries regarding hiring an assassin. It is clear from this information that the man is no longer in a position of power and that he does not have men to call upon. Last autumn, five men were at his disposal to travel here and hunt for King. Now he has nobody. A rival mafia family moved in on his assets and his men were either recruited or killed.” Ramsay paused. “His being able to settle in Lake Como is both a mark of professional courtesy, and one of humiliation. You can take it as either, but as a mafia head, he’s done. He has nobody to perform this act of vendetta for him.”

“Who is the associate with the computer skills?” Caroline asked.

“Milo Noventa,” Thorpe replied. “By all accounts, a weasel of a man who is half Italian, half English. He lives in Switzerland on Lake Geneva.” She paused. “Educated at a string of private schools, generally because of his father’s work around Europe. He excelled in computers and communications, specialising in internet finance and security. Fortez used him to hide money, though not very well because he lost a great deal to the rival gang. Fortez transferred two-hundred-thousand euros to Noventa earlier this week.”

“His fee, or for that of an assassin?” asked Big Dave.

“His own fee, or part of the fee for certain,” Ramsay replied. “Noventa has set this up within the dark web, and he created a modular surface email account for the assassin to contact him directly, which would enable him to vet the applicants, leaving Fortez out of the mix, although Fortez does want final approval, so he’s willing to give Noventa some free rein, which works for us. The surface email has software and malware written in and bounces itself between thousands of IP addresses bought from Russian black hatters in internet scams. There’s no tracing Fortez from it alone, but we found out about this from Interpol from the other end. The Swiss police were monitoring Milo Noventa for money laundering through Bitcoin.”

“And Interpol are running an entrapment with just the Italian police?” Caroline asked. “Surely the Swiss police should be involved as well?”

“That is where I come in,” Durand said quietly. “The Swiss and Italians haven’t had the best record of working well together in the past. There is still much government and police corruption in Italy, whereas the Swiss judicial machine moves as smoothly and reliably as one of their Rolex watch movements. The temperaments are different, too. No, Interpol have managed to wrangle this off the Italians and the Swiss and it will work better as a single entity, but with their input.”

“But you are here, so it is now a partnership with MI5,” Caroline said emphatically.

“No, Interpol will be calling the shots. The Security Service have been read in, but you are here for advisement and courtesy only.”

“Bullshit!” Caroline snapped. “I was affected by the last attempt made on Alex’s life. Believe me, I’ve spent months recovering. I’ve had to move home, and now I’m being told to move again!”

“Nevertheless, Interpol are best suited for this,” said Thorpe. “For practical reasons, the Security Service being read into the investigation gives you a heads up, Caroline. You can stay in the loop and lay low if Fortez is successful securing an assassin.”

Caroline stared at Thorpe and said, “I’m not prone to laying low when someone is out to kill my partner. I was drawn into this last year when someone used me to get to King. It won’t happen again.”

Chapter Thirteen

 

CWO (Clandestine Warfare Office)

CIA Headquarters, Langley

Virginia

 

“Are you saying we lost them?”

“It’s a submarine, that’s what they’re designed to do.”

“Don’t get glib with me, Becker.” Lefkowitz paused. “You’re in that chair because I put you in it. I can take you out of it just as swiftly, though far more publicly.”

Becker flushed red and nodded, looked back down at the file in front of him. “Yes, Sir, off the coast of Senegal, near the Cape Verde Islands…”

Director Lefkowitz looked at the man beside him. “And the intel fits?”

Admiral Casey nodded. The sight of the man beside him hooked up to a drip of amber liquid was somewhat intimidating. His nurse had been security cleared and signed up to accompany him throughout his treatment. She looked on unperturbed, caring only for her patient and not for the secrets inside the anteroom. “It does, Sir. As we know Iran has two branches of navy. The Islamic of Iran Navy and the Islamic Revolutionary Guards Corps Navy. They command a large submarine force, but no nuclear-powered subs, and none