Whilst the Chameleon was planning how to end Victoria Hokobu’s life, Geordie and Dee were working just as hard to preserve it.

At the client’s request, Dee had secured a Mercedes S Class Pullman Guard bulletproof saloon car with invisible armour, meaning that from the outside the car looks like any other production model. Nonetheless it has a larger engine, bullet resistant glass, a full armour plated pan protecting the underside of the car, further armour in the doors with the engine and radiator being protected against light arms fire by Kevlar shielding. The car also sported ‘drive flat’ tyres. Geordie was picking the car up from Exotic Cars of Longford Ltd, on Bath Road, near Heathrow Airport. They had been lucky to get the Mercedes at short notice, because such hire cars are very rare in London.

Dee was handling the accommodation. This was a little easier to arrange, because in London there are a number of expensive apartment buildings with extensive security arrangements and full time guards. A few even have permits allowing trained personnel to access handguns, which the police insist are kept in secure cabinets on the premises. Dee had rented an apartment from a regular supplier; the apartment was on the sixth floor of Parnell House on Oakley Street in Kensington. The secure car park could only be accessed through gates operated from the CCTV room.

Dee Hammond’s task was to ensure that between now and Mrs Hokobu’s presentation to the conference, she spent as much time as possible either in the bulletproof car or the secure apartment.

***

Over the years, clients had often baulked at the security arrangements made to keep them safe, arguing that they could hide away behind impenetrable walls on their own, and that the reason they hired Vastrick was so that they didn’t have to be isolated. Victoria Hokobu had made the same point. She was making her first visit outside Africa with her husband, and she wanted to enjoy London.

Geordie was not too concerned about showing the couple around the sights of London. He decided that he would simply choose the destinations randomly, so that no-one following would know where he was heading next. The car was a silver S Class Mercedes, of which there were thousands in the City, and so it would be relatively anonymous. In any case, Geordie was well trained in anti-surveillance techniques and he could spot a tail and lose it in London with ease.

But that was a problem for tomorrow, because the African couple were yawning every few minutes, having not slept at all during their twelve-hour flight from Bangui. All they wanted now was to go to their apartment, have English fish and chips, and watch British television until they fell asleep. Geordie offered to stay overnight with them, as their second bedroom would be far larger and more luxurious than his budget hotel room, and he would be on expenses.

Consequently, by early afternoon Geordie was driving the Mercedes in the direction of Fryers Tuck In, a fish and chip takeaway on the Kings Road, less than half a mile from the apartment. Gentle snoring was coming from the back seat, where both of his passengers were out for the count and leaning against each other.

They would soon wake up when they smelled cod and chips three times with salt, vinegar and mushy peas, Geordie thought, smiling.

Chapter 6

Celebrato Offices, Spital Square, London, Monday 4pm.

The Chameleon printed out the encrypted file that had been sent by email. One of the reasons the Maratis were good customers was that their background information was always thorough, no doubt obtained by bribery and torture. Another reason that they were good to work for was that their targets were usually evil, low profile, unguarded and accessible.

The final reason that the Chameleon accepted the assignment was that someone very senior at MI5 had initially referred the Maratis to the Chameleon with the old code words. This meant that, in the view of that individual at least, the assassinations were probably in the UK’s national interest.

The notes in the extensive file explained that Victoria Hokobu had promised her head of security, Vincent Utembo, that she would seek protection when she landed in London. Vincent had told her that he would sleep more easily if she travelled in an armoured vehicle. She promised him she would follow his instructions. That was almost the last promise he received.

Utembo had received one final promise from the policemen who had shot him dead two hours ago. It was:

“Tell us all you know about the Hokobus’ trip to London and we will spare the lives of your wife and children.”

The photographs of the carnage in the humble stone built house were a testament to the emptiness of that promise.

The Chameleon could not know which security company the Hokobu woman would contact, but whoever she approached would need to hire in one of the half dozen bulletproof cars available for hire in the Home Counties. They would probably hire it today and keep it until after the Hokobus’ flight back on Friday.

***

The Chameleon made the fifth and final call to determine who was hiring armoured cars at the last minute; this call was to Exotic Cars of Longford, one of the few companies listed as suppliers of Protective Cars for hire. This last call would ensure that all of London’s specialist car hire companies had been contacted.

“Exotic Cars, Alexander speaking.”

“Alexander, I hope that you can help me. This is Highgate Protection Services and we need to hire a bulletproof car as soon as possible.”

“I’m sorry; I’ve just hired out the last armoured Mercedes.”

“Damn! Was it the wine coloured S Class shown on your website?”

“No, it was the silver S Class on the next page. When do you need it? It is due back on Friday night, so if you need it for the weekend...” Alexander offered hopefully.

“That would be ideal; can I book it tomorrow when the boss gets back?”

“Sure, that would be fine.”

“OK, until tomorrow. Oh, just one more thing; the car that you just hired out wasn’t booked by our sister company Douglas Protection Services in the Isle of Man, by any chance?”

“No, I’m afraid not. A guy from Vastrick Security picked it up.”

“OK. Thanks, Alexander, I’ll call back tomorrow,” the Chameleon lied, hanging up the phone.

This was by far the most likely candidate, and so a minute or two later the Vastrick website was showing on the Celebrato computer screen and the contact number listed was being dialled.

“Vastrick Security, Andy speaking.”

“Hello there. I am calling from the UN Ending Slavery, Ending Poverty, organising committee. Could I speak to Victoria Hokobi please?”

If Katie, the usual receptionist, had answered the phone she would have blurted out that Mrs Hokobu was the correct pronunciation, and that she had just left, but Andy was a little wilier. He suspected someone was fishing for information.

“I’m afraid I don’t know anyone of that name. Are you sure you wanted Vastrick Security?”

“Yes, quite sure. That’s odd. When we parted at Heathrow this morning after flying in from Bangui she said she was coming to see you. I do hope that she is OK.”

“Well, she doesn’t have an appointment, but if she does call on us do you have a message for her?”

“Yes, I do. Could you please tell her that we will do a sound check at eight o’clock on Thursday morning before she speaks at ten?”

“I’m sure that Mrs Hokobu is fine, and if she should happen to turn up at our door, I will be sure to pass on the message.”

The Chameleon smiled and put down the phone. It had seemed at first as though Vastrick was a dead end, but the young man on the phone confirmed the Chameleon’s suspicions when he pronounced her name Huckooboo, whereas the Chameleon had deliberately, but mistakenly, referred to her as Mrs Hokobi.