A Darker Place by Jack Higgins Page A

uniform. A few lines on these early days and much more about her defection and London marriage. A list of her London stage appearances. A photo of Kelly, a mention that her companion was now the artist Katya Zorin, and then a whole page on her famous nephew.
    Kurbsky clicked into “Katya Zorin” and discovered her life in theater and art. There was a photo of her and Svetlana, obviously taken recently. He smiled, touched, and switched off.
     
     
    LACEY AND PARRY appeared at Holland Park and found Roper. “The boss has filled us in. Dillon and Billy are going to snatch somebody important in Paris Wednesday night and spirit him away,” Lacey said.
    “One Henri Duval, according to the passport,” Parry added, “though if you believe that, you’d believe anything.”
    “Absolute top priority,” Lacey said.
    “As big as it gets.” Roper drank a little scotch and lit a cigarette.
    “Well, if you say that, I really do believe it,” Lacey said. “So let’s look at France.”
    Roper brought it up on a screen, focusing on Paris. “It can’t be Charles de Gaulle or any of the small airfields operating in the Paris area.”
    “Look, aren’t you being a bit overcautious?” Parry asked. “A quick in-and-out. What’s wrong with that?”
    “Total anonymity. Ferguson wants this man swallowed whole. It must be as if he’s never been.”
    “It’s not a kidnapping, is it?” Lacey asked.
    “Absolutely not. He wants to disappear into the depths of France—that way, his own people might think he was still in France, simply hidden away somewhere.”
    “So Dillon and Billy pick him up by car and whisk him off somewhere,” Lacey said. “Overnight to another part of the country, where we’ll be waiting at some suitable airfield to fly out to the UK.”
    Roper enlarged the map. “What about Brittany?”
    “Lots of places we could use there, fly out across the Channel Islands, Isle of Wight, straight up to Farley Field. Long way to go, Brittany.”
    “Not if you went by rail. There’s a line all the way down to Brest marked on the map.”
    “And Brest is a hell of a long way,” Parry said.
    “I’m not suggesting you go all the way. The line goes through Rennes, for example. That’s not far from Saint-Malo, the Channel Islands, Jersey. I’ll bring up flying facilities for that area.”
    There were several. Lacey and Parry murmured together and finally made a choice. “Saint-Denis. There’s an excellent flying club there. They have a tarmac runway to attract business travel, so jets can get in.” Lacey nodded. “We could do that. We could drop Dillon and Billy at Charles de Gaulle Wednesday morning, then fly down to Saint-Denis and overnight.”
    “Now for the train.”
    Roper tapped his requirements in and sat back. “There you are. Overnight for Brest, departing midnight. Apartments available, first class, can seat four.”
    “Well, there you are,” Lacey told him.
    “What plane will you use?” Roper asked.
    Lacey looked at Parry. “What do you think?”
    “Gulfstream’s too flashy. Let’s go for the sober look. The old Chieftain turboprop. Plenty of legroom, great seats.”
    “I agree.” Lacey turned to Roper. “A done deal. You take care of your end, we’ll fix up Charles de Gaulle and Saint-Denis, and we’re in business.”
    Parry added, “Could it get rough in Paris for Sean and Billy?”
    “Let’s put it this way. They’re up against people who will do everything in their power to stop them.”
    “Duval must be very important.”
    “When you recognize him, remember to forget you’ve seen him.”
    THE FOLLOWING DAY, Dillon and Monica accompanied Svetlana on a day out by invitation. They went in an old Ford station wagon, Katya driving, the weather brooding.
    “The time of year, my dears,” Svetlana said. “But I wanted you to see Holly End. It meant a great deal to Alexander when he was here. He used to go down for the weekends with Kelly all the time. Katya loves to paint