To Kill Or Be Killed (10 page)

Wally and the
watch man did emerge, clambered off the boat, Wally doing most of
the talking. Cobb heard the words ‘police’ and ‘alert’ and ‘CCTV’
footage’. He let them get four metres down the jetty and gave each
a silenced shot in the back of the head within a second. Each
victim pitched forward, damaged beyond repair and spiralling
downwards brain dead they fell to earth near lifeless. Cobb was on
his feet in a moment he stood over them and put a round in each
heart. It had taken mere seconds to stop the life in them simply
because of their inconvenience. The young watch man and Wally lay
on the jetty like landed fish in the last gasps of drowning, small,
pathetic after death twitches moving muscles as the last nervous
signals pulsed and faded in their finished bodies.

The last light
of the day saw Charley busy. Glad for the harbour water, simply for
hiding the bodies and washing the blood he got to work. He checked
the bodies for identification and car keys. He didn’t pause to muse
over the pictures of himself and the others he took from Wally’s
corpse and the even more curious diplomatic badge with Wally’s
picture on it; he put them in his pocket with a definite view to
looking at them later. He took what little money they had, frowning
at Wally’s wallet pictures of Tara and Ginny. Who sent a family man
to deal with a killer like him?

He found the
cars, cut the tyres from the spares, took the jacks and rims for
weight. The Sheets and duvet cover from his boat wrapped the
bodies, tied by spare mooring rope from his boat. Weighted he
lowered them into the marina waters, below the jetty, he knew the
weight wasn’t quite enough and hoped they’d be hidden an extra day
bobbing against the underside of the wood. He washed the jetty down
quickly with three buckets, sloshing the blood away.

Looking around
he saw the lights of the city, tens of thousands of people, but not
one near enough to witness his actions. Cobb went back to the gate,
picked up the now cold take away and his rucksack.

One remote key
blipped a Peugeot 207 hatch back. The other key opened the old red
Fiesta. He drove this out the gate and parked it on Hill Street. He
walked back to the Marina, always looking around. He locked the
office. Happily settled in the Peugeot 207 he drove away,
Manchester bound.

‘So much for
the quiet night’ in he thought pointing the car towards the M62. As
he drove he wondered how the authorities had so quickly got
pictures of all of them. He knew his picture was a sketch,
seemingly lit by a glow? Could they have seen them that morning? It
was impossible surely? Charlie was suddenly very worried. The whole
situation looked and smelled like a set up.

Chapter
29

Leicester

5 - 30 p.m.

April 17th

It was the same
thoughts which led Mason to get off the London train at Leicester.
He was happily settled on the train, feeling warm and comfortable
and then he started thinking about the submarine. It had told him
from the start that it was a government job. Someone in power had
given the green light to an assassination in the UK. He had thought
it sensible to send five of them to make sure the job got done, but
now that he thought of it, he was struck by the thought that there
was something odd about it. He knew they’d gone in Scotland to
avoid detection, but who were they avoiding. If the target was
someone important they’d be guarded. If it was someone in secret
service it made more sense that they came in from a remote place.
Then it struck him. Stanton had chosen to hitch because he was
avoiding CCTV and centres that meant that Stanton, who’d been far
from chatty those two weeks on the sub, knew something they didn’t
or at least had worked out what he was working out now.

The idea got
into Mason’s head that whoever they were going to kill would have
security that were watching for assassins. He’d made up his mind to
get off the train and find transport that involved him being away
from the public when Leicester station was announced. He grabbed
his bag and stepped onto the platform into lashing rain.

He asked the
ticket barrier guard for directions to a supermarket and was told
the nearest one was the Tesco along the Uppingham Road and that a
747 bus would take him there. He had to make his way up to the
Humberstone Gate and found the stops there. He stood waiting for
the bus, the rain hammering onto the bus shelter roof.

Leicester
public transport is known for its efficiency and the 747 bus
arrived within minutes and Mason was at the Tesco quicker than he’d
expected.

He was
wandering the car park waiting for the right person and vehicle to
show up and it was becoming a problem. He needed a car that was
overloaded at the back, the boot lid held down by rope because wood
was sticking out or something. It was either that or a van that was
overloaded at the back or had a broken back door handle.

Mason had spent
half an hour in the car park looking suitably fuddled in case
someone asked him what he was doing. He created a part for himself
in case security came over. He decided to be a man with mental
health problems who couldn’t find his daughter and the car. This
was his lie and he worked it over in his head, mentally doing the
voice and visualising the facial expressions.

He needn’t have
worried as the rain was making people more concerned with
themselves than anyone else.

He was going to
give up, feeling exposed, when he saw a plumber’s van with faded
writing, blue on white, ‘David Barrett Plumbing & Heating
Engineer’ on the sides. It pulled into a space half way up the row
he was walking along. Mason had seen it so easily because the small
van had a bath sticking out the back and bungee straps holding the
door.

Mason watched
David, presumably, get out lock the van doors and do that half run
half walk people do so embarrassingly into the Tesco entrance.

As soon as the
man was out of sight he walked to the van, unclipped the bungee
straps and pulled the bath out, which was thankfully coated PVC and
not cast iron, laying it behind the car to his left. He climbed
through into the driver’s seat, grabbing a screw driver on the way.
Half a minute’s quick work and the van had started. He was pulling
out when, as an afterthought, he pulled the bath into the space and
popped the plug in.

As he drove
away the bath began filling with rain water. Mr Barrett would think
one of his mates was having a laugh and might not call the police
for a while before he’d checked. Mason was spot on. Dave Barrett
didn’t call the police. On seeing the bath where his van had been
he simply stopped being amazed at the lack of his van and rang his
mate.

“Alright Jimmy
bring my van back.”

The
conversation went on and the more Jimmy, who was in a pub, denied
it the more Dave Barrett didn’t believe him. Mason was heading out
to the M1 via East Park Road in the direction of the 5199. He
decided to stop at Bedford for the night. He watched his speed as
he hit the big motorway, easing into the fast moving traffic and
playing it safe.

Chapter
30

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.

Chapter
31

Mersey Marina

8 p.m.

April 17th

On the basis of
Jack Fulton’s phone call to Mersey Police two constables had been
despatched to the marina with armed back up from one special unit.
Two armed police went ahead, the two regular constables followed,
shining torches and a last armed policeman followed them, covering
the rear. They searched the marina and jetties for any signs of
life. There was a black shadow movement which made them all tense
and relax as a cat jumped off a sleek white yacht. With no collar,
rather dirty and thin looking, it had to be one of Liverpool’s
million strays. The marina was all in darkness.

Assuming Jack
Fulton was right every boat had to be checked. Whilst one constable
radioed this conclusion the other one decided to walk the jetties
probing the ground with his torch. To his mind if there had been a
murder here there might be one small sign. He moved off walking
back over the planks his sweeping torch moved ahead of him. In the
background his colleague’s radio crackled management unhappiness,
he heard an approximate number of boats mentioned and then his
torch lit the cat’s green eyes, jolting him again. The cat was near
another boat now, two down from the sleek yacht, a scruffy looking
ocean going cruiser, a small one. The constable was about to carry
on when he saw the cat licking at a small white fragment close to a
mooring post.

It would have
taken hours to search every boat, but they didn’t have to. The
constable had approached the cat, it had moved away, leaving the
licked clean fragment. When he picked it up the constable knew at
once it was a curved bone fragment, more than likely part of a
skull. He called his colleagues.

Within half an
hour the Marina manager was on site. They’d established that the
watch man was missing and found Wally’s car. Police divers were
standing on the jetty by Cobb’s boat and police were standing on
Cobb’s boat having searched it and noted the missing bed linen. The
sharp eyed constable was feeding the cat some chocolate. Crime
scene investigators were on their way and the place was filling
up.

The chief
constable rang Jack Fulton. Fulton upset as he was asked the name
of the constable who had seen the cat licking the bone fragment. PC
Jamie Ford he was told and he noted the name down on his desk
pad.

Chapter
32

Inverness

8- 30 p.m.

April 17th