London
4 p.m.
April 18th
After the landing at Stansted Airport David was taken by car around Long Border Road, along Coppice Road and through the Avenues to the airport plane parking area where there was a helicopter waiting to take him into central London.
The trip was different to the outward journey and David noted that London looked rather more mundane from air by daylight than it had at night. He mused on the fact that perhaps he had been full of expectation on the night journey out and on this return he was deflated and jaded.
As the helipad came into view below them David got more of a sense of the scale of the building than on the outward journey. He was not dwarfed or made to feel insecure by the sense of the huge machine of which he was a part. He felt a certain relief and comfort in coming in to land on the top of his base. He had felt alone and isolated at times on the ‘mission’, but as the helicopter bumped down the strength of the department and the threads of its power stretching across the country imbued him with a sense that the remaining assassins would be brought to book one way or another.
Out of the helicopter it was windy on the roof and he quickly made his way to the lift and into the warm conditioned air. After the short lift ride he made his way to Jack’s office. Magda told him to wait in a chair and gave him a warm smile.
David was lost in his thoughts for some minutes when the sharp opening of the office door and Jack’s friendly tones beckoned him in.
“David. Good to see you back safely come in. Magda hold all calls until further notice.”
David sat in the chair opposite Jack’s and looked at the grey sky and gloomy clouds held at bay by the thick protective glass of the DIC building. Jack sat opposite. David looked at the desk and saw a Sig 220 and two full magazines of ammunition lying beside it. They were stark against the scattered papers. He refocused his eyes on his boss’ face.
“Well the good news is that Jack Beaumont will make a full recovery. I’ll need a report, but you can type that and e-mail it tomorrow. By all accounts Wheeler was a nasty piece of work and the kill was necessary, even unavoidable. I’ve seen the bus station CCTV. I’m amending procedures for active rota at the moment since the last two incidents.”
“I’m sorry Jack it was all a bit intense and not at all as easy as it appeared to be at first sight.” David said.
“You needn’t be sorry. Aside from the lack of DIC fatalities you did the job well. I can tell you that everyone in this building is speaking highly of you right now.” Jack said looking at McKie with keenly focussed eyes.
David raised an eyebrow.
“Oh yes.” Jack continued. “There are less than fifteen people in this building who’ve had to kill either as a part of this job or the job they had when we head hunted them and they are the most impressed. You join an elite cohort of DIC workers who’ve had to use a weapon and the immunity to prosecution that the DIC badge bestows. If you like the David McKie legend begins here.” Jack finished tapping his desk.
“I hope it ends here too, sorry, but this is a little more brawn and much less brains than I had bargained for.” David replied quite seriously.
“I’m glad to hear that or you’d not be the man I hired, but I hope you’re not going to leave us. I know you were in at the deep end from the start, but I have every faith in you, in fact no-one could have handled that duty ‘mission’ better. Many would have hesitated to pull the trigger. Most would be awed by the responsibility of such a task.” Jack was taken aback by David’s remarks and it showed in the tone of his voice.
“Thank you. No I don’t want to leave, but I would like to go home and spend time in front of the screen monitoring.”
“And you will David. I’ve had your things packed and there’s a car waiting to take you to Charing Cross station. The counsellor will call next week to make sure that you don’t get post traumatic stress disorder.”
“Any news on Cobb, Mason or Stanton?”
“No. Cobb’s certainly in London. Mason must be here by now if the police car in St Albans is his handy work. Lord knows where Stanton is. Perhaps Monty will run him to earth.” Jack rose from his seat speaking. “Well it’s time for you to go home and I have things to do. I have to arrange for my deputy to take over whilst I go to Wally’s funeral.”
“I’m sorry about that. Did you know him well?” David asked glancing at the pistols on the desk.
“Yes he and I were partners on a DIC active rota in the eighties. He saved my life. He was one of those staff I mentioned who killed in line of duty.” Jack paused and picked up the pistol turning it over in his hands. “Sadly because of the shock of the kill he didn’t like to carry his gun after that, nor did he like the idea of killing again.”
Jack Fulton laid the Sig gently on the desk and suddenly reminded by the unused pistol David got up and grabbing his bag pulled Beaumont’s pistol, in a plastic police labelled bag, from his rucksack. He put it on the desk. He then added the laptop and cell phone.
“Beaumont’s.”
“Thank you.”
When David exited the office his overnight bag was waiting. He took the lift directly to the ground floor and went out through security. As he put his hand on the biometric pad his details were flagged up on the security screen. The desk section opened and he passed out. He felt the eyes of the security staff on him and turned to meet the gazes of the three men.
“See you soon Mr McKie.”
“Yeah safe journey home too.”
David smiled and in their eyes and across their faces he read some admiration and respect. Word really had got round the building. He smiled back.
“See you soon.” He replied smiling.
The revolving door eased him slowly out of the building and into the waiting car. The driver pulled into traffic, knowing where they were going. There was no talk, but David saw in the mirror the glances from the pool driver and in his eyes he read admiration too. The word had certainly got round that was for sure. David didn’t feel all that comfortable with such hero worship though.