Vampire.' He emphasizes these last two words, pulling a face. 'He wanted me to find out all I could about their deaths. To be honest, I thought he'd been smoking something he shouldn't have. He was really agitated and kept insisting that I was totally discreet in my enquiries, like I was going to shout about it from the rooftops. I didn't really want to get involved, but he was offering money upfront, and I don't turn down ready cash.'
'And what did you find out?'
Lucas tells me pretty much exactly what Ferrie told me this morning. 'The guy Maxwelland Spann were guarding was a Russian mafia type,' he adds. 'He was supposedly something big in oil, but I spoke to the detective in Paris who led the investigation, and he reckoned that the Russian was also heavily involved in people trafficking - you know, bringing young women from the Eastern Bloc into western Europe, and setting them up as prostitutes. But he'd recently fallen out with his associates, and this is where it gets interesting.'
'Go on.'
'Apparently those associates were Yugoslavs. From Bosnia.'
'And did the detective identify them?'
Lucas shakes his head. 'No, and I didn't find out anything about this Vampire Ferrie was talking about either.'
'I still don't understand what all this has got to do with me,' I say, and it's true, I don't. I don't have the faintest idea.
'Neither do I.' Lucas stubs out his cigarette in the car's overflowing ashtray. 'Let's hope our quarry can provide a few answers.'
At that moment, his mobile rings again. It's Snowy. Our targets are on the move.
For the next ten minutes, Snowy gives us arunning commentary of their progress as they continue down the City Road, then turn on to Vestry Street and the New North Road, heading away from the financial district towards the eastern edge of Islington. Snowy's hanging back a little now because he thinks they may be doubling back on themselves, which would suggest they're worried about a tail.
By this time, though, we're clogged in Friday-afternoon traffic near the Business Design Centre on Upper Street. There's been an accident up ahead between a four-wheel-drive and a Mazda full of Arabs, and the road's blocked.
I look at my watch. It's just turned five to three, and the sun's beating down out of a near-cloudless sky.
Lucas curses and bangs the palm of his hand on the steering wheel. Cars have already backed up behind us, so there's no way back. We've just got to wait while the four-wheel-drive and the Mazda get out of the way, and at the moment there doesn't appear to be much chance of that happening. The 4x4 is like a tank; even if it mounts the pavement it will be difficult to get past it. The woman driver has her head out ofthe window and is shouting at the Arabs, who are clustered around the front of their own car, gesticulating wildly. A chorus of horns blasts away, and a guy in a white van jumps out and starts yelling for them all to move. It's a hot day in an overcrowded, smoky city, and tempers are frayed. I wish I was anywhere but here.
'Bravo One's turning right into Mintern Street one hundred metres ahead,' announces Snowy. 'I'm going to keep on going so I don't draw suspicion.'
'Good idea,' says Lucas. 'We're still in west Islington so currently ten minutes behind you.'
Although Lucas has already told me that the tracking device emits a signal that can be tracked remotely via the laptop in Snowy's car, there is a slight problem. If the case goes inside a building, the satellite's view of it will be blocked and the signal lost, which is something I can't afford, because I've got a feeling that once inside, it won't be coming out again, and my best lead'll be lost for ever.
Snowy picks up the Yugoslavs again in a residential back street a few hundred metres further on. 'OK, Bravo One's fifty metres ahead turning right into Orsman Road - now. Traffic'slight so I'm running the risk of being compromised. What's your location?'
'We're still ten minutes away,' answers Lucas
'And what did you find out?'
Lucas tells me pretty much exactly what Ferrie told me this morning. 'The guy Maxwelland Spann were guarding was a Russian mafia type,' he adds. 'He was supposedly something big in oil, but I spoke to the detective in Paris who led the investigation, and he reckoned that the Russian was also heavily involved in people trafficking - you know, bringing young women from the Eastern Bloc into western Europe, and setting them up as prostitutes. But he'd recently fallen out with his associates, and this is where it gets interesting.'
'Go on.'
'Apparently those associates were Yugoslavs. From Bosnia.'
'And did the detective identify them?'
Lucas shakes his head. 'No, and I didn't find out anything about this Vampire Ferrie was talking about either.'
'I still don't understand what all this has got to do with me,' I say, and it's true, I don't. I don't have the faintest idea.
'Neither do I.' Lucas stubs out his cigarette in the car's overflowing ashtray. 'Let's hope our quarry can provide a few answers.'
At that moment, his mobile rings again. It's Snowy. Our targets are on the move.
For the next ten minutes, Snowy gives us arunning commentary of their progress as they continue down the City Road, then turn on to Vestry Street and the New North Road, heading away from the financial district towards the eastern edge of Islington. Snowy's hanging back a little now because he thinks they may be doubling back on themselves, which would suggest they're worried about a tail.
By this time, though, we're clogged in Friday-afternoon traffic near the Business Design Centre on Upper Street. There's been an accident up ahead between a four-wheel-drive and a Mazda full of Arabs, and the road's blocked.
I look at my watch. It's just turned five to three, and the sun's beating down out of a near-cloudless sky.
Lucas curses and bangs the palm of his hand on the steering wheel. Cars have already backed up behind us, so there's no way back. We've just got to wait while the four-wheel-drive and the Mazda get out of the way, and at the moment there doesn't appear to be much chance of that happening. The 4x4 is like a tank; even if it mounts the pavement it will be difficult to get past it. The woman driver has her head out ofthe window and is shouting at the Arabs, who are clustered around the front of their own car, gesticulating wildly. A chorus of horns blasts away, and a guy in a white van jumps out and starts yelling for them all to move. It's a hot day in an overcrowded, smoky city, and tempers are frayed. I wish I was anywhere but here.
'Bravo One's turning right into Mintern Street one hundred metres ahead,' announces Snowy. 'I'm going to keep on going so I don't draw suspicion.'
'Good idea,' says Lucas. 'We're still in west Islington so currently ten minutes behind you.'
Although Lucas has already told me that the tracking device emits a signal that can be tracked remotely via the laptop in Snowy's car, there is a slight problem. If the case goes inside a building, the satellite's view of it will be blocked and the signal lost, which is something I can't afford, because I've got a feeling that once inside, it won't be coming out again, and my best lead'll be lost for ever.
Snowy picks up the Yugoslavs again in a residential back street a few hundred metres further on. 'OK, Bravo One's fifty metres ahead turning right into Orsman Road - now. Traffic'slight so I'm running the risk of being compromised. What's your location?'
'We're still ten minutes away,' answers Lucas
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