London
Hampstead
Midnight
A tangle of bed ruffled long blonde hair spilled out across the top of a thick plush purple duvet cover. As the phone rang Sternway’s head surfaced from the undulating silk waves and the blonde hair sank beneath them with a groan.
“Yes.”
Stella curled up foetal dreading the not unknown night phone calls. Sternway listened to the voice on the line, put the phone down, unfolded himself from the bed and donning dressing gown and slippers descended first to his kitchen, putting the kettle on, and second to his lounge, flicking the television on with the remote. He flipped through the sky guide with practised ease and found his way to BBC News 24.
Having made a cup of tea he sat down on the mahogany brown leather sofa, put his feet up on the pouf and took reflective sip of tea. It was just after midnight.
On the screen he watched the unfolding drama of the post shooting scene at Perth.
“What exactly are the authorities saying Tom.”
The journalist, outside the station, flashing blue lights behind him, drizzle sparkling in the haze, paused to hear the satellite delayed question.
“It seems that there was an organised trap for as yet unknown assailants on the train. The train was stopped and armed police were waiting. The train was being emptied when it seems one of the wanted men got onto the track and there was a shoot out with police. He was killed by the police. His partner it seems was hidden on the train and killed a dog handler; the dog was drugged and the second man, disguised as the dog handler, fled up the platform, shooting the dog just out of sight of the station. Police helicopters have been searching over head and the police are checking the river, which is just over that way the other side of South Inch Park.”
“Was anyone else hurt Tom.”
“It seems not. The passengers have been taken on in coaches and Scotrail staff members are now at a nearby hotel waiting to be interviewed.”
“Is there any indication of who these men were?”
“Not yet, but we are expecting a statement from the chief constable sometime soon.”
The view returned to the studio with the insert of the scene top right.
“Tom Harris there at the scene of a police shooting Perth Railway Station and other breaking news tonight is that of a double murder at the Mersey marina. Police called there apparently by security services found two bodies, one of them is thought to be the night watchman.”
Sternway turned off the TV. He picked up the phone. Thirty metres away in the next door garden an uncomfortable DIC operative listened carefully, glancing around nervously, the gun mike signal coming and going. They couldn’t tap Sternway’s phone for sure.
“Do you know who was shot Joe?”
“Our reports say it was Marco Spencer.”
“That’s embarrassing one of our ex operatives.”
“Yes.”
“What about this Marina business?”
“It looks like a DIC operative has been murdered.”
“These men are leaving a lot of bodies behind.”
“Yes sir.”
“Still DIC look like they’re being put to the test and I can’t say that makes me unhappy.”
“No sir.”
“Okay I’ll see you first thing and you can brief me properly.”
In the bushes the cold and hungry DIC operative sighed heavily. It was teasingly close to Sternway showing knowledge, but vague enough for it to be a natural interest on Sternway’s part in terrorist activities in the UK.