Stray Bullet (16 page)

Harvey looked at the ceiling in disbelief. 

“So when can we expect to meet with him?” interrupted Harvey.

“Well, that also rather depends what the purpose of the meeting is,” said Mr Jones.  “You see, the claim you have made of being within Mr Shaw’s bloodline has come as somewhat of a shock to him, as you may imagine.”

“Him and me both,” responded Harvey trying not to make eye contact with his mother.

“Well, of course, and therefore at this stage in life Mr Shaw is curious as to the reason for this sudden claim. He is a man of wealth and has many enemies that may use news of your revelation for their own ends. So Mr Shaw has offered this meeting largely to forewarn you of the dangers which you may inadvertently be in should you advertise your claim publicly. And, of course, to explore what you might expect to gain etc. etc…” Mr Jones rambled on but chose to place significant emphasis on the word, “Danger”.

Harvey laughed loudly in disbelief.

“Mr Jones,” he said in a raised voice, “that sounds like a veiled threat.”

“My son is a police officer, Mr Jones,” Jessica interrupted cutting Harvey off before he had a chance to fully express his disbelief.  “I am sure any such dangers would be dealt with appropriately.”

The lawyer looked down and smirked at what he clearly thought to be a naive remark. 

“Of course, do you mind me enquiring as to what your expectations of this meeting were?”

Harvey had not really thought this through, his motivation being more idle curiosity as to what the brother he had never had might be like rather than to consider any other consequences moving forward. However, insulted by the insinuation of less than honourable motives, he began to think that maybe he should after all have let sleeping dogs lie and in a matter of fact tone stated,

“I think we have taken up enough of your time, Mr Jones. Please apologise to my brother for this inconvenience.” Without a further word Harvey gestured to his mother and made for the door.

Jessica was unusually speechless and followed Harvey closing the office door behind her. He moved at pace and was already tapping at the button to hail the elevator before Jessica caught up with him. She looked up at her son but chose to say nothing, fearing his nerves were frayed enough. They would ride the elevator back to street level before Harvey led the way in silence to the nearest café.

Meanwhile, back in the offices of
Houghton and Harrow
Michael Jones had wasted no time in making a phone call to his client. 

“That's right, a policeman,” he said concluding the conversation.  The receptionist Verity raised an eyebrow. She had entered quietly and placed a coffee on his desk before leaving the room. There was no answer to his statement. The phone simply went quiet and Mr Jones, realising the call had been terminated by his client, replaced the handset.

Jessica chose to follow her son in silence, letting him find an empty table outside Café Rouge. She knew she had to let his mind stop spinning before she uttered any motherly words of wisdom.
Without a word, she followed his lead and sat down.

“Why on earth would it put us in danger?” he voiced his thought. “Mother, what exactly have you not told me about my brother?” he asked.

“I have told you everything that happened.” Jessica paused for a moment, considering what had triggered this whole episode. “I wish I had never seen that wretched article.”

Harvey was taken aback. “Article? What article?” he enquired.

“It was all so long ago. I had meant to tell you about Christian years ago but the article just brought everything back.” Jessica became visibly anxious. It was a Freudian slip, yet she
had
considered the article to be a minor piece of Harvey’s jigsaw and given its age, she had ignored its relevance. She had naively hoped that at his stage in life, simply enlightening Harvey about her past might have been enough for him, and therefore enough for her to exonerate her conscience.

“Do you still have the magazine?” he pressed without thought for her feelings.

“Yes, yes…at home,”
she replied, fearing that her honest response would lead nowhere other than further anguish and heartache.

“Come on, mother,” Jack said boldly standing to go. “I need to see it now.”
Without any further consideration, he began heading off down the street in the general direction of Jessica’s apartment some twenty minute walk away.

Noticing the somewhat tense conversation taking place at their table, a waiter come over and apologetically spoke.

“Madam, I am so sorry for your wait. Is everything ok?”

Jessica had taken a tissue from her bag and was dabbing away at her eyes while getting to her feet. 

“Yes, thank you. We won't be staying,” she remarked awkwardly and without further ado, headed off in Harvey's direction.

Harvey was struggling to come to terms with the revelation of his brother’s existence already. The lawyers meeting had done nothing but anger him and fuel his curiosity, and now there was an article too.  His mind was bulging with unanswered questions.

If that hadn’t been enough, he was also due to return to close protection duties the following morning during a time which he should have been sharing with his family and children following his return from the US.

Having rudely raced away from the Café Rouge, leaving his mother behind for the second time that morning, Harvey attempted to flush the multiple streams of random negative thoughts from his mind.  He paused in the street, the rational side of him taking a moment to regain control before realising he had left his mother standing again.  He looked back in the direction of the café and was surprised to see he had blindly travelled several hundred meters. He could only just see Jessica in the distance racing to catch up with him.

He stopped and waited. Looking back at her, he felt a deep sense of guilt for putting her through this trauma, regardless of whose fault this initially might have been. Clearly, it hadn’t been an easy decision for her to make after so many years. She had been a good and loving mother throughout, and while these revelations had come as a complete shock to Harvey, nothing could take away his upbringing which, with the undivided attention of his mother, could hardly have been more pleasant.

As she approached, Harvey sighed. His sense of urgency temporarily faltering, he reached out like a lost child and wrapped his arms around his mother.

They shared each other’s warmth for a moment before continuing to walk back to the apartment together. It was not a long walk and soon they found themselves back in the comfort of Jessica’s home.

“It is around here somewhere,” Jessica said, rummaging around magazine racks before eventually recalling its whereabouts. “I had to buy it from the surgery you know. I was quite shocked to see him after so many years, but there was simply no doubting it.” She attempted to make small talk, but Harvey was not in the mood. He wasn’t listening to her words, but was preoccupied with what ‘danger’ Mr Jones might have been referring to.

“Let me see mother,” he said impatiently.

She opened at the first page of the article and handed him the magazine.

He looked down at a familiar face and smirked at the irony. “No, mother, the article about my brother…” His voice tailed off as he looked up at his mother and back down to the picture in front of him.  “Oh, my God!” The words were spoken slowly and quietly as the blood drained from his face.

It was a busy day in Exeter. Few international VIPs had toured on official visits as far from the capital as Devon. Today would be different. A high profile Bishop would visit the Cathedral as special envoy in part of an ongoing relationship building exercise between the Catholic Church and Church of England. Unusually for his level of seniority, the Bishop would require a full close protection squad which would be led on the ground by DC Harvey Walters.

It was much to the delight of the Mayor that her City of Exeter had been chosen for the high profile visit, regardless of the rumours that it was precisely the issues over protection that had led to this low profile choice of location.

Harvey’s role would be to collect the Bishop and his clerical staff from Exeter airport, remain with the Bishop throughout the visit and
, eventually return them all to Exeter airport. From there, they would all board a shuttle flight back to the capital and onwards back home to the Vatican the following day.

Expected to be a fairly routine, albeit rare duty, the personal protection team would return to Middlemoor for tea, cakes and the usual debriefs before being stood down and sent on their way. Harvey would then be able to return home to see out the rest of his vacation undisturbed with his family.

While he considered this job as not much more than a routine babysitting role, unworthy of his removal from a long deserved period of leave, he had nonetheless set about coordinating his team in a professional manner, utilising techniques learned from his detachment to the US where Corporate Protection roles were far more challenging.

In the few days leading up to the visit, local radio stations and press had broken their silence and stirred up curiosity towards the visit amongst the residents. The city, which housed many international students during the summer months, was expected to be crammed with those wishing to get a closer view of a dignitary from the Vatican. Many schools used the visit as an excuse for a day out of their mundane routines and children were taken down to the green in droves to offer gifts of flowers, wave flags and cheer on the Bishop's arrival.

By mid-morning on the day of the visit the Cathedral Green the streets were already teaming with students and onlookers of all ages. There was not a single table free of custom within the café’s that lined the green, as the retired population took up their own strategic, yet more comfortable, viewing posts for the event.

Harvey watched as the small jet touched down on the main runway of Exeter airport. The plane would taxi across to the private hangar where he was waiting in a large British built Bentley limousine that had been driven up from London for the event. Harvey would ride out the journey into the city centre and up to the Cathedral alongside the driver who was also a part of Harvey’s close protection team. The Bishop’s staff would follow on behind in an array of lesser vehicles also carrying a member of Harvey’s team. Once in the heart of Exeter, Harvey would escort the Bishop into the Cathedral grounds where they would be met by the Church of England dignitaries at the entrance to the Cathedral.

There would be a brief, leisurely stroll towards the Cathedral doors during which time the Bishop would be greeted by the crowds and spend several minutes, much to the delight of onlookers, talking in Italian, Spanish, English and French to those foreign students who greeted him. Photographers would get their opportunity to click away at the representatives of the two churches standing together, all bearing smiles, at the entrance of the Cathedral after the greetings had taken place. Or such was the brief to Harvey and from Harvey to his team.

As the Bishop actually approached the steps to the Cathedral, a young girl crouched under the rope that stretched the length of the street to hold onlookers back. Harvey, realising she was no threat, kept a watchful eye, but allowed this minor breach in security to take place. She reached out and spoke to the Bishop in full view of the grateful reporters who swarmed around the scene clicking away furiously as the girl handed him a single red rose. He lifted the rose to smell its scent and, seemingly delighted with this small gift, chose to hold on to it in his left hand while offering her a special blessing for her kind act. Photographers were delighted at this unplanned scene and, sensing a headline picture, jostled for position to get the best shots.

There were flashes from the cameras of journalists and overjoyed onlookers alike. The crowds cheered and applauded as the Bishop made his way up the steps leading to the Cathedral entrance.

One man who wasn’t smiling was Jack Shaw. He had been watching the Bishop’s arrival intensely from an apartment above the Half a Nickel Tea Rooms.

Looking through his telescopic sight he had observed as one man stood by the passenger side of the limousine speaking into his lapel microphone. He held what Jack guessed to be a small earpiece tightly against his ear so that he could hear the voices of his colleagues above the noise of the amassed crowds. He took one final look around before assisting the Bishop from the vehicle.

Jack had been visibly shaken. He looked up and away from his rifle momentarily. He had seen the Bishop being led from the car by a man he had come to know as
Bill Moore
, an underworld thief from Detroit. While he had only met Bill on two occasions, he was convinced this was
definitely
one and the same man. Moreover, this left Jack with an incredible and untimely dilemma. He made a quick sweep of the area through his sights to see if there were any other unplanned surprises he should be aware of, but he could see nothing further out of the ordinary.

His mind digested the information and Jack inadvertently missed the first planned opportunity of taking on the hit for which he was there.
Bill Moore was a mole for the British government?
he thought.  There was only one possible course of action for Jack to take.

Jack looked down the barrel of his rifle through the sight and down to the cross hairs. He focussed in on the Bishop and then on the man standing next to him. He paused, his mind racing through the possible outcomes of a major plan deviation. A man of his expertise
could
take both individuals out within a couple of seconds, though the second shot would be taken through the mayhem that the first shot would cause.

A clean and defining shot to first take out the single close protection officer known to him as Bill Moore should leave him a clear yet brief opportunity to take out his bountied target as the crowd scattered. He paused for thought before looking back down the sight.

He began regulating his breathing as he had done so many times before. 
Inhale slowly, exhale slightly, hold and squeeze the trigger.
  The words of The Phoenix drummed into his mind during an intense period of training raced through his mind.
“Exhale slightly moments before pulling the trigger to allow your body to relax, Jack. This will vastly reduce any chance of judder or shake,”
The Phoenix would say.

The sights lined up, it was time for that one last slow and deep intake of breath. Leaving his main kill for a second shot would be a risky undertaking and there would be no time to pause for breath. He would be relying upon all of his skills and concentration to take it on successfully.

Jack Shaw was about to take a decision that no other would have.  In his mind, he could picture the glory of a successful double hit. His self-confidence was peaking. 
Is this misguided confidence
? he thought. He could not, must not believe nor consider his plan to fail.

His mind computed the outcomes one last time. A single bead of sweat appeared upon his brow. At worst, the Bishop would attempt to run for cover, but he would not outrun a bullet of The Phoenix. At best he would hit the floor on seeing the first man down, making himself a sitting duck. Slowly, Jack began to exhale and with his mind made up, his finger waited on the trigger.

Jack squeezed down and an unlikely event he had not considered was already occurring. His intense concentration was marred by the voice of an intruder shouting indistinctly from behind him. The shot rang out and Jack’s lightning reactions sent his body swerving around to meet the intruder. Looking straight into his eyes and without pausing for thought he shot again, this time from the hip.

“What the fuck?” was all Joe could muster before he hit the ground.

Jack swung back around to the window. Immediately adopting a firing position he looked through the sights to see his first target lying motionless on the ground. People were beginning to swarm around him to witness his fate, but then Jack felt the pit of his stomach tightened as he observed his primary target being shuffled into his limousine. There would be no second shot.

Joe Collier had unwittingly saved the life of Jack’s target to his own detriment. Jack quickly and expertly dismantled his weapon, wiping it down as he did so, before returning it to its case. On his way towards the door he gave an angry kick to the ribs of the deceased man lying on the floor in front of him.

“Asshole!” he muttered under his breath and left the room.

He didn’t like unforeseen events but had become accustomed to dealing with them. They never seemed to faze him, a trait which over the years had lulled him into almost believing he was invincible. But today was different. The target had got away and he had not earned his bounty. Jack’s first shot had been lucky. The intrusion had put him off balance but he had witnessed Bill Moore lying motionless on the ground.

Amidst the chaos that ensued down at the green, Jack was alone in his composure. He would slip away down to the river Exe where he would dispose of his weapon in the river before making his way discreetly from the city centre and on towards Marsh Barton Industrial Estate. He would crew up with workers from a removals company travelling east for a job. The business was one of many Lucio owned and, to the crew, Jack would just be a temp making up numbers. He would discreetly disappear during a rest stop at Chievely Services and make his own way back to his home. Once there, he would lay low for a few days before flying back to his wife by private jet.

The authorities would be taken aback by this event. Yet for all the planning in the world, on that day; they would be unable to stop this lone assassin from walking away, scot free.

Back in Exeter, it seemed that for hours, all that could be heard were the noise of sirens, screams of disbelieving children and clicking of photographers eager to record this fateful day for the city.

Harvey Walters aka Bill Moore remained motionless and not breathing when emergency services arrived on the scene. Attempts at resuscitation continued while he was rushed by ambulance through the streets of Exeter and on to the Accident and Emergency department of the RD & E Hospital.

The Bishop had not flinched during the brief and deadly encounter.  Standing like a bird blinded by the headlights of a car, a statue, seemingly in acceptance of any fate that his good Lord desired. The only thing suggesting he wasn’t stuck in time, was the rose that had been presented to him some moments earlier which, having escaped the grasp of his left hand, appeared to float as though weightless until it eventually reached its resting place on the ground.

Following the shot, he had been quickly manhandled into his vehicle by the driver who sped away from the scene to a secret location. Police escorts in pursuit, while the authorities tried to get a handle on what had just taken place.

The city was locked down by emergency services but this was largely a matter of process. There was no indication of who or what they were looking for. They could only go through the motions in the hope that blind luck would intervene and offer them a useful lead but, blind luck was simply not on the side of the authorities that day.