Dover
10 – 30 a.m.
April 19th
David grabbed a handful of fruit from the bowl on the dining table. He sat in a comfortable armchair watching ‘SpongeBob’ and peeling a banana. Conor liked ‘SpongeBob’, but didn’t understand it very much, though David and Mary found it hilarious. Kids’ television had certainly got better since he was a kid. He bit into the banana, enjoying the moment and feeling justified in doing nothing for a while. He had felt tarnished by the last few days, exhausted by the intense travel and imminent sense of danger. He promised himself that he’d finish the banana, the large juicy orange and the fresh looking Gala apple and get back to work upstairs as soon as the episodes of the cartoon were over.
Stanton crawled from behind the shed at the top of the garden and sprinted the short distance to a larger shed nearer the house. The garden was twenty metres long and Stanton felt exposed until he was hidden from view by the old fashioned post war shed. He sidled along the exposed edge of it and made it to the shelter of the house. Crawling along on his stomach he got below the dining room window. He could see McKie watching television in the lounge as the dining room and lounge were ‘knocked through’. Stanton made his way around to the side of the house, climbed onto the roof of the kitchen extension and from there up the drain pipe to the roof. Using powerful arm and stomach muscles, amazingly agile for a man his age, he flipped his legs and torso feet first onto the roof tiles and slid his upper body and head afterwards. He spread his weight out and inched himself slowly up to the Velux window on the back of the house. The DIC technicians always put a roof window on both sides to let light into the attic. The one at the front was next to the large white satellite dish that David’s neighbour objected to.
The neighbour, Tom, a retired accountant went out into his garden to get the washing in for his wife as she had seen spots of rain on the front windows. He looked into the sky and his eye was caught by the sight of a pair of legs disappearing into the Velux window on David’s roof.
Tom wouldn’t have believed his eyes, but he wasn’t the kind to doubt them. He had been annoyed at the noise months before when the men had come and obviously done some kind of loft conversion and then there had been the satellite dish. He disliked changes to the locality. The nineteen thirties semi-detached houses on Elm’s Vale were a matter of pride for him; he lived in the house his parent’s had bought just before the war, he’d grown up there and he had a sense of ownership over the area. He was pleased to have a customs man living next door, good solid civil service job, but the changes to the house made him unhappy with his neighbour.
Tom had checked at the time of the changes and McKie didn’t need planning permission. Tom felt angry and thwarted by the changes to ‘his’ street. Now it seemed a man was climbing in windows that he had objected to. Tom would have rung the bell and told David that there was a man in his loft, but anger made him decide to make a point about the windows and their inconvenience. He went inside and called the police, but not nine, nine, nine. He called the Dover number and duly waited.
Up in the loft Stanton went over to the laptop, which had not been locked by password, and began looking at the DIC network. He wasn’t shocked by the news bulletins on Cobb and Mason. He knew Mason had nearly made it and he knew himself to be the last man of the five. He quickly read the details of the shooting and began searching elsewhere on the DIC network. He didn’t have long and he wanted information. He found the file with the full list of DIC agents in the UK and their locations. He found files with the location of DIC headquarters and details about the duty rotas. It was very useful information. He checked the list of building CCTV cameras and chose the lobby, where there were two. He saw the revolving door, two guards and the lifts behind the desk. He had a quick scan around Euston Tower, the armoury and data gathering rooms. He was impressed by the size and scale of the operation of what was an organisation that the British public knew nothing about.
On the desk were writeable DVD’s and he popped one into the drive and began copying the file. In the meantime he looked for a quick way into London on the internet. He decided on a National Express Coach and saw that there was a coach leaving at eleven am and got into London at one forty-five p.m. He noted the price of five pounds, he could easily cover that. It was ten thirty so he knew he had time to get to the National Express stop at Pencester Road, a ten minute run from where he was, according to the online map. He covered his tracks by deleting the history tool bar and all cookies. The file copying continued. He looked around the loft and saw the gun cabinet. He then looked around for a key and found it hanging high up from a roof beam. He retrieved the key and unlocked the cabinet. He took out the shiny Sig 220 ‘Rail’, added the silencer, put a clip in, pumped a round into the breach and clicked it to safe. Looking in the cabinet he saw the laser sight and fixed it to the ‘rail’ on the pistol. He twisted around looking at the laser dot. He turned to the computer and seeing the file downloaded, took out the disc, popped it in a jewel case and slid it inside his jacket. He covered his tracks on the file copying as best he could, but didn’t know that the DIC access work was logged and monitored. The fact that the files had been copied registered on McKie’s ICT usage log at Euston Tower. Stanton was just making for the window when he heard the hatch being opened.
Cartoons over David went back to work. He pulled the ladder down and climbed up into the loft. Too late the personal danger signal hairs on his neck told him someone was there. He felt the cold muzzle of the pistol against the back of his neck.
“Climb in slowly, knowing that I’m taking a step back and this weapon has the laser dot sighting so I can fire accurately in this half light.”
David climbed into the loft, stood up slowly with his hands on his head. He turned around to face his assailant and stared straight into the eyes of Stanton. Stanton the killer from Perth, murderer of Griffiths and others and now was it his turn to be killed by him? How had he got there? How had he got in? Why was he there?
“What’s your name?” Stanton hissed.
“McKie, David McKie, you’d be Trevor Stanton right?”
“That’s correct.”
“I saw you at Perth. You had a goatee then.”
“I saw you in Glasgow too my friend.” Stanton’s bared teeth were as close to a smile as McKie imagined the man got.
“Glasgow?”
“Yes, after you’d killed Wheeler.”
“Motherwell? Were you following me?” David was astounded and a little unnerved.
“No. Our paths have crossed accidentally, which is unfortunate for you.”
“You came into Dover by boat, but you saw me and came here… you want revenge for Wheeler, that’s not very professional!”
David, palms sweating and heart thudding, remembered his training. He probed the man a little, a little needling, a small wind up might make the man react less rationally and, as he’d been taught, that might give him the ‘chance’ he needed. David felt as if the red dot from the laser sight would burn through his chest if it stayed there any longer.
“Believe me it’s purely professional and I’m not here for revenge. Now I need you to sit in your chair. Move carefully, hands where I can see them.” David hadn’t unsettled the assassin, Stanton remained calm.
David moved to the chair and sat down. He looked at the screen. There was no way to send a message about what was going to happen. They’d find him in the loft, killed by his own pistol. Mary wasn’t due home yet. He prayed that Stanton would leave before they got home. The thought of Mary and Conor at the mercy of Stanton made the anger rise McKie. He felt Stanton move behind him.
“You’re no killer McKie. I can see it in your eyes. Saddened about the sanctioned murder of Wheeler you sat at this desk and committed suicide. Put your hands on the keyboard McKie.”
David put his hands on the keyboard, but he put his feet between the ‘spoke’ like floor supports of his office swivel chair and tensed his leg muscles. Stanton was right behind him and placed the barrel of the pistol to McKie’s right temple.
McKie pushed both his feet against the edges of the supports, sending the chair in a clockwise spin, turning his head and body through ninety degrees. It was the micro second turning of body and head that made the bullet pass within an inch of his face. Even with the silencer the discharged weapon deafened his right ear. McKie’s hands cross cut Stanton’s weapon hand sending the Sig clattering to the floor near the desk. Stanton lashed out with his left hand sending David falling backwards, the chair tipping back, but David hooked his left leg under the desk, stopping his backwards fall. He lifted his right leg in a swift vertical movement and slammed his shin into the side of Stanton’s head. Stanton stumbled backwards and fell over near the loft hatch, heavily stunned.
David’s chair tipped forwards again and he dived for the floor, grabbed the Sig and stood up in a twisting turn. Upright he was facing Stanton, now standing just in front of the hatch. The red dot of the laser sight sat between Stanton’s eyes.
“You going to kill me McKie? An unarmed man killed in cold blood.”
“No. Turn around and kneel down. I’m taking you in.”
“I’d rather die and you’re going to have to kill me, which you won’t, you’re not the type. What now?”
The door bell rang down stairs and through the Velux they heard “Mr McKie it’s the police.”
McKie smiled, but was unnerved by Stanton smiling too.
Stanton took a step back and dropped through the hatch feet first, landing on a rung half way down the vertical ladder and in a twisting turn dived head first down the stair well. McKie ran to the hatch, looked down and saw nothing. He heard bumping down the stairs.
Stanton executed a single roll down the stairs, landed on his feet and opened the front door. He kicked the policeman in the stomach and knocked him out with his rising knee meeting the constable’s head. The second policeman pulled his baton, but Stanton parried it and flipped the man on his back, kicking him across the jaw, rendering him unconscious.
Stanton ran from the house and sprinted up the road. David came down the stairs and hurdled the unconscious policemen. Tom the neighbour watched horrified from his front garden as McKie gave chase, unarmed, knowing Stanton to be unarmed and wanting him alive.
David was faster than Stanton and Stanton felt the closing foot fall of the athletic Scotsman as they got to the Folkestone Road.
A huge container lorry, late for the ferry, mistakenly having taken the B2011 exit, near Hougham, off the A20, came thundering down the Folkestone Road. Stanton felt it coming, turned, looked and saw McKie three metres behind Stanton veered into the wake of the passing lorry and jumped. His hands gripped the upright metal bar of the container lock and he clung on. His feet hung in the air for a moment and then he got his feet on the light and registration plate bar of the trailer.
David desperately chased the lorry down the Folkestone Road, but the driver was running late and at forty miles an hour over a half mile the truck outpaced the running man. McKie kept chasing, but the lorry had disappeared down York Road towards the terminal, when he got to the roundabout. McKie stood panting for breath, hands on knees. He needed to get back to the house and contact DIC and the police. He wrongly assumed Stanton was headed for the marina. He turned and ran back as fast as he could towards Elm’s Vale.
Stanton headed straight for Pencester Road, after dropping off the back of the lorry on York Road and doing a circuit of Pencester Gardens. Stanton waited outside the bus station, aware of the CCTV. It was ten fifty, ten minutes before the coach left. Stanton wondered what to do, how to get on the coach without being seen by CCTV.
Back at Elm’s Vale Tom the neighbour had called an ambulance and David was greeted by Police, Ambulance men and a lot of questions. David walked straight past all the people on his door step, went to his coat and got out his DIC pass. He turned on the police man in his door way.
“Check this badge please.”
The policeman read it.
“I see sir. I still need to know what happened here.”
“Come on in and close the door and we can talk in private.” David nodded towards the gathering group of neighbours.
“Yes sir, can we bring the injured men in here?”
“Of course.”
They all decamped into the lounge and David excused himself for a moment, went to the loft and fired off an alert on Stanton. DIC Euston scanned the CCTV for Dover town centre. Back in his lounge David explained the situation and the policeman sent out an alert. Police in the area began combing the streets and some were despatched to the harbour, where they found the stolen boat and Stanton’s weapon.
Back at Pencester Road bus station Stanton’s idea was good. There were no cameras at the exit to the bus station so he waited there. He was blessed with good fortune as foot patrols were sent into the bus station first, to check for Stanton. They boarded and checked the London National Express coach, but found no-one and after they got off the doors closed and the coach swung in a wide arc to exit the station. The driver pulled up and braked sharply as a man suddenly appeared in front of the coach. The coach driver noted the man’s waving arms and gave a smile. No-one took any notice of the coach stopped in the exit and the police had already turned their attention to the ticket office to ask if anyone of Stanton’s description had bought a ticket.
Yards away the man they wanted stood in front of the stopped coach holding up a five pound note.
“Silly sod risking his life to catch a coach,” the driver said and he opened the door. Stanton ran around and stepped aboard.
“Sorry and thanks for opening the door. I was running late.”
“You want to be careful mate, you could get yourself killed, better late than never, they say.”
“Sorry. Thanks again.” Stanton looked humbled and grateful.” Ticket for London please?” He proffered the fiver.
He bought the ticket and settled into a seat by the window at the front. The coach pulled out of the station at last and Stanton had made his escape, unseen and heading into London.
Back in Elm’s Vale the police made heavy weather of the situation. David evaded all questions fired at him. He gave the rehearsed excuse of DIC that he was ‘Civil Service’ and that he had obviously been compromised by one of the ‘terrorists’ that everyone was on the alert for. When everything had been cleared and Jack Fulton had made phone calls and pulled rank, to fend off too many questions being asked of David, the police left and David alone in his lounge made for the drinks cabinet and poured out some Glenmorangie single malt in a good stiff measure.
Sat in his armchair he looked at the time. Mary was due home in fifteen minutes and he knew he’d have to tell her. He downed the scotch, felt the warmth of the ‘burn’ and the Valium like power of the drink to sooth nerves. He picked up the phone.
The first call to his father was easy. He told the story briefly and clearly as his father had demanded he did of all incidents from childhood to university. He asked for his father’s help and the old soldier said he’d be there in a few hours, stating that he’d catch a plane. David put the phone down glowing with warmth at the manly camaraderie he shared with his father, a man to rely on in a crisis. David’s father readied himself and prepared to ‘move out’ with the military discipline he kept as a ramrod for such occasions. His son’s family needed him.
The second call was less easy.
“No David.” Fulton’s voice was firm and clear, if not a little icy.
“I’m not waiting here to be a target, my family to be a target. I’m still supposed to be on duty rota and I want in on the chase.”
“You can’t make this personal.”
“I didn’t. He did and I’m going after him, now you can either back me or be prepared to sack me, but either way I’m going to help bring him in.”
There was a pause on the end of the line as Jack considered the situation. His knowledge of the rules told him to keep McKie away, but his forward thinking mind veered towards the fact that David McKie was a formidable team member and fully capable of dealing with the tough situations that were at the time being demanded of his duty teams.
“Okay David. Get here to Euston Tower. If anyone can get Stanton and has the edge to find him before he gets to the target I know you can.”
“Thanks Jack. I’ll be there in a couple of hours.
At his end of the phone Jack had a rueful look on his face. McKie did have a point, but all the same Fulton felt he was giving the man too much power. McKie still hadn’t seen Else Patrick. Jack booked an appointment with Else for McKie that afternoon.
Back in Dover Mary got home to find the black holdall in the hall. Conor jumped all over David, who hugged his son tightly until the boy struggled free and ran up to his room to get a toy he’d been thinking about. Mary pointed to the bag.
“You off again?”
“Yes.”
“I heard on the news there’s just one left you don’t have to go.”
“I do. The one left is Stanton and he was here, in our house and he tried to kill me.”
Mary’s hand went to her mouth.
“Dear God Davey, what the hell is going on.”
David took her into the lounge and told her what had happened. He was worried she’d say no and they’d row. Her face was pale and she hugged herself, chilled by the thoughts.
“I’ve got to go and make sure of him. The man’s evil.”
Mary nodded.
“That you have, but what about us here?”
“My father’s on the way. Call Mina and ask her to come over for company before I go. You’ll be alright.”
He hugged her and she held him tight then held him at arms length. He wasn’t wearing his suit. He had black jeans, a dark blue hooded fleece and his comfortable black leather trainer style shoes on. She knew he was dressed for comfort and that meant he had more in mind than making an impression.
“You find this man David and if you have to kill him, do it and don’t think for one minute I’m not behind you, because I am. No-one is safe with a man like that at large and free. If anyone can stop him it’s you, but you had better be careful.” Mary wasn’t going to stop him, she knew him too well and though she worried he might be in danger, she had learned not to stifle the adventurer in him.
Whilst waiting for Mina David checked his computer and messages. He read about Mason’s death and he watched the footage of the aftermath on the BBC website. He too wondered about the taxi driver. Would he reveal a street name or place that could be tied to a target?
So it was just one left, Trevor Stanton. David checked his pistol and packed the rucksack with his equipment.
Before he logged off and packed the laptop he acted on his curiosity about what Stanton had been doing in the loft. DIC technical control ran a remote check on his computer. They didn’t find the search for National Express, but to everyone’s concern the fact that the DIC staff name and location list had been downloaded came to light.
It was an emotional goodbye on both sides for man and wife. David nearly didn’t go, but the drive in him to find the man who had invaded his home and his peace of mind was stronger. Mary’s ‘come home safe’ was greeted with a firm nod and a hug. He was on his way and he didn’t look back to the door in case his determination failed him at that point.
By the time David got on the train at Dover Priory, bound for London, there was an emergency high level meeting of DIC ‘top brass’ going on at Euston Tower. DIC had been compromised. The information on the disk made it possible for anyone with it to expose DIC and its work. For the first time the department’s history a ‘stop at all costs’ and ‘shoot to kill’ order was given. Jack didn’t like it, but if DIC was exposed they’d be less effective. There were a lot of dodgy businessmen, corrupt politicians and immoral civil servants that would be delighted to know who had thwarted their schemes and underhanded dealings in the past and it would be the end of DIC.
By the end of the meeting Jack Fulton was extremely glad David McKie was back on the duty list. If there was one man determined to get Stanton it was him and at that moment Fulton felt no tinge of guilt at wanting that particular assassin dead. As he closed the door on his office Fulton’s thoughts turned to Sternway. Had the dirty tricks man planned this? Was the ultimate goal of the whole affair to expose and destroy DIC? Who was the assassin’s target?
On that thought Fulton called the hospital. The taxi driver wasn’t conscious yet. Where had he been taking Mason? Where was Stanton now?