Kingdom of Darkness

  He took his personal security as seriously as his secrecy. Zane had told Eddie that their subject had a morning routine of enjoying a coffee and a glass of local orange and lemon juice at the café before returning to his villa. However, he was not doing so alone. He had arrived shadowed by two younger men, both with slight bulges under their clothing that to a trained eye were identifiable as handguns. One of the pair was at another table from where he could observe his patron and the surrounding square, while the other had stationed himself at the nearby fountain, keeping watch from behind its statue of St Andrew.

  ‘He also has another man at the villa,’ Zane told his temporary partner. ‘There is always at least one man guarding it. The villa itself has surveillance systems covering the main road above it and the jetty at the bottom of the cliff below.’

  ‘You know a lot about him,’ Eddie noted. ‘Been on Mossad’s radar for a while, has he?’

  ‘We take an interest in anyone connected to anti-Israeli organisations. But,’ Zane’s gaze flicked towards the broker, ‘so far Leitz has been smart and careful enough not to do anything that would justify direct action against him.’

  ‘Until now.’

  ‘That’s what we’re going to find out. If he really is working for these Nazis, then the Mossad will act. But first, we need confirmation.’

  Eddie finished his own delicious citrus juice. ‘And how are you planning on getting it?’

  ‘If I can reach his computer, it doesn’t matter what security it has – I can still access it.’ He touched a small satchel on the table.

  ‘That’s what the bloke at Naples airport gave you? Some sort of hacking gizmo?’

  ‘A gift from the Mossad’s friends at the NSA,’ Zane told him. ‘All I have to do is plug it into his PC’s USB port, and it’ll take control of his system through a back door. He won’t even know anything has happened.’

  ‘So if he’s here, why aren’t you at his place doing this already?’

  ‘Those surveillance systems I mentioned? They’re very good. We can’t just jump over the fence.’

  ‘How are we supposed to get inside, then?’

  Leitz finished his coffee and tossed some coins on to the table, then got up and left. The two bodyguards followed, smoothly filtering into positions behind him. Zane waited until they reached one of the piazza’s exits before rising. ‘That’s a good question. I’m hoping you’ll be able to help me find an answer. Come on.’

  ‘I remember this road,’ said Eddie as Zane followed Leitz’s BMW, keeping a few other cars between them. ‘Drove along it with Nina. It’s a bloody nightmare to get past anything.’ He looked out to the left across the glittering sea, then added: ‘Great views, though.’

  The main westward route out of Amalfi was a narrow road halfway up the coastal cliffs, steep rock walls above and below. Despite the tight confines, the roadside was still home to numerous parked cars and wheelie bins belonging to locals, making overtaking almost impossible. Inevitably, this resulted in traffic jams; equally inevitably, this being Italy, the jams were accompanied by car horns and emotive gesticulation as arguments erupted over who would be forced to back up first.

  Zane slowed the Lancia Delta as another knot of traffic built up ahead. A bus was coming the other way, forcing westbound vehicles to crawl along hard over against the cliff face. ‘Views here are expensive. Leitz paid a million euros for his villa, and that was over ten years ago.’

  ‘He’s made a few bob from what he does, then.’

  The Israeli nodded. ‘His standard fee is twenty per cent. His clients are willing to pay that much, because he is able to keep their secrets.’

  ‘Even from Mossad? He must be worth the money, then.’

  A cacophony of horns broke out as the bus found itself unable to squeeze past a car that had refused to pull all the way over. Zane brought the hatchback to a stop. After several seconds in which the jam remained unmoving, he drew in a slow, deep breath. ‘Sav’lanut, areyh tes’eyer . . .’ he muttered.

  ‘What was that?’ Eddie asked.

  The younger man hesitated before answering. ‘It was something Benjamin used to say to me. A lot, to begin with. It means “Patience, young lion.”’

  ‘Young lion? Was that what he called you?’

  Zane nodded. ‘I had a nickname for him too. Alter kocker.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  The younger man appeared almost sheepish. ‘The nearest translation would be . . . “old fart”.’

  ‘Kids these days, no respect,’ Eddie said with a grin. ‘Sounds more like he was your dad than your boss.’

  ‘He was like a father to me,’ said Zane, with an insistence that surprised the Yorkshireman. ‘He trained me, he helped me become who I am today. Without his guidance, I would have been . . .’ He waved a hand as if trying to pluck the right word from the air. ‘Nobody. Just another aimless kid. He gave me a purpose. But . . .’ his cheek muscles tightened with barely suppressed emotion, ‘now he is gone.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  The Israeli gave a small nod of thanks, then his expression became curious. ‘In the hotel, in Egypt: when I told you Ben had been my mentor, you said that without him, I wouldn’t have been who I am. Not where I am. Why did you phrase it like that?’

  ‘Because I know what you’re feeling right now.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘You said you’d read my file. Figure it out.’

  The Israeli’s smooth brow creased slightly in thought. ‘Your commander, in the SAS . . .’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Eddie. ‘I know what it’s like to lose someone who . . . who made you what you are, someone who kicked your arse into line when you needed it most. Especially when they were taken away from you by being shot in the back.’

  ‘That part wasn’t in your file,’ said Zane.

  ‘I didn’t get time to do any paperwork afterwards. Seeing as I was wanted for murder.’

  ‘You went after the man who did it?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Did you kill him?’

  ‘Yes, but . . . it wasn’t revenge. I was trying to find out who he was working for, but he pulled a gun on me. I didn’t have a choice.’

  ‘I already know who Rasche is working for,’ Zane said, his face becoming cold once more. ‘When I find him . . . I won’t try to capture him. Ayin tachat ayin.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It’s from the Talmud. “An eye for an eye.”’

  Eddie nodded. ‘I’m not Jewish, but I can totally get behind that.’

  Zane seemed about to say more, but a shrill bleat from the car behind told him the traffic was moving again. ‘Can you see Leitz?’

  ‘Yeah, whenever I bang my head. No, he’s still there,’ Eddie added, seeing that his companion did not share his sense of humour. ‘In front of that Ape.’

  ‘What ape?’ Zane scanned the road. ‘I didn’t know they had monkeys here.’

  The Englishman laughed. ‘Not a bloody monkey! The little three-wheeler van, there.’ He pointed ahead. Behind Leitz’s black 7 Series was a tiny pickup truck, whining along at the head of a stream of blue smoke from its puny two-stroke engine. The Apes, in both three- and four-wheeled form, had been a constant source of amusement on his previous visit, as the diminutive utility vehicles always seemed laden with far more than they could possibly carry.

  ‘Then why didn’t you just call it a van?’

  ‘Because that’s its bloody name, a Piaggio Ape. Anyway, we haven’t lost him. How far to his villa?’

  ‘About two kilometres.’

  Eddie let the rest of the journey pass in silence, watching the beautiful scenery glide by. It only took five minutes, even with stoppages, to reach their destination. ‘There it is,’ Zane announced.

  The BMW
pulled across to the top of a driveway on the left, an electric gate rolling out of its way. The drive dropped away steeply beyond it, giving Eddie a glimpse of a red-tiled rooftop below. Leitz’s driver went through the barrier the moment he had enough clearance, the gate immediately reversing direction to close behind the car.

  ‘Don’t draw any attention to us,’ said Zane as the Delta passed the entrance and continued along the rising road.

  ‘I wasn’t going to fucking lean out and take a picture,’ Eddie shot back. He did, however, pay close attention to their surroundings. ‘He’s not short of cameras himself, though. I see three – no, four, at least.’

  ‘Those are just the ones we’re supposed to see,’ Zane said ominously. ‘According to our information, he has thermal detectors and motion trackers as well as CCTV.’

  Eddie looked back as the road curved around a headland, giving him a slightly better view of the villa. From what he could see through the high metal fence, the house was built directly into the rock of a small promontory overlooking the sea. He also spotted more cameras. ‘Okay, so going in from the road’s out. Did you say there was a dock down below?’

  Zane nodded. ‘I’ll pull over so we can see.’

  That turned out to be easier said than done, but eventually he found a space. Zane collected a pair of binoculars, then the two men went to the low wall along the edge of the road to get their first clear view back at Leitz’s villa.

  Eddie immediately saw that it was worth the money the Luxembourger had paid for it, and probably more. The large three-storey building was painted a soft sandy orange. Several windows on the upper floors had balconies overlooking the ocean, and a patio ran the width of the lowest level, chairs and shaded tables set out along it – enough seats for at least a dozen people. ‘Is he planning a barbie?’ he wondered aloud.

  Zane was more interested in the flight of steps that zig-zagged down the cliff from the patio to a jetty at sea level. A suited man in sunglasses stood at the bottom, looking for all the world like a doorman expecting guests. ‘Down there: one of his guards. If there’s one at the dock, that only leaves two watching the house.’

  ‘Think you might need to check your intel.’ Eddie could see another two figures at the top of the drive . . . and a third had just emerged from the house on to the patio. None were Leitz. ‘Your man’s got visitors,’ he added as the gate opened again. A large black Mercedes with dark windows negotiated the tight turn from the road.

  The two guards watched as it descended the steep slope, the gate sliding closed behind. A figure in white stepped into the sunlight. ‘There’s Leitz,’ said Zane. The broker waited on the villa’s pink marble steps for the new arrival. The Mercedes pulled up, its uniformed driver getting out to open the rear door.

  The passenger emerged. From this distance, Eddie couldn’t see much beyond that he was male, grey-haired and somewhat overweight – but Zane had a much better view through his field glasses. ‘Szőko!’

  ‘Bless you,’ said the Englishman.

  The Mossad agent was too fixated on the scene to acknowledge the joke. ‘No, Zoltan Szőko – he is one of Leitz’s clients. He is Hungarian, a businessman with connections to the country’s biggest anti-Semitic party. He is openly anti-Israeli; we have been watching him.’ The young man lowered the binoculars. ‘Why is he here?’

  ‘Maybe he wants to work on his tan.’

  ‘That’s not what I mean. People like this do all their business at a distance; they never meet in person.’

  Szőko and Leitz shook hands, then the Luxembourger guided his guest into the villa. ‘Well they are now,’ said Eddie. ‘Must be a special occasion.’

  ‘The Mossad has nightmares about the occasions these people think are special.’ Zane noticed something at sea level. ‘Szőko isn’t the only visitor.’

  The guard below advanced to the end of the jetty. Numerous pleasure craft were cruising along the coast in both directions, but one was heading towards the private dock. Zane locked the binoculars on to it. ‘It’s Takis Metaxes!’

  ‘I’m guessing he’s on Mossad’s shit-list too?’

  Zane nodded. ‘Another rich businessman who likes to put his spare cash into neo-Nazi organisations. Only he’s Greek, not Hungarian.’

  ‘There must be more coming – he’s got plenty of chairs set out.’ The Englishman watched as the motor launch came alongside the jetty, one of its crew tossing a mooring line to the waiting man. ‘Maybe Leitz is hosting a Klaus barbie.’

  ‘Something big is going on,’ said Zane. He regarded the house thoughtfully. ‘We have to get inside.’

  ‘Well, that was kind of why we came here. But it might be better to wait until things quieten down.’

  ‘No, they’ve come here to discuss something major. I need to find out what. It’s the only reason they would meet like this – Leitz is the host, but he would never organise something on his own. He always acts on behalf of a client.’

  ‘And you think those arseholes from Egypt are the clients?’

  ‘Maybe they intended to sell the statue they were trying to steal from the tomb.’

  ‘The buyers’ll be disappointed, then.’ The mention of the statue made Eddie think of Nina. He now felt somewhat guilty about his abrupt and ill-tempered departure. She would be in Cairo by now; he considered phoning her to make peace overtures, but the sight of a second arriving car distracted him. ‘Another one’s just turned up.’

  ‘We have to get in there,’ Zane insisted. ‘But how?’ He surveyed the upper fence through the binoculars. ‘There’s no way in from the road without being seen. And the dock is guarded.’

  Eddie leaned over the wall, looking at the cliffs below. They were steep – extremely so, in places – but for the most part not actually sheer. From where he and Zane were standing, he could see past the promontory on which the villa had been built to the coastline beyond.

  He could also see that unless an observer was at the very end of the jetty, the other side of the rocky outcrop would be blocked from their sight . . .

  ‘Think I might have found a way,’ he announced, catching Zane’s attention. ‘You ever been free-climbing?’

  The Israeli’s satchel contained more than hacking gear. Amongst its contents were several wads of high-value euro banknotes – one of which had been given to a surprised but delighted man in Amalfi harbour for the no-questions-asked charter of his small motorboat. Eddie and Zane then set out back along the coast for Leitz’s villa, the journey rather quicker by sea than by road.

  ‘Okay, over there,’ said Eddie, pointing at the cliffs. They were on the promontory’s eastern flank, one side of the orange house overlooking them about eighty feet above – but crucially, the guard on the jetty was out of view on its far side.

  Their pilot regarded the base of the outcrop unhappily. ‘Is too rough, we hit rocks.’ Even though it was a calm day, waves were still churning noisily against the ragged shore.

  Zane produced another wad of euros. ‘If your boat gets scratched, that should cover it.’

  ‘Hell, that’ll buy you a whole new boat,’ said Eddie.

  ‘I maybe need a new boat!’ the man protested. But he took the money anyway. ‘Okay, you better be fast.’

  ‘All right.’ Eddie tensed as the boat edged towards the shore, the swell of the waves kicking it up and down. He put both hands on the gunwale, the hull’s edge, to steady himself. ‘I’ll go first, then you—’

  Before he could finish, Zane stood – and used the gunwale as a springboard to leap across the eight-foot gap. He barely made it, his feet catching the rocks just inches above the water.

  His exit set the boat rocking violently. ‘Jesus!’ Eddie yelped, crouching to lower the craft’s centre of gravity. ‘Patience, young lion!’

  Zane glared at him. ‘Don’t call me that. Only Benjamin called m
e that.’

  ‘Then don’t go fucking jumping out of boats before anyone else is ready.’

  ‘You should have been ready. And why aren’t you ready now? Hurry up.’ The Israeli started his climb.

  ‘Fucking kids,’ Eddie said loudly. He waited for the boat to stabilise before rising again. The driver pulsed the outboard to get as close as he dared to the cliff. ‘Okay, hold it steady, hold it . . .’

  He waited for the boat’s shoreward side to roll upwards – and jumped.

  Even though the gap was only just over six feet, he didn’t quite clear it. He slammed against the wall, both hands finding grip on the rock, but his feet splashed into the water. ‘Shit!’ he growled, pulling himself upwards to find dry footing.

  Zane stopped and looked down. ‘Did you get your feet wet, old man?’

  ‘Old man, my arse,’ Eddie said, glowering at the Israeli. ‘Go over to the left; those plants above you won’t take any weight.’

  ‘This isn’t my first climb.’ The younger man resumed his ascent.

  Eddie shook his head, then started after him. The boat turned back out to sea, and the pair were left alone.

  It didn’t take long for Eddie to catch up with Zane, though to his annoyance, he realised it was because the Mossad agent had deliberately slowed down. ‘Okay,’ said the Yorkshireman, ‘wait here for a sec.’

  ‘Why, are you out of breath?’

  ‘Piss-taking little bastard . . . No, I want to find the best route so we don’t get stuck – or climb up right in front of one of his guards.’ Eddie cautiously leaned backwards to survey the cliff. The villa’s lowest floor was about sixty feet above, a wall marking the patio’s eastern end. If anyone looked over it, the climbers would be seen, but the chances of that happening were low . . . he hoped.

  Besides, the patio wasn’t his destination. ‘We should be able to reach one of those balconies on the top two floors,’ he said. ‘Okay, so if we keep going straight up, then when we get level with that bush go right and then back around towards the house where those vines are, we’ll avoid that really steep bit.’ He indicated a near-vertical chimney that rose from the sea almost to the villa’s foundations.