Page 60 of End Game

‘And somebody obviously has,’ said Robert.

‘I think it’s just possible,’ said Arte, ‘that my Frenchman and his Russian girlfriend have booked tickets on the same bus.’

‘Then it’s possible,’ said Robert, ‘they’ve decided to talk.’

‘And it also suggests that Kelly knows exactly what I’ve been up to, but then I suspect I didn’t fool her in the first place.’

‘Perhaps she hopes you’ll be the one person who could expose the Russians, and that would be an exclusive.’

‘But do I tell my editor what I’m on to?’ asked Artemisia.

Robert considered the question for some time before he offered an opinion. ‘If I were you, I’d get the story sewn up before you tell anyone.’

‘And your reason, O wise one?’

‘If he thinks the story is big enough, he might hand it over to an old hack,’ said Robert. ‘And if you discover there just isn’t a story, as you did with Annie, then it would be best to remain shtum.’

‘Good thinking,’ said Artemisia, still clinging onto the ticket. In fact, she didn’t let it out of her sight until they went to bed and Robert had turned out the light. She lay awake wondering: exclusive, or just another Annie?

CHAPTER 20

Friday, 3 Aug – day 8 of the Games

‘WHO’D GET THE GOLD MEDALfor causing the most trouble at these Games?’ asked Paul, as he put down the phone.

‘It would be a close-run thing between the Chinese and the Russians,’ said Jackie, as she selected a stale ham sandwich.

‘Well, I think you’ll find that the Russians have just taken the lead.’

‘What are they claiming this time?’ asked Jackie, after taking a bite.

‘That someone took a shot at their coach when they were driving towards the stadium, but as I’m likely to lose my temper with them,’ said Paul, ‘it might be wise for you to come along and hold my hand.’

‘When you say coach,’ said Jackie, abandoning her half-eaten sandwich, ‘do you mean a human or a vehicle?’

‘Both,’ said Paul, ‘but I can’t make up my mind if I should brief the Commander.’

‘I think he’s got enough on his plate at the moment,’ Jackie said.

‘Agreed,’ said Paul, as he quickly left the Gold Suite, with Jackie in his wake.

Paul had worked out in the first week that if you hung around waiting for the lift, it took at least another twenty-four seconds of precious time, and even longer on the way down. Six times a day on average meant five minutes wasted every day, and over the two weeks of the Games, that would add up. Paul didn’t have one and a half hours to waste.

They jogged up the steps and out of the building onto Olympic Way, where they couldn’t miss a coach that was parked a few hundred yards away in the middle of the road with no driver behind the wheel. An irate-looking man, arms folded, was perched on the front bumper.

‘I don’t hear the sound of an ambulance,’ said Jackie, cupping a hand to her ear.

‘Because, fortunately, no one was injured,’ said Paul, as they walked slowly towards the waiting man.

‘Or a siren to suggest a police car is on its way to apprehend the villain who carried out such an audacious crime in broad daylight,’ said Jackie. ‘Or any independent witnesses to back up their story.’

‘They must have got away scot-free,’ said Paul, as he approached the man, who resembled a heavyweight boxer waiting for the referee to ring the bell for the opening round so he could land the first punch. He stepped forward when they were just a few paces away.

‘Don’t say a word,’ said Paul. ‘Leave the talking to me.’

‘Understood,’ said Jackie.

‘Good morning, sir,’ said Paul, as he came to a halt infront of the man, who towered above him and looked as if he’d already gone three rounds. ‘What seems to be the problem?’