London shook her head, eyes glued to the phone, fingers banging at the screen.Who is this?
A response came back immediately.Keep your phone on for further messages. Others are now involved.
Please. Who is this?she typed once more.
No further text came back.
“Shaka is out,” she said.
“I heard.”
“Do you believe it?”
Simon didn’t answer, his expression saying enough.
“He can’t be, I mean…” London trailed off, shamed by her boasts about her countrymen’s incorruptibility. “Of course, you’re right. We have to believe it.”
“These people,” said Simon. “Borgia, Prato Bornum, they mean business.”
“What does he mean, ‘others are now involved’?” London asked.
“Not sure,” said Simon. “We have to assume that Gabriel is a friend. My guess is that he is an intelligence professional.”
“From where? Singapore?”
“Right now it doesn’t matter. What’s important is that he or they know about Borgia.”
“But how?”
“There’s always a way, London. You know that.” Simon motioned toward the security line. “Let’s make our way to the gate. I’ll feel better once we’re there.”
London began to check around her. “This is the airport. There are police everywhere.”
“Lester said that Prato Bornum came from all levels of government, business, the military. If Gabriel is correct about Shaka having been released from jail, it’s not a big leap to imagine someone helping him get into the airport. It’s not like there’s only one way in and out.”
“You’re scaring me.”
“That makes two of us.”
“What are you going to do if you see him?”
“Let’s go,” said Simon. The fact was, he had no idea.
They reached their gate fifteen minutes later. Most of the passengers had already arrived. Seating in the waiting area was limited. Simon led them to a far corner against the windows. Their aircraft, an Airbus 380, the largest commercial airliner in service, seemed almost to press itself against the glass. Simon surveyed the area, then excused himself to place a call, moving several strides away. He checked his watch. Four thirty in London. Harry Mason answered on the first ring.
“There you are.”
“Thought I’d better check in.”
“Glad you did. Just got off the phone with Lucy’s clinic.”
“Is she all right?”
“Doing a bit better, actually, last I heard. But I wasn’t talking to the doctors. Billing.”
“Christ.” More jolly news.
“They wanted to let you know that they’ll be needing another fifty thousand pounds at the end of the month. Sooner if possible. Do you have it?”
