Euston Tower
6 p.m.
April 17th
There was an air of intense activity on the watching floors of Euston Tower. Contact with DIC watchers and replies were flying back and forth across the country. Every last scrap of CCTV was being checked. Jack Fulton was prowling the rooms looking at screens.
“What’s that?” Jack stopped in his tracks by a transcript print out of a call to police regarding a stolen hatch back in Inverness.
“Stolen car, White Alfasud Ti, stolen off the Carse Industrial estate in Inverness.”
“Check motorway route cameras for that type of car, get about ten people on it, split the time between reported theft and now between you.”
“Okay Jack.”
Jack went up to the duty team floors. He stopped in on Beaumont and David. They were printing possible routes.
“Is that every possible route?”
“Yup, that includes boats, assuming the target destination is London. I can’t think why though. It can’t be because the quickest way in would be London airports or boat into Thames.”
“If Dewey hadn’t spotted them we’d be none the wiser. No-one knows Dewey is there to watch. Some know we exist, but they don’t know exactly where our watchers are. Whoever did this probably thought the remote location gave them a better chance. They know security services can watch the airports and that they have a daily photo match for every airport, so once every face had been run through their systems and files, which takes three hours a day, the assassins could safely assume security services would know all about them. No this was an attempt to throw off regular security services; of course as that doesn’t include us they made a mistake.”
“If any have taken the sea route we’ll have to watch Marinas and harbours quite closely.”
“Have all the marina visits been done?”
David checked. “Everyone, but a guy called Wally Tyson in Liverpool. He hasn’t e-mailed back yet.”
Jack grinned. “I know Wally, shambling man, lovely outlook, very gentle, utter genius, mathematically, so he’ll need a nudge. I’ll phone personally.”
David and Beaumont looked surprised.
“Relax I know Wally of old. Put those routes into the system and we’ll create a rolling incident map. The computer programme will add sightings and connections to possible routes.”
“Well given the start they should all be south of Glasgow by now.”
“Not Wheeler. According to the police there he’s badly dressed, seriously injured and won’t be able to move until he’s disguised and he’ll need clothes and a place to change. God help anyone who runs across him, though happily he’s disarmed.”
Jack went up to his office. Magda had retired to her apartment on the top floors. She was single, in her late twenties and largely lived in the building. She loved the work and adored Jack. Jack noted her absence and went into his office and closed the door. He didn’t often call DIC watchers at home, but this was important to him. In the back of his mind he was worried. As the phone ‘burred’ its attempt to contact and rang loudly in Wally’s house Fulton stared at the hard face of Cobb sketched in the match light. Ginny answered the phone. It was near seven-thirty and she was worried about where Wally had got to. Jack put the phone down and called Mersey police, mentally saying a prayer for his friend’s safety.
Beaumont and David, having done their maps, ordered take away. Twenty minutes later they were sat comfortably in club chairs drinking coke and munching steadily.
“Anchovies and black olives!” Beaumont declared through a mouth full of pizza.
“Beats that tired and not a little weird ham and pineapple combination.” David replied.
“You say tomayto base etcetera?” Beaumont laughingly replied.
“There’s no accounting for taste.” David said flatly.
An announcement over the speaker system called them from their reverie. It asked for them and two other duty pairs specifically and called them to the offices. It was eight p.m.