Free The Alexandria Connection by Adrian D'Hagé Page B

track.
    ‘The pilots will be standing by at Figari Sud-Corse from eight a.m. tomorrow.’ An alternative to Aéroport d’Ajaccio Napoléon Bonaparte, the island’s major airport, the smaller provincial airfield of Figari Sud-Corse was perfect. It was less than 50 kilometres away, and with an 8000-foot runway, it would easily accommodate the EVRAN Gulfstream G550.
    ‘The background papers for Alexandria are also in your attaché case,’ said Rachel, ‘but there’ll be time enough for that tomorrow.’ She leaned forward and stroked Crowley’s arm, giving him another glimpse of her breasts, her nipples already hard.
    Crowley felt the familiar primeval stirring in his loins. Rachel was not the only woman to turn him on, but her abandonment, both in the bedroom and out of it, gave him a satisfaction that his wife, Lillian, had long since ceased to match.
    Chef appeared, pushing a polished wooden flame cart, from which he served the crispy duck. He poured the Château Latour, which had been decanted and left to breathe for an hour, waited while Crowley tasted it, and then retired.
    ‘The attendees have all responded?’ Crowley asked.
    Rachel nodded. She had already committed it to memory. The list of invitees was never allowed out of Alexandria. ‘General Khan will be there . . . you asked about him particularly?’
    ‘Little Pakistani shit,’ Crowley swore.
    ‘Then why invite him?’
    ‘He’s an Islamic nutter, and no friend of the West. He wants the entire world subject to Sharia law, but the short answer is we need him,’ Crowley admitted, savouring his Latour.
    Rachel looked at her boss quizzically, but he didn’t elaborate. ‘Louis Walden will be there,’ she said, aware that the media mogul was also critical to Crowley’s plans. The tentacles of Omega Centauri Corporation, the world’s largest media multinational, reached into every corner of the globe. Walden controlled vast numbers of television and radio stations, newspapers, magazines, and film studios.
    ‘As will René du Bois,’ she added. Crédit Group, with assets exceeding a staggering US $20 billion, dwarfed the holdings of HSBC, Deutsche Bank, Barclays, JP Morgan Chase, the Bank of America and the Industrial and Commercial Bank of China combined.
    ‘He’s able to travel?’ Crowley asked.
    ‘That will depend on the appeal today,’ said Rachel, thinking back to the last Alexandria conference where she’d made the mistake of being alone with Du Bois in the lift. The powerful French banker had attempted to grope her, and Rachel had promptly slammed her knee into his groin.
    ‘The charges are serious, but his lawyers are confident his passport will be returned. I had a message to thank you for your testimonial. We’ll know by midday tomorrow.’
    Crowley nodded. A Filipina kitchen hand had accused Du Bois of sexual assault, but the CCTV footage had mysteriously disappeared, so in the end, it would come down to the word of the hired help against that of the world’s most influential financier. Crowley smiled to himself. Not only was the kitchen hand up against one of the most formidable legal teams money could buy, but Louis Walden had seen to it that a photograph of a prostitute outside a brothel in Manila, photoshopped to closely resemble the kitchen hand, was now getting wide coverage in Centauri outlets. The story was getting legs in the rest of the media, which was just as well, Crowley thought. The Pharos meeting could not be postponed, and like Walden, Du Bois was critical to the objectives of Pharos.
    ‘And the rest?’
    ‘All have accepted,’ Rachel confirmed, quietly naming fifteen of the world’s most powerful elite: mega-wealthy industrialists, European royalty, politicians and the military, including the former Head of the World Bank, Samuel P. Talbot, former US secretary of state, Bradley ‘Jay’ Guthrie, and the former chairman of the US Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Blaine T. Bradshaw. The Pharos Group might have