Authors: Angie Smith
“He’ll be discredited. Faulkner-Brown will have it
covered.”
“Will he?” Woods grinned.
The door opened and Pauline marched in with Barnes,
Simonstone and Inwood. She went straight to Plant and slapped him hard across
the face. “I want you out of my life. Take your things and get out now; I never
want to see your despicable face again.” She turned to Simonstone and Inwood. “Get
the guards and escort this abhorrent individual off my property.”
As requested, Inwood spoke on the two-way radio and
summoned help.
“Pauline, don’t believe a word they say. I can
explain.”
“I’ve had enough of your explanations. Everything
you say is a lie. My mother always told me that you could never believe a liar,
even when they were telling the truth. Now for the last time get out of my
house.”
Woods looked at Pauline; she was trembling. “I’ll
escort him off the premises.”
Plant huffed, “I’m not going anywhere until I’ve
spoken to Faulkner-Brown.”
“You can do that after you’ve left,” said Woods,
standing and walking over to him. “Come on Sunshine. Time to go.”
Simonstone and Inwood went to assist as two more
guards entered the room.
Plant stood. “I need to collect my things. There’s
no need for a scene.”
“You know where they are. Go with him and make sure
he doesn’t touch anything of mine,” Pauline snarled.
“And make sure he doesn’t ring anyone until he’s off
the premises,” Woods added.
“You’ll not get away with this. Faulkner-Brown will
have you kicked out of the police; both your careers are over.”
“How are his family?” Barnes piped up.
Plant glared at her. “You’re the one who’s
despicable; at least I work in the national interest.”
“How was murdering the Mathewsons’ children in the
national interest?”
“I don’t question orders or make moral judgements; I
do what I’m paid to do.”
“Were you paid to become friendly with Pauline? Is
that it? Is this Faulkner-Brown’s doing?”
“No it was not.”
Barnes smiled. “I wonder what Williams has in store
for you. What he did to Ramírez was probably an indication of what lies ahead.
You’d better ring Faulkner-Brown and ask him what to do next.”
“That’s enough, Maria,” Woods said. “We’ve got work
to do.”
The guards escorted Plant out. When he’d gone
Pauline turned to Woods. “Thank you,” she said, kissing him on the cheek.
He forced an unconvincing smile. “The jet’s waiting
to take you to Gerrard,” he said. “Will the farmhouse be okay while you’re
away?”
She nodded. “I’ll organise for a couple of the
guards to stay here, and for the livestock and dogs to be looked after. I’m not
sure how long I’ll be there, but I’ll sort something out. I just want to get to
Gerrard before it’s too late.”
“We’ll stay with you until Plant’s off the
premises,” he said.
“He’ll need his two chums from up on the hills to
come down and collect him. His Mercedes has suddenly developed a fault,” Barnes
said, smiling.
“What have you done?”
“Disabled it. This way we won’t have company on the
way back to Wakefield.”
Woods’ nose twitched. “Nevertheless, he’ll need to
collect it at some time.”
“No,” Pauline snapped. “I’ll have the guards tow it
to a layby; he can whistle. He’ll never set foot in here again.”
They waited until Plant was collected from outside
the main gates and then Woods immediately telephoned George Hooper’s men. “He’s
leaving. For goodness sake don’t lose him.” He turned to Barnes. “Time to go.”
He watched as Pauline hugged her.
“Maria, thank you for believing in Gerrard,” she
said. “I knew he wasn’t the monster people think him to be.”
“I know that,” Barnes replied.
Faulkner-Brown received Plant’s
call at 12.53 p.m. He listened with increasing anxiety as the morning’s events,
which had unfolded at the farmhouse, were relayed to him. “I can’t reach Dudley;
he’s not returning my calls or texts,” he said.
“What do you need me to do?”
“Come to Wakefield. We’ll regroup. I’ll speak to
Guilford-Johnston; find out what he’s playing at. In my opinion he’s jumped too
soon; he’s obviously lost faith in us. I’m also going to speak to the Home
Secretary; if Woods received the information from either Williams or Crean,
then the investigation is compromised and I can retrieve the situation,
provided I can convince Guilford-Johnston we can silence Williams. I’ll update
you when you arrive.”
“What about Barnes? She made reference to your
family.”
“We need to discredit her.”
“Can’t we arrange for some compelling evidence to be
discovered in her flat?”
“Yes, but at the moment I’m receiving negative vibes
from HQ, and I’m getting the distinct impression we’ll be hung out to dry if
the situation deteriorates. I can’t afford any more mishaps. I need to speak to
several people before we decide on our next move.”
Woods and Barnes returned to the
Incident Room at 3.05 p.m. as Foster and Hooper stood watching the live
broadcast of Henry Guilford-Johnston’s resignation statement. Woods hurried
over, but the short statement had ended and the former MP was not answering
questions. The news commentators were reviewing the salient points.
“What did he have to say?” Woods asked Foster.
“Nothing of note; just that personal circumstances
dictated he leave the government.”
“What about this morning?”
Foster smiled. “He was perturbed by the amount of
classified information we’d uncovered. He said there’d have to be an enquiry,
but he suspected he knew where the leak occurred. The reports will have to be
given to the Intelligence Service, and any copies you’ve made will have to be
destroyed. I understand someone will be speaking to the Chief Constable about
this.”
“I bet they will,” said Woods, having no intention
of destroying the copies he and Barnes had taken.
“Guilford-Johnston admitted being aware of
Williams,” Foster continued. “He knew about the undercover operation in Russia,
and had already worked out that he and Plant were likely to be the two final
victims. He said he’d been given assurances that Williams was — as he put it —
being taken care of, but his confidence in the operation commander had
diminished. He’s worried that he’s now under threat not only from Williams but
also Faulkner-Brown and Plant. He said he knew nothing about the attempt on
your life and appeared shocked by the news. He said he’ll cooperate fully with the
investigation.”
“Is he now under protection?”
Foster nodded. “Faulkner-Brown’s trying to speak to
the Chief Constable, who’s playing elusive, that is, until he’s spoken to the
Intelligence Service.”
Woods turned to Hooper. “Any news?”
“Plant’s in Wakefield at the hotel with
Faulkner-Brown. His two chums dropped him off and appear to be heading back to
the farmhouse. But, as you know, Pauline’s already left and there are only a
couple of guards patrolling the grounds.”
Woods nodded. “I over-emphasised Guilford-Johnston’s
concern about being under threat from the Security Services. I’m assuming
Faulkner-Brown will try to make contact with him, and as Dudley’s in the cells
I suspect he’ll despatch Plant. Therefore it’s critical that your guys don’t
lose sight of him.” He turned to Foster. “If we can manipulate the situation
where Plant and Guilford-Johnston are in close proximity to one another, that
might prompt Williams into action and we can be ready.”
“Fingers crossed everything goes to plan then,”
Foster said.
Woods turned around and noticed Barnes speaking on
the phone at the far side of the room. “Is everything alright, Maria?” he
called over.
She finished the call. “Faulkner-Brown’s agents
tried to get to Gerrard this morning. They were heading for the beach when
their dinghy suddenly deflated; they had to swim back to the cat.” She started
laughing, but Woods was frowning.
“Who told you that?”
“Sarah; she agreed to keep me up to date. She’s got
my unregistered number. She also said Gerrard’s been informed that Faulkner-Brown’s
on very thin ice. Apparently, there’s talk he’ll be made a scapegoat.”
Woods was still frowning. “Who told him that? You
couldn’t know that level of detail unless someone on the inside informed you,
and I can’t imagine Gerrard having an informant inside the SIS. Is he back in
touch with Williams? Bloody hell…” The penny dropped. “Williams must have an
informant, that’s why he’s one step ahead.”
Barnes nodded. “Maybe he and Gerrard are closer to
what’s going on than us.”
Plant knocked on the hotel room
door and heard Faulkner-Brown’s weary voice utter, “Come in.”
He entered and was shocked by what he saw. “What’s
happened to you?” he said, scowling. Faulkner-Brown was unshaven and unwashed,
his clothes were scruffy and he was looking haggard and grey.
“The knives are out. I’m struggling to get anyone to
speak to me, let alone return my calls. The Home Secretary has flatly refused
to get involved, saying via an aide she has every confidence in the Chief
Constable and all the investigating officers. Guilford-Johnston has disowned
us, and, to cap it all, HQ has made veiled threats that heads will roll if the
situation is not brought back under control by the end of tomorrow. I can’t
reach Dudley and the team I had watching Barnes has been recalled to other
duties. Basically, unless we get Williams quickly, we’re fucked.”
Plant was astounded. “How has it got so bad? We’re
the ones usually pulling the strings, not dancing on the end of them. Have we
got any idea where Williams might be?”
Faulkner-Brown shook his head. “Nope.”
“Who was he close to when he was working for us?”
“They’ve all been checked out; I thought of that
months ago.”
“How did he discover it was Guilford-Johnston who
authorised the mission? Surely there’s a clue there. Who was party to that
information?”
Faulkner-Brown pondered. “That’s a good point. Officially
only three people were in the loop: Guilford-Johnston, the PM and me. But it’s
who the other two disseminated the information to that’s the problem.”
“The weakest link must be Guilford-Johnston, and I
find it rather strange that he’s now saying he’s more concerned about the
threat from us than from Williams.”
Faulkner-Brown starred at Plant. “Guilford-Johnston,”
he said. “That’s it; he’s the one who’s been in contact with Williams. He must
have convinced him it was me who authorised the killings. That’s why he’s
resigned and everyone’s closing ranks, and that’s why I’m being sacrificed. The
last time I spoke to him he said he’d bring the lot of us down. He wasn’t
joking, was he?”
“You stay here and coordinate things. I’ll go and see
Guilford-Johnston; then we’ll know how contact was made and we can start
looking for Williams. But I’ll need Dudley’s help to create a distraction and
draw the protection officers away. Can you get hold of him and organise for him
to meet me?”
“According to his phone signal he’s in the police
HQ; but he’s rejecting all my calls.”
“Woods must have him locked up. Can you get him out?”
“I’ll try, but my influence appears to have
evaporated.”
“What about the two who brought me here from Hawes?”
“I’ll ring them.”
Faulkner-Brown spent five frustrating minutes on the
phone. “They’ve been recalled to HQ. I’d told them to get back to the farmhouse
and follow Pauline, but I’ve been overruled.”
“Forget it,” Plant said. “I’ll work on my own. I’ll
keep you informed.” He went over to the door. “Get yourself cleaned up and
looking presentable, you may need to make an appearance.”
Sunday 10
th
June.
The Phenom 300 jet landed at the
small airstrip on Gecko Island just after 9.00 a.m. local time. Both Sarah and
Scott were waiting to greet their mother. The jet taxied up to where they were
standing and after a couple of minutes the engines were shut down and the cabin
door opened slowly. Pauline appeared and carefully stepped out, holding onto
the handrail as she made her way down the few small steps onto terra-firma. She
looked across at her son and daughter, who she could sense were holding back. She
beamed. “Come here, you two, and give me a hug.” The pair hurried to their
mother and embraced her. “How’s your father this morning?” she asked.
“Come and see; he’s waiting in the sun room,” Sarah
replied.
Pauline was shown towards the house. The two pilots,
who had secured the aircraft, carried her luggage and followed on behind. “This
is a beautiful place; I can see why he chose it,” she said, knowing it was
small talk, but essential if she was to keep her nerves in check. They were
greeted by the maid who’d brought them warm flannels and fruit juice. Pauline
freshened up and sipped the drink. “That’s nice,” she said.