Driven by Toby Vintcent Read Free Book Online

countermeasures – and to try and trace whoever operated that device.’
    ‘You can do that?’
    ‘Yes, sir. Ironically, we’re in luck the bug in Remy’s helmet is a jamming device. Had they simply been listening in, that bug would only have needed to be a transmitter and it would’ve been impossible for us to detect a receiver at the other end. Their eavesdropping could have been electronically passive.’
    ‘But being a jammer, they have to send out a signal, of course?’
    ‘Precisely. It’s because it is a jamming device – and requires a direct transmission by the operator to activate it – that we have a slim chance of being able to detect that signal and use it to find the saboteur.’
    Quartano’s tone hardened. ‘Do what you have to, Matt, but find them.’
    ‘I’m going to need some Quartech surveillance kit.’
    ‘Whatever you want. Straker, find and stop the people who are sabotaging us. Don’t let these bastards do anything to risk that sponsorship and market access to China.’
     
    F or the second night running Straker got inadequate sleep.
    His head was spinning. Not just with the sabotage developments, but with the realization that Charlotte Grant could have struck again. Surely the time had now come, he thought, to look at her phone. Sensitivities over invading her privacy were nothing more than an indulgence. After all, she was dead now. And a suspect.
    Moving over to the safe in his hotel room, Straker unlocked the door, picked out the sleek black iPhone and made to turn it on. Tryas he might, he couldn’t prevent images of Charlie appearing in his mind.
    How that woman had beguiled him – professionally, in one sense, and sexually, in another. His encounter with her, at the time, had seemed so spontaneous. So innocent.
    Straker met her seemingly by accident, or so he thought. He’d been out in Buhran for that first assignment with Quartech. It seemed like luck – luck that he should meet and enjoy talking with a beautiful woman by the poolside of his hotel. After chatting in the afternoon sun for some time, casually – easily – Straker and Charlotte arranged to have dinner.
    They got on. Really got on. Straker was transfixed. She was punchy, intelligent, provocative, funny; she could talk about a host of different things, and seemed to have opinions on all of them. Not only that, she was physically captivating too: five eleven, slim, with the smoothest of tanned complexions, long dark hair and radiant grey eyes.
    Even in that, their first evening together, Straker’s self-control had been sorely tested. There was palpable physical and sexual chemistry between them. Her body language – and tone – implied she was drawn to him, and why not? He was six two with a powerful and obviously fit physique, dark eyes, and a naturally severe expression that indicated confidence and purpose – but which, when he smiled, was transformed to unexpected openness and ready engagement.
    Straker’s marriage, heavily strained at the time because of the aftermath of his rendition and torture, might have provided a justification of sorts, but he had not succumbed. For the rest of the night following that dinner, though, he had got no sleep, as he mulled, moped, and paced his hotel room thinking about this striking woman.
    But that was until he was jolted and even panicked from holding such thoughts. His assignment – and very liberty – was threatened. It became dangerous enough for him to need to get out of that despotic country in a hurry. With all the concentration, urgency andtension that escaping involved, Straker found himself with more pressing matters to think about than a stunning woman he might have met by a pool.
    Until – having managed to get out – a few evenings later, completely unannounced, she showed up on his doorstep in London. Straker’s wife, by then, had moved out, taking with her the last of the fidelity he felt he still owed her.
    He and Charlotte Grant had had an