Beirut - An Explosive Thriller by Alexander McNabb Page B

German subsidiary Kaufsmartz,
but Freij terminated the interview the second Stokes brought up the
micropayments. His reaction was mad altogether. I believe Michel
Freij had Stokes abducted and killed.’
    ‘ Michel Freij
is a significant public figure, Mr Lynch.’ Dubois’ voice was no
less smooth but he leaned forwards, his eyebrow raised. ‘As well as
being a successful businessman, he is a high-profile political
player. You are laying a very serious charge.’
    Political
player my arse, thought Lynch. Tony Chalhoub had called Lynch’s
mobile as he waited for his flight that morning and confirmed the
address he had asked Tony to look into was the new headquarters of
Freij’s One Lebanon party. The building was so new, Lynch had
missed the signage going up by a day. Now its entrance was capped
by the new One Lebanon logo. Apparently there had been a shooting
near there the evening before, Chalhoub had continued. Did Lynch
know anything about it? If he heard anything, he’d be sure to call
Tony first, wouldn’t he?
    ‘ Michel is
the son of Raymond Freij, one of the most feared Christian warlords
during the Lebanese civil war. He was a prominent Phalangist.’
Lynch turned to the others in the room. ‘The Phalange is a
far-right Lebanese political movement, supported by the Christians.
Its militia has long been notorious for its brutality.’
    Dubois’ voice
was sharp, ‘I am aware of that. What of it?’
    Lynch gazed
at Dubois. He pulled a folded piece of textured vellum from his
inside pocket and slid it across. ‘This was next to Stokes’
corpse.’
    Brian
Channing was on his feet, craning his head to catch sight of the
document. ‘What the hell is it?’
    ‘ It is a
death warrant.’ Dubois sat back and examined the elegant
calligraphy. ‘The type Michel’s father used to write. Raymond died
over ten years ago of cancer. He was a cruel man and fond of grand
gestures. This has the name Paul Stokes written on it.’
    Lynch
wondered how Dubois had known about Raymond Freij’s odd habit of
writing out his enemies’ death warrants with a quill pen on
vellum.
    ‘ This isn’t
conclusive,’ said Dubois, waving the paper at Lynch.
    ‘ Isn’t it? I
suppose the two thugs from Freij’s One Lebanon militia who entered
Stokes’ flat didn’t steal the key to his front door from his dead
body then, did they?’
    A dip of
Dubois’ head acknowledged the point. ‘And yet Michel Freij would
surely not link himself to the crime by leaving a billet-doux behind.’
    ‘ His father
did. Freij is probably more powerful than his father. And arrogant.
He’s virtually untouchable in Lebanon and he knows it.’
    Channing’s
gaze flicked round the room, taking the temperature. His hands
layered in front of him, catlike, he turned to Dubois. ‘We have to be reasonable.
We can’t surely start intercepting international shipping on the basis of
some Hamburger whore’s sad luck story and mount a major operation
against international terrorism because an Arab businessman buys a
yacht with a bit of hooky cash? We need a deal more evidence than this before
we can justify allocating resources.’
    Lynch glanced
sourly at Channing. Your bloody minister’s
pulling your strings there, Brian. He
pushed back his chair and wandered to the window, the movement
electrifying the room.
    ‘ The trouble
is, it isn’t just any old Arab businessman, is it? It’s Michel
bloody Freij and he killed Stokes because he was pushed about that
money transfer. Freij is in Berlin right now. He has a meeting at
the Landsee. It’s a golf club, right?’
    ‘ Ja. Hoffmann
is known to be a member.’ Schmidt answered.
    Lynch turned,
framed darkly against the dull daylight behind him. ‘So let’s just
conjecture Michel Freij is meeting with Hoffmann at his golf club.
Hoffmann the bankrupt who has just come into eighty million dollars
in the nick of time and straight away paid half of it over to a
known arms dealer. The same Hoffmann whose daughter