The Rift Rachel Lynch (epub e ink reader .txt) 📖

under the Geneva Convention, but changes to counter terrorism laws in recent years meant that certain exceptions applied, and here in France, they were more fluid than in the UK.

‘We’ll go in together and squeeze them both,’ Sylvia said.

‘What about the goods at the warehouse?’ Helen asked. She and Grant had followed the lorry all the way from Marseilles to Lyon, and she was desperate to know what was inside.

‘We can’t wait any longer to go ahead and raid it. It needs to be done today. Surveillance has reported little activity there. It doesn’t appear to have been moved or unloaded,’ said Sylvia.

‘And the Mercedes?’ Helen asked.

‘Nothing yet. Helen, you said armed drones? What damage can they do?’ Sylvia asked.

‘I’ve got to say, they’ve developed at lightning speed over the last couple of years and I’m not up to date,’ Peter said.

But Helen was, thanks to an interesting conversation with Grant, in the car from Marseilles. ‘As far as I’m aware, even a lightweight drone of five kilos can carry a payload of double that. My guess is explosives, but if the target is Versailles, then I can’t think how they’d get them anywhere close. There’s no way drones could be flown undetected from outside the grounds. Security round the estate is tighter than ever after last year’s train bomb in Madrid. The airspace is closed for three miles and they have armed snipers on the roofs. The only way a drone can be effectively stopped is by deploying nets. Gunfire simply won’t work – the target is too small and mobile. The best snipers in the world would be hard pushed to successfully bring one down. We’ve got to assume that the objective is to take out a major head of state. I have to throw in my opinion here. Peter, it could be the UK prime minister, as well as his ambassador in Paris.’

‘Sir Conrad?’

She nodded. ‘The motive being the death of Fawaz’s son, Rafik, while being interrogated in Morocco. The current prime minister signed the order as the then Home Secretary. Sir Conrad signed the extradition paper, essentially condemning the young man to death.’

‘You’ve spoken to him about this?’ Peter asked.

Helen shook her head. ‘I’ve got a technical issue, Peter. My line manager in Paris is being obstructive. He doesn’t like me, plainly put. I haven’t been able to access Sir Conrad’s office.’

‘Why doesn’t he like you, the arse?’ Peter asked. Sylvia snorted.

‘I seem to remember spurning his affections,’ Helen replied. She could see Sylvia out of the corner of her eye.

Peter tutted. ‘Military men,’ he said. His phone rang. It was a brief, tense conversation and he hung up with a sigh.

‘That was Special Agent Roy White, in charge of security around Versailles for the summit.’

‘I met him,’ Helen said. ‘The ambassador sent me to liaise with him and report back to him confidentially about the measures in place. I did so, they’re excellent.’

‘But without the knowledge of a possible drone strike. This changes everything for them,’ Peter said. ‘He’s demanding a report to be discussed this afternoon so he can brief the FBI chief, who reports to the president.’

‘It’s time to bring in Khalil Dalmani and his head of security,’ Peter said. This is what Helen had been expecting, and she’d left Grant in her flat, cooking eggs, awaiting such a call.

‘Khalil is the only one who has been contacted by Fawaz – we need all of his cell phones, not just a handful of numbers, and addresses of warehouses and any information he gave to him,’ Peter said.

‘I’ve already explained that to his head of security. He needs reassurance from us that this will be handled well. He’s under no illusion that if we fail to find Hakim before Fawaz realises that he’s compromised, then it’s all over. However, Khalil has been convinced by his head of security that this is the only way forward. They’ve done a sterling job under their own steam, but they need our help, and we theirs. The appeal for Fawaz has already had some results – I’ve been sent four possibles that appear interesting and plausible,’ Helen said.

‘Right, let’s get on with it,’ Peter said. ‘Sylvia?’ He handed over to her.

She introduced a plan for a three-pronged attack.

‘Our priority is finding Hakim, let’s all be clear about that,’ she said. ‘There’ll be a sweep of the Le Croix-Rousse area this morning, involving two hundred officers. We’ll concentrate on addresses unregistered to real people with a formal identity footprint, as well as around the addresses we’ve searched so far. We’re no further towards finding out where Madame Bisset went, and we can only assume that Fawaz got to her via Jean-Luc somehow.’

Helen tensed. She didn’t think Peter or Sylvia noticed. Grant had confirmed to her that he had indeed been the six-foot Caucasian to move her. Helen kept this information to herself for now. Grant had shared his assessment of the old woman, and if she could be as calculating as he described, then making her a priority could jeopardise their efforts prematurely by her getting a message to Fawaz somehow; she was better off under the watchful eye of Grant’s pal.

Sylvia moved on. ‘Peter will fly to Paris,’ she said. ‘There, he’ll hold talks with Special Agent White.’

‘Sir, do I have your permission to handle Khalil’s head of security on our behalf? I’ll take care of it. I know him, he’s ex-military,’ Helen asked.

‘Do it,’ he said.

‘Get what we need. You’ll also be coordinating the hunt for Hakim here in Lyon. You’ve got twelve hours, then you’ll be expected in Paris,’ Sylvia finished.

Helen felt Sylvia’s eyes bore into her. Their conversation about Grant Tennyson was not lost on either of them.

‘Good,’ Peter said.

Helen knew that to be trusted on both counts was a massive responsibility, as well as an opportunity to prove herself to everyone involved. Peter busied himself with gathering his notes, and Helen checked her notifications on her phone.

Sylvia came towards her and lowered her head,