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Never(220)

Author:Ken Follett

An elegantly dressed secretary came in with a bottle of champagne and four glasses on a tray. Tab said: ‘A little celebration – French style.’ He uncorked the bottle and poured.

‘To our hero,’ Tamara said, and they all drank.

Abdul sensed that the relationship between Tamara and Tab had changed since the day he had met them on the shore of Lake Chad. If he was right, and if they were a couple now, he wanted to get them to talk about it. It was sure to soften their reaction to the demand he was about to make. He smiled and said: ‘Are you two an item now?’

Tamara said: ‘Yes,’ and they both looked pleased.

Abdul said: ‘But working for the intelligence services of different nations . . .’

Tab said: ‘I’ve resigned. I’m working out my notice. I’m going back to France to work in my family’s business.’

Tamara said: ‘And I’ve applied for a transfer to the CIA station in Paris. Phil Doyle has approved my request.’

Tab added: ‘And my boss, Marcel Lavenu, has recommended Tamara to the CIA chief there, who is a friend of his.’

‘I wish you well,’ said Abdul. ‘You’re both so handsome, you’ll have the most beautiful children.’

They looked awkward, and Tamara said: ‘I didn’t say we were getting married.’

Abdul was embarrassed. ‘How old-fashioned of me to make that assumption. I apologize.’

‘No need,’ said Tab. ‘It just hasn’t come up, is all.’

Tamara changed the subject quickly. ‘And now, if you’re ready, we’ll take you back to N’Djamena.’

Abdul did not say anything.

She added: ‘I’m afraid they want to debrief you exhaustively. It may take a few days. But then you’re entitled to a long holiday.’

Here we go, Abdul thought.

‘I’m happy to do the debrief, of course,’ he said. It was not true, but he had to pretend. ‘And I’m looking forward to the holiday. But the mission isn’t over yet.’

‘Isn’t it?’

‘I’d like to try to pick up the trail again. The consignment isn’t in Tripoli – I’ve checked on the tracking device. So it has almost certainly crossed the Mediterranean.’

Tamara said: ‘Abdul, you’ve done enough.’

Tab said: ‘Anyway, it could have landed anywhere in southern Europe, from Gibraltar to Athens. That’s thousands of miles of coastline.’

‘But some places are likelier than others,’ Abdul argued. ‘The south of France, for example, has a long-established infrastructure for the import and distribution of drugs.’

‘Still a big area to search.’

‘Not really. If I drive along that coast road – the Corniche, I think it’s called – I may pick up the signal. Then we could find out who is at the very end of the cocaine trail. It’s an opportunity too good to miss.’

Jean-Pierre Malmain said: ‘We’re not here to catch drug dealers. We’re after terrorists.’

‘But Europe is where the money comes from,’ Abdul persisted. ‘The whole operation is ultimately financed by kids who buy dope in clubs. Any damage we can do at the French end will damage ISGS’s entire smuggling enterprise – which is probably worth more to them even than the gold mine at Hufra.’

Malmain said dismissively: ‘The decision must obviously be made by our superiors.’

Abdul shook his head. ‘We can’t afford to lose the time. The radio transmitters will be discovered when they start to open the sacks of cocaine. This may have happened already, but if not – if we’re lucky – it could be any day now. I want to leave for France tomorrow.’

‘I can’t authorize that.’

‘I’m not asking you to. It’s covered by my original orders. If I’m wrong, I’ll be recalled from France. But I’m going.’

Malmain shrugged, giving in.

Tamara said: ‘Abdul, is there anything you need from us right now?’

‘Yes.’ This was the delicate part, but he had thought about how he would phrase his demand. He patted his pockets, looking for a pen, but realized he had got out of the habit of carrying one. ‘Would someone let me have a pencil and a sheet of paper, please?’

Malmain got up. While he was fetching the writing materials, Abdul said: ‘When I got away from Hufra, two of the slaves escaped with me, a woman and a child, illegal migrants. I’ve been using them as a cover, pretending we’re a family. It’s a perfect legend and I’d like to continue with it.’