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Chapters (124)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Acclaim for Frank Gardner’s Luke Carlton thrillers
  4. Also by Frank Gardner
  5. Dedication
  6. Epigraph
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. 67
  74. 68
  75. 69
  76. 70
  77. 71
  78. 72
  79. 73
  80. 74
  81. 75
  82. 76
  83. 77
  84. 78
  85. 79
  86. 80
  87. 81
  88. 82
  89. 83
  90. 84
  91. 85
  92. 86
  93. 87
  94. 88
  95. 89
  96. 90
  97. 91
  98. 92
  99. 93
  100. 94
  101. 95
  102. 96
  103. 97
  104. 98
  105. 99
  106. 100
  107. 101
  108. 102
  109. 103
  110. 104
  111. 105
  112. 106
  113. 107
  114. 108
  115. 109
  116. 110
  117. 111
  118. 112
  119. 113
  120. 114
  121. 115
  122. Epilogue
  123. Acknowledgements
  124. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

‘You’re talking about Earl Grey?’ she replied brightly. ‘Yes, I’ve read the file, Luke. That was nice work in Lithuania.’ Michaela cocked her head to one side for a moment. ‘But I’m afraid the fact he’s over there doesn’t mean you can get rid of me quite that easily. As your OPSY on this case, I’m still going to be hovering over your shoulder regardless of whether your man is in Timbuktu or Tooting.’

‘Understood.’ Luke nodded. He liked her. She may have been a few years younger than him but she exuded a quiet, no-nonsense professionalism. Rather like his line manager, Angela, but with smiles.

‘Relax, I don’t bite,’ she said. ‘Let me get you a coffee and we can discuss how we’re going to keep Earl Grey one step ahead of the people he’s betraying.’

72

Cambridge Science Park, England

Tuesday, 15 March, 1321hrs GMT

LOTTI JAMES HAD finished work early for the day. She walked up to her car, looked quickly around her, then got in and drove slowly out of Cambridge Science Park, sticking carefully to the speed limit. Her nerves were on edge. There was still so much that could go wrong. Like that business with the monkey. Well, at least that problem was solved now – this morning’s phone call had come as a relief. But, still, she had to do something about the pent-up tension – maybe pop something from the bathroom cabinet when she got home.

And where had all the anger come from? It was a question she often asked herself and she thought about it now as she turned the corner by the Tesco Express and drove slowly past the mosque, the community centre and the newsagent on the next corner. A straight-A student with a flair for science and a gift for modern languages, Lotti James had never been in any kind of trouble at school. At least, not until the time she was accused of writing something unrepeatable about Jews, Muslims and the ‘N-word’ on the door of the girls’ toilet in the school gym. She denied it, of course, and they were never quite able to pin it on her, but from then on she knew she needed to be a lot more careful.