Ivory Nation, Andy Maslen [e manga reader .txt] 📗
- Author: Andy Maslen
Book online «Ivory Nation, Andy Maslen [e manga reader .txt] 📗». Author Andy Maslen
19
The following morning, Eli knocked on Stella’s door. Stella came to open it, phone clamped between cheek and shoulder. She smiled at Eli and pointed to an armchair.
Eli listened to one side of the conversation.
—
‘Yes, boss.’
—
‘Nothing we couldn’t handle.’
—
‘It doesn’t mean anything. Just a figure of speech.’
—
‘I’m making a start first thing tomorrow.’
—
‘I’ll try the big hotels first. Chat up the bar staff.’
—
‘OK, I promise.’
—
Stella ended the call.
‘Hey, Eli,’ she said. ‘That was my guv’nor, back in London. She just wanted a progress report. I had something I wanted to ask you.’
‘Go ahead. This whole trip’s about mutual assistance,’ Eli said with a smile.
‘Is there any way you can tap your old contacts in the Israeli intelligence community to find out more about Dov Lieberman? He’s the one concrete lead I have.’
Eli answered immediately
‘Of course! I’ll call Uri Ziff. He’s my old guv’nor,’ she said, uttering the last sentence with a dreadful Cockney accent that made Stella laugh.
‘Thanks? Coffee?’
Eli nodded, already calling Ziff’s number.
‘Eliyah! How’s my favourite expat? When can I tell our human resources people to find you a flat in Tel Aviv?’
Eli laughed.
‘You never give up, do you? The answer to your first question is, fine. I’m in Africa, with Gabriel. The answer to the second is, not yet.’
‘No? OK then. So why the call? Not that I’m not happy to hear your voice,’ he added. ‘It’s about the assassination.’
Eli had no need to ask which one. Only one recent killing had gone viral so fast it had travelled round the globe before the sound of the gunshot had died away.
‘He’s insane, you know that?’ Uri asked.
‘Tammerlane?’
‘Yes, Tammerlane!’ Uri paused. ‘I’m sorry, Eliyah. It’s been a trying few days, as you can probably imagine.’
‘It’s fine. I get it. But he’s not mad. Just very, very dangerous.’
‘Yes! For Jews! He’s begun kicking us out. First Israeli citizens, but then, who knows?’
‘And I’m ready to go, Uri, believe me. I’m not going back to the UK. Not while he’s in power.’
Uri huffed out an irritable sound.
‘You’ll have a long wait, then.’
‘So be it. But that wasn’t why I called. Not precisely. There’s something fishy about the whole business.’
‘You think?’
The exasperation in Uri’s voice was tangible.
‘You’ve been looking at Lieberman.’
A statement, not a question. Eli knew what her old employer would be doing, regardless of any investigations conducted by the police or Shin Bet, the internal security service.
‘Of course. It’s early days, but we think we’re onto something.’
‘What?’
‘Oh, Eliyah! If only you worked for me, I could share all our intelligence with you in a morning briefing. But you work for the Brits now, don’t you? This is sensitive stuff.’
‘Uri Ziff!’ she said with mock outrage. ‘How could you play that card with me? Especially when I am in Africa helping a Metropolitan Police detective chief inspector work the case.’
Uri sighed.
‘Strictly confidential, yes? I’m treating you as an employee on temporary sabbatical in the UK, yes?’
‘Thanks, Uri. I won’t let you down.’
‘You’d better not! So, here’s what we know. Lieberman is – was – a physics teacher at David Ben Gurion High School in Haifa. After completing his military service in the IDF, where he gained a qualification as a designated marksman, he returned to civilian life and did a teaching degree at Tel Aviv University.’
‘Which is all great background, but—’
‘Don’t be so impatient! It was always your one weakness,’ Uri said. ‘Ten days ago, his wife and children went missing. He kept it quiet but we talked to her employer and the children’s school. No sign of them ever since. No CCTV, no airline tickets bought with her credit card, no passport scans at any border crossing or port or airports, nothing.’
Eli connected the dots at lightning speed.
‘He was being coerced. They kidnapped his family, threatened to kill them unless he did the hit.’
‘Impatient, yes, but also a quick study. That’s our working assumption, too.’
‘Do you buy the idea of Tammerlane just happening by at the right time to kill him?’
Uri sighed. Eli caught the familiar scratch of his big hand scrubbing at his stubbly jaw.
‘It’s a possibility. Our analysts are divided. Personally, I think it stinks.’
‘Me too. Here’s something in return. My contact here told us the British cops found some soil specks in the sniper nest.’
‘And they’re African.’
‘Ha! I’m not the only quick study. Yes, they’re from Botswana.’
‘What was Lieberman doing in Botswana?’
‘That’s what our friend from the Met,’ Eli smiled at Stella, ‘wants to find out.’
The call with Uri finished, Eli invited Stella to join her and Gabriel in their room to discuss an idea for the next day’s activities.
20
The following morning, Stella pulled up at the tree-shaded front gate of the Sir Seretse Khama Barracks on Monganaokodu Road. She killed the Toyota’s engine as the soldier on the gate strolled over from his post, AK-47 held nonchalantly at his hip.
‘Yes, madam,’ he said. No smile. The suspicious look of military base gate guards the world over.
‘Carl Jensen and Rachel Camaro to see Major Modimo,’ she said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder, where Gabriel and Eli sat in the centre row of seats.
‘Who are you?’ he asked her.
‘Security.’
He glanced at the bulge on her right hip beneath her untucked shirt. She’d strapped a zipped nylon pouch onto her belt earlier and the effect was convincing.
‘They have an appointment?’ he asked, apparently satisfied by her one-word answer.
‘At ten.’
‘Wait here,’ he said. ‘Please,’ he added, as if he realised he’d forgotten his manners.
Stella watched him enter a tiny brick kiosk and pick up a phone. He emerged a couple of minutes later.
‘Park over there,’ he instructed her, gesturing with the muzzle of his AK towards a red-earth square fronting an office building. ‘Major Modimo’s office is inside.’
He walked back to the barrier and pushed on the
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