Secret Combinations by Gordon Cope Read Free Book Online Page A

back window.”
    As the cab rolled through Knightsbridge, the Range Rover caught up and resumed its tailing position three cars back. Harry made sure it got close enough for the driver to see Kenyon’s cap poking above the seat, then sped up, putting more distance between the two cars as he entered Kensington.
    â€œThere’s a row of shops along Gloucester Road,” he explained. “As soon as we turn the corner, I’ll slow down. You tuck the cap onto the back window ledge and dodge into a shop.”
    â€œWhat are you going to do?” asked Kenyon.
    â€œThere’s an alley back behind the shops. I’ll go down to the corner and turn. You wait until the Rover goes past, then follow us.”
    â€œWhat then?
    â€œI’ll park halfways up the alley. Unless I miss my guess, he’ll stop and wait to see what we do.”
    Kenyon kept low in the seat until Harry warned him that Gloucester Road was coming up. The agent propped the urn on the seat beside him and pushed the cap back onto the rear window. “Take care of Lydia while I’m gone,” he said.
    Harry looked in the rearview. “Get ready.”
    Kenyon braced himself against the rear door and popped the latch. As they swung around the corner, Harry slowed, and Kenyon hopped out and slammed the door. The cabby roared off.
    Wincing from the stitches, Kenyon limped as fast as he could through the front door of a wine store.
    The counter clerk, a young woman, glanced briefly up, then went back to reading her Hello! magazine.
    Kenyon stood behind a free-standing display of South African wine, staring out the window. A few seconds later, the black Range Rover rolled into sight. The side windows were tinted; Kenyon couldn’t get a clear view of the driver. The 4X4 rolled past, and Kenyon eased out of the shop and followed the car down the road.
    Traffic was slow on Gloucester Road, and Kenyon managed to keep up to the two cars with a brisk walk. He watched Harry’s cab turn the corner at the end of the block, followed a few seconds later by the Rover. He slowed his pace in order to give them time to park.
    By the time Kenyon reached the entrance to the alleyway, both cars had stopped. Harry’s brightly colored cab was about two hundred feet up the alley; the Ranger was positioned behind a dumpster, about halfway back.
    Perfect, thought Kenyon. Using a stack of old cardboard boxes as cover, he snuck forward. There was no way of avoiding the rearview. Hopefully, his pursuer was too intent on watching the cab to check it. Fortunately, Kenyon reached the back of the 4X4 undetected, and dropped out of sight below the back door.
    Time for a distraction. A box of blackened potatoes had been discarded beside the rear door of a grocery shop. Kenyon dug through until he found a spud that was still fairly firm. Careful not to burn his fingers, he jammed the potato up the car’s muddy exhaust pipe.
    It took about thirty seconds for enough pressure to build up. Then, with a loud bang, the potato shot out of the exhaust pipe. Kenyon could hear the occupant moving around in the car, wondering what happened. A few seconds later, he heard the driver’s door open.
    Kenyon rose to a crouch and, when the driver came around the back, reached up and grabbed him by the lapels and spun him up against the wall. The man struggled weakly, but Kenyon twisted his right arm behind his back and shouted in his ear. “Freeze! FBI !”
    â€œPlease, Monsieur Jack,” said the man in a French accent. “I mean no harm.”
    Harry came running up, brandishing a tire iron. “I got you covered, guv,” he shouted, taking up a position to Kenyon’s right.
    Keeping the man’s face pressed against the wall, Kenyon frisked him for a gun. Finding no weapon, Kenyon spun him around.
    His pursuer was a man of around sixty with black hair streaked with grey. He wore a dark blue, pinstripe suit and a stained silk tie. He was