The Rift by Rachel Lynch (good book recommendations txt) 📕

where his role as ambassador carried the reputation of the country with it. But he did have a point.

She knew that both Fawaz and Khalil had holdings in oil and gas, but there was plenty of room in North Africa for both of them. One was based in Morocco and the other in Algeria. Both, as far as she could work out, from what she’d simply heard about in the news, had enough profits, year on year, to be unaffected by the other.

‘I don’t like coincidences, Major Scott.’

‘Neither do I, sir.’

They walked further towards the perimeter wall, and Helen was wondering how long it would take them to get back to the main house. It was a beautiful walk, but she wasn’t there to enjoy the scenery.

‘Why don’t the Americans think there’s something suspect about it?’ he asked.

‘Sir, isn’t that a question for MI6?’

‘Of course, of course. But what do you think? Like I said, you know these people.’

This time Helen couldn’t help but become frustrated with his appalling racial stereotypes. Why do dinosaurs like him still represent British interests abroad? she asked herself.

‘Sir, I worked extensively in Afghanistan, Pakistan, Saudi Arabia and India. I’ve never worked in Africa, only coming across attached regiments through NATO and the UN. I’m no expert.’

He stopped to face her.

‘Khalil Dalmani’s son has been abducted. Can you imagine how that feels?’ he asked. His passion startled her.

She stared at him, and all the sounds of the birds, the wind in the trees, and the faint hum of traffic ceased, as she thought about Luke, and what she would do to get him back.

‘Of course, sir, but… but my job is to make you safe at the summit, and there isn’t—’

‘Major Scott. Fawaz Nabil has never forgiven Khalil Dalmani for not joining forces with him in his filthy drugs trade. Their relationship has been acrimonious for years,’ he said.

‘Which is why he wouldn’t think twice about abducting his rival’s son,’ she offered. It was barely a whisper.

‘But for what benefit? Why now? And how will Khalil Dalmani retaliate? That’s what I want to know,’ he said. ‘And that’s why I’m sending you to Interpol,’ he added.

‘Excuse me, sir? You’re taking me off the security for the summit?’

‘Quite the contrary, actually. See it as part of the bigger picture. I’ve spoken to MI6 and they’ve recommended, along with the Americans and Five Eyes, that the security threat level surrounding the summit – given the timing of the abduction, along with Fawaz’s recent activities – should be escalated. Now, you said yourself that you’re satisfied that everything that can be done around Versailles is being done. I want no surprises.’ He stopped, and she paused alongside him. Special Agent Roy White can’t have been privy to the latest decisions regarding this, either that or she’d left Versailles before he’d been informed. Either way, things were moving fast, and the summit was next week. A tingle of excitement, combined with apprehension, washed over her.

‘Am I to join their search for Hakim Dalmani, sir?’

‘You got it. Get to the bottom of that, and we find out what his father and associates are up to,’ he said.

‘You think this might be a business deal gone wrong?’ she asked.

Somewhere in the distance, beyond the garden wall topped with barbed wire and CCTV cameras, she heard a loud bang. Her body jumped with a startle reflex, but it was so quick that Sir Conrad didn’t notice. The symptoms of PTSD she’d suffered after the incident in another garden, many years before, came back to her.

She was suddenly acutely aware of the birds twittering and cheeping, as they had been when she’d been twenty metres from a car bomb, the other side of a wall, in the middle of a garden in Riyadh. The principal had been a British military attaché working at the embassy, but the target that day was his wife. An extremist group took offence to her westernised dress and planted a bomb under her car. Wives no longer accompanied their husbands on postings to Riyadh.

She was brought abruptly back to the moment by Sir Conrad.

‘Interpol have a team working on the abduction of Hakim Dalmani. They think a plot was hatched in North Africa and carried out in Paris. They requested a specialist in close protection because they think that a leak must have come from Khalil Dalmani’s personal security. I suggested you to the head of Counter Terrorism at Interpol, an old friend of mine. You’re to go down to Lyon and lend your expertise. Of course, while you’re there, you can snoop about a bit inside their initiative to tackle the movement of drugs out of Afghanistan and into Europe. Despite what NATO likes to say on their website, we all know it’s mainly the US pouring billions of dollars into the Afghan government. Yet every spring, the heroin trade refills the Taliban’s coffers and they grow arrogant enough to give NATO the finger. This is the first year that the Afghan government has formally invited the Taliban to discuss terms, and the elephant in the room is a little pink flower. I don’t want to be caught by surprise when I come face to face with the first members of the Taliban ever to accept peace talks.’

They stopped before the magnificent fountain.

‘It was commissioned by Napoleon’s sister herself.’ Sir Conrad gestured towards the water feature. Helen wondered, given the noblewoman’s reputation, what kind of parties were held here by the socialite.

‘Sir, just so I’m clear, on the face of it, I’m representing you in several capacities; mainly guaranteeing your safety at the summit. In reality, I’m tasked with joining Interpol’s investigation into the disappearance of Hakim Dalmani, while at the same time, gathering intelligence on Fawaz Nabil, NATO and the Afghan government.’

He laughed. ‘That’s a bit strong, Major, but yes. I can’t think of anyone better.’

They both gazed at the huge marble depiction of a carriage, pulled by five horses galloping through the water, driven by