The Agent by Mark Dawson

Author:Mark Dawson
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Thrillers, Suspense, Espionage, Action & Adventure, Fiction
ISBN: 9781477818022
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2017-04-06T04:00:00+00:00

PART NINE:

Skopje

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Vivian Bloom was collected from his hotel and driven through the city towards the airport. It was raining again, the dreary drizzle providing a useful summation of how he felt about the city and the backward country within which it resided. He stared out of the smeared windows at the dour rows of housing, the men and women slouching into the wind as the rain lashed them.

He sat back in the comfort of the bulletproof SUV and closed his eyes.

The jet was waiting on the taxiway. Bloom waited for the driver to open the door and then sheltered under the man’s umbrella as he made his way across the asphalt to the steps. He climbed them as quickly as his legs would allow, but, without the umbrella above his head, he was sopping wet by the time he stepped over the sill and made his way into the cabin of the Airbus A319.

He glanced around the interior. The jet had been extensively remodelled for executive use. He had flown on the plane before. The front of the aircraft had been given over to two large executive suites, with offices and sleeping quarters. The rest of the plane was equipped for passengers, with several rows of seats. The seats were of the highest standard, with extensive legroom and the ability to be moved into fully flat positions.

A female member of staff saw him enter and, beaming a bright smile, came over to him.

‘Mr King would like to see you,’ she said. ‘He’s in his office.’

Bloom didn’t know that Jamie King was going to be returning with him. He followed the woman along the corridor that extended along the port side of the jet, past two leather armchairs in which burly Manage Risk bodyguards were sitting, to a closed door.

She knocked on the door.

‘Come!’

The woman gave Bloom a polite smile and opened the door for him.

The suite beyond was impressive. The office was on the starboard side of the jet, nearer to the front. There was an imposing desk and a conferencing breakout area with a fifty-inch television, which could be used for teleconferencing. King and Professor Ivanosky were sat around the table. The two men were locked in conversation: King was leaning forward, his elbows on the table, gesticulating with his fingers; Ivanosky was leaning away from him.

‘Good evening,’ Bloom said as he put his bag down next to the door.

King finished whatever it was that he was saying to Ivanosky and stood. ‘Vivian,’ he said. ‘How you doing?’

‘Glad to be getting out of here,’ he said.

‘I bet you are. It has its uses, though. Government doesn’t ask too many questions. Pretty easy to hide a secret out here, even a great big one like ours. What did you think?’

‘I think it’s very impressive,’ he said. He was about to add that he wasn’t impressed with the quality of the security, but he held his tongue. It was apparent that King had just finished tearing a strip out of Ivanosky and he had no interest in being the next in line.

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