Euston Tower
8 – 45 p.m.
April 17th
Fulton was leaning against the table in the duty rota common area. There were three team pairs around him.
“Wally Tyson is missing. He was checking the Liverpool marina, Brunswick Lock, on the Mersey. He went out before my ‘go armed’ call around five.” Jack paused. “He’s almost certainly dead, if he ran into Cobb, which I’m sure he did. I’ve called the police and they’re checking the Marina. They’re due to call me. The thing is if Wally turns up dead it’s a murder investigation.” He paused again, struggling. “He’s one of us. I’ll be sending teams to that area, but I’ll be sending teams chasing Cobb. You’re those teams. I’ll want Cobb alive, but make no mistake I want him brought in. The police can’t move across counties and don’t have anything near our resources…”
In his peripheral vision he caught a waiting messenger.
“One at Inverness station, he boarded the sleeper.”
“Which one?”
The messenger spoke excitedly, almost breathless.
“Marco Spencer. We called the police, but the train leaves in two minutes. Armed police are their way…”
“Call them back. I’ve a plan. Get me the train times for the London sleeper out of Inverness and a map of the various stops.” Fulton turned back to the gathered duty team pairs. “Magda’s organised a helicopter transport to take all of you to Stansted, then you can fly to Liverpool. The jet can take one pair to the planned stop for the sleeper train.”
They went down in the lift to a viewing room. Up on a screen was CCTV footage of Spencer at the ticket desk and showed him walking away. McKie noted that the man at the next window seemed difficult to see clearly, in spite of being right in view of a camera; it jarred slightly with him and he was about to mention it when the view on the screen was replaced with the map of the route and a timetable.
“Right, I’ve called the police off for now, they agree. Surrounding the train station and disembarking all the passengers makes sure that no innocent people get killed. Looking at the map the best stop will be Perth. The train gets there around eleven o’clock tonight, which gives us two hours. I’ll call the Scottish police and get the trap in place.” He turned to the three pairs. “ Shadz and Terry I want you to go to Wally’s house and see his wife Ginny. Jaz and Tony I want you to meet the police at the Liverpool marina, a place called Brunswick Lock. Beaumont and David I’m sending you on to Perth. You’d all better go and pack overnight bags. Get your rucksacks, weapons and surveillance equipment. Wear your hand guns in shoulder holsters and have your diplomatic passes ready. Off you go.”
Ten minutes later three pairs met on the roof, just outside the shelter of the doorway. Behind them the receiving equipment, phone masts, array of five large dishes and complex analogue and digital signal aerials, sat in silhouette like one vast alien robot. In front of them the helicopter landing pad, lit up, created a sense of impending adventure, a stark step into the dark sky.
On the roof McKie suddenly felt afraid, it all seemed so dramatic and intense. Customs had its unnerving moments, especially at Dover, but the news of Wally’s possible death, of which Fulton seemed so sure now, made the helicopter ride ahead seem like being fired like a flare into a tomb. McKie’s grim thoughts were interrupted by a sudden shocking remembrance.
“I haven’t called my wife.” Beaumont turned from watching the sky, from which, through the wind and drizzle, there was the distance chatter of a helicopter.
“Me either.
“I said I would.”
Beaumont touched his arm. “Don’t worry. Call her with the satellite phone on the jet.” David nodded.
The three pairs, relative strangers, had joined each other the roof with bags. McKie, having seen them around took them in for the first time. He noted that Jazmin, or Jaz as she preferred to be called, reminded him of a Gladiators competitor, blonde, strong physique and intelligent focussed eyes. Shadz was a cool Indian man in his mid twenties. He was dressed immaculately, down to polished brogues, the slight purple tint in the grey suit matched by lilac shirt and deep purple silk tie. He had neat hair and a warm smile. His mathematical background made him sharp minded and he kept in good shape playing squash. Terry was a short stocky Liverpudlian. He had the build of an Olympic weight lifter and was an engineering graduate. Tony Deany was the joker in the pack. A tall man with the trace of an American accent, New York no less, he looked more like the kind of men they were chasing.
This formidable team were hailed by Jack Fulton as he joined them on the roof.
“Good to see you all ready. Every now and again there’s a serious threat to deal with amongst the everyday problems of cheating, stealing and murder committed by government ministers, their support staff, police and other government paid services. This is one of them. There are assassins loose in the country. We have to stop them. Take care. Call in regularly and stay in contact. Every place you go to will have one of us there to support you. This isn’t a job for a lone ranger. Work with the team and know we’re behind you.” He gave each a firm handshake. “I’m going in to liaise with the police in Liverpool and Perth.”
“You nervous?” Tony asked David, knowing him to be new.
“Yes some first day at work. I can’t believe we’re going armed to chase and catch hired assassins.”
“Armed police will go ahead of us and there’s nothing says we have to take these men on. They’ll be outnumbered.”
“You seem confident Tony. Have you experienced this before?”
“I was New York police.”
“What brings you here?”
“Dual nationality, my mother’s English. When my father died my mother wanted to come back to the UK. I came back to look after mom and joined the Met. DIC recruited me and here I am.”
“Have you faced someone with a gun before?”
“Sure and I’ve killed. It happens quite fast, you get upset, if you’re normal, and then when you know they’d have killed you you’re relieved.”
“It makes the stomach ache thinking about it.”
“That’s natural. If you don’t get that then you’re not normal. When the moment comes, if it comes, the training kicks in and you just do it.”
“I hope so, but right now I hope I don’t need to use the training.”
Beaumont, who had been listening, said “Oh now you’re less keen to use that weapon!”
“I’m feeling less brie like right now.”
Tony raised a quizzical eyebrow. “A metaphor we were discussing.” Tony nodded and laughed.
“Are you nervous?” Beaumont asked his partner.
“Yes. Chasing assassins is a first for me. Have you been in a helicopter before?”
“Yes. Security and bodyguard work so it’s not the thought of the flight that’s making me nervous.”
“Well I’ve never been in a helicopter before and it is making me nervous along with everything else.”
They all watched the approaching lights and stopped talking as the noise of the machine grew louder.
The Eurocopter EC135 flew in, slowly descended, and when the blades unwound to a clicking stop Beaumont, McKie and the others hunched their way to the open door and climbed in. Seatbelts and headphones on they felt the machine wind itself up and lift into the London sky.
They sat in their pairs. Beaumont was not inclined to look out the window, but McKie couldn’t tear his eyes away from the night lit cityscape below. The yellow and red dots, the lit up roadways, car lights and a million windows, behind which dinners were being eaten, love was being made, hate was being brewed and the infinite combinations of tragedy and comedy were being played out into the blank unwritten pages of so many small personal histories. McKie sat enthralled, lost in speculation, until he registered their descent and the sight of airport lights brought him back to the matter in hand.
They left the helicopter behind, the DIC machine, slick and organised had them there on time and the white Lear jet60 XR was fuelled and waiting with a quickly booked emergency government slot in the air traffic flow out of Stansted. Within minutes the small, but powerful and iconic jet had slammed them back in their seats and was manoeuvring into the skyway traffic system above the UK mainland.