Tom grabbed the weapon barrel and simply twisted. The shock the guy got when this happened so quickly made it easy to yank it out of his hands. The hard bit was then making use of the weapon fast and in such a way that the other one knew he had a problem. Shooting them was the ideal option, but that wasn’t going to happen and Tom jammed hard between his skinny legs. That always grabbed people’s attention.

Tom put on his best and worst American accent. ‘Tell him to throw me his weapon – now!’

The command was quickly shouted out and ended with a ‘Jesus, Sal, just do it.’

Tom took off on foot, not looking back, just making distance as he wiped the weapon and dumped it as soon as he could. It was maybe a kilometre of hard-sweat running before he spotted a cab and flagged it down. The driver began to pull away.

‘No way – you’re fucking rank, man!’

‘There’s an extra hundred in it if you take me.’

‘Okay, get in.’

Chapter 65

65

The phone woke Tom from a brief but incredibly deep sleep.

‘You find anything?’ Beth was on the move, walking quickly. He heard the sound of a car unlocking.

‘Yeah, maybe. We should talk.’

‘I’ve got a crash meeting with Carter, my contact agent. He’s flying in from DC.’

‘How come?’

‘I called him about Zuabi, asked him to run a check. I guess he has something big, so we should meet after that. I’ll give you the address.’

It was a motel out on an exit from the Loop to the south-west.

‘Why there?’

‘His choice. We should be done by noon. Text me when you’re near.’

He picked up the keys to his hire car at the desk and headed out into the hot, smoggy morning. A silver Toyota Camry was about as anonymous as you could get, the automotive equivalent of a Styrofoam cup. He took out his iPad and tapped in his destination, the Tijuana Motel, then searched for the location of Zuabi’s mosque and put that in as well. He had some time to kill before meeting Beth; a good opportunity to check it out.

Before he set off he called Phoebe again on his throw-away phone. She sounded stressed: phones were ringing and beeping in the background. ‘Tom, have you talked to Rolt?’

‘Why?’

‘He’s over the moon about something, but hasn’t said what. He’s keeping his composure in public but when he’s in the office it’s as though Christmas has come early. And everyone wants to talk to him, government, media – even more than before. It’s gone mental.’

‘Well, he’s got some new investment. Another name for you: Aaron Stutz. That one ever come up there?’

‘Can you give me more of a steer on it?’