To Kill Or Be Killed (18 page)

“Wow a
completely new look for you and well chosen too. You ought to grow
your hair.”

“Good idea.”
Cobb said. “Do you think long blonde curls would suit m?.”

“Yeah better
than a pony tail if you don’t mind me saying. A lot of older men do
that to look cool and it doesn’t work.”

Cobb smiled. He
punched the pin number into the receptor praying for the girl’s
sake that the card hadn’t been cancelled.

Luckily for
Cobb the drunk he had robbed in the room next to his back at the
hotel hadn’t cancelled the card. That morning after being woken by
armed police at the hotel the muzzy headed lad had taken a shower,
got dressed and was just finishing breakfast at the hotel as Cobb
used his card. The unlucky hotel guest was regaling his mates with
his possible near death experience and how he would have handled
the armed killer. His friends joked about his car being filled full
of holes and he was horrified to recall his laptop being in the
boot. It was only hours later, when he needed to check out of the
hotel that he remembered, with embarrassment, that he didn’t have
his card. His friends paid for him with the thought that there’s
one born every minute and Cobb had the same thought as the girl
thanked him and bagged the items, giving him the receipt.

“Could I change
into these now? I have a…” Cobb paused for effect “… date and I
wanted to wear them.”

“Yes that’s
fine the changers are over there.”

Cobb walked
casually to the changing room, pulled the curtain across and began
his transformation.

Once in the
Vision Express store Jaz had pulled out her pass and angled her arm
so that the underarm holster and shiny black Sig showed a little.
She ‘tagged’ a shop assistant and held up the sketch of Cobb.

“Have you seen
this man?”

The girl looked
at the pass, noted the gun and stared back at the picture.

“Yes he was in
here about ten minutes ago. He was looking at frames. Is he
dangerous?” The assistant who had put the frames back wandered
over.

“Is this about
the shoplifter?” He asked.

Jaz stared hard
at the boy. “Shoplifter?” She exclaimed.

“Yes.” He
looked at the picture. “I saw that guy trying frames. Anyway he
left them in a mess and when I went back to put them on the rack
there was a frame missing.”

“Thank you.”
Jaz joined Shadz and Tony outside. Tony was holding his cell
phone.

“Local police
are in the CCTV security booth watching for him.”

The phone
rang.

“Yeah?” He
listened, nodded and flipped the phone shut and turned to Jaz and
Shadz. “River Island, don’t pull weapons in the store. Just
wait.”

“He’s got
glasses.” Jaz spoke as they half jogged across the mall.

“Glasses huh?
Disguises. Damn.”

Cobb came out
of River Island unnoticed by CCTV watchers and made his way to the
front exit. In the changing booth his rucksack, packed with the old
clothes sat waiting. Two metres from the front exit he noticed the
armed police. He took out the drunk’s cell phone.

“Is that the
police? Yes I’d like to report a bomb in the Arndale Centre. River
Island changing rooms, you have three minutes.”

Cobb shut the
phone, dropped it in a bin near the door and walked past the armed
police, all of whom were checking for a man in a black coat with a
shaved head.

Too late Shadz,
waiting outside River Island, called the Inspector and suggested a
change of clothes and some glasses and even then they wouldn’t have
thought he’d have long blonde curls.

As Tony and Jaz
pushed their way to the pay desk showing badges, the fire alarm
sounded and Tony’s phone rang.

“Yeah, well
damn it get people out, but we’re staying here.” Tony argued.

The voice on
the other end, the Chief Inspector’s, was so loud it could be heard
from the phone’s tiny speaker. Tony winced.

“We have to get
out. Someone phoned from a cell phone and said there’s a bomb in
this store.” Tony said ruefully.

“Where?” Jaz
asked.

“The changing
rooms of River Island.” Tony said.

“It’s Cobb.
He’s changed and left his bag!” Jaz replied.

“Regardless he
could have explosives. We have to get out.” Tony said with
urgency.

They joined
Shadz outside the shop and began speed walking to the exits.

“He’s a clever
one, very slippery customer!” Shadz said almost gleefully.

“A bold one
too.” Tony said harshly.

“Not so smart
though we know where he’s headed and Manchester wasn’t a scheduled
stop. The hotel suggests the airport and the road routes out would
need a car. With every copper in the city on alert he won’t steal a
car and rentals are traceable so he’ll want the quick way out. He
must have used the internet to find his way round and that means
he’ll have booked a car or a flight or train online, meaning he
used a card.” Jaz spoke quickly and breathlessly as they headed for
the exit.

“Brilliant.”
Shadz exclaimed.

“My money’s on
flight.” Tony said.

“Mine too.” Jaz
added.

“Let’s get to
the airport, sit in their security centre and check all of today’s
bookings.” Shadz grinned. “Plus we call these guys pull some muscle
and find out which card he used.”

“Very clever
Shadz but we don’t need to. Find out the name of the guy who was
robbed at the hotel. Five quid says the dumbo hasn’t cancelled the
card yet.” Jaz said grinning.

As they made
their way to the exit the building was nearly clear and when they
got to the exit doors bomb squad officers rushed past them.

“My God I hope
hasn’t really got explosives! Suppose this place is the target?”
Tony said looking at the crowds exiting the shopping centre.

Chapter
54

London

9 – 30 a.m.

April 18th

Mason’s train
journey had been a pleasant affair. The April rain was holding off
and a mild sunshine was brushing the Hertfordshire landscape with
light spring strokes. His view from the window slipped over the
jigsaw of fields with neat hedge edges and the trees so recently
furnished with leaves, having for the last two days drank in the
rain were greedily absorbing the least rays of light.

Mason’s eyes
wandered over the commuter crowds, a healthy and unhealthy range of
every type, all shot arrow like into London’s heart. At times he
envied such mundane existences, but knew his adventurous soul would
break free of such a treadmill within months of joining it. An
attractive office girl, well made up, pristine, scent of perfume
cutting through the musty dry cleaner smell of surrounding suits,
caught his eye. He glanced three or four times, drinking in the
highlighted honey and chestnut hair, the heavy push of breasts
against the buttoned suit jacket and the neat line curve of her
lower leg beyond the edge of her skirt.

His mind turned
to army days and job or no job he was due some rest and recreation
time. The three word contact information, ‘Priory Arms Vauxhall’,
fixed in his head could wait until tomorrow. Spencer was dead.
Mason hadn’t liked the sneaky ex secret serviceman and had given
him a wide berth on the cramped submarine. Stanton he knew had
escaped, but surely must be trapped in Glasgow, given the tightness
of the net surrounding him and Wheeler, as much as he knew then,
was in the same position. Surely even Cobb, given the high media
profile of his murders must have gone to ground, if not have quite
a numerous task force dedicated to his capture. No even then as he
thought of it he must be the first into London.

His train of
thought led him to the person who had set up this ‘race’ to London.
They had got themselves a team of top assassins, got them onto a
British Navy Submarine and inserted them at the other end of the
country. Mason ran through the facts he knew. They’d been picked up
pretty soon after entry which meant someone had been watching out,
either waiting for them or just out of habit. Security services had
either been alerted or there was a system he was unaware of for
tracking people through CCTV. Certainly it smacked of out and out
government dirty tricks. Whoever wanted this job done knew the
risks. He knew he’d have to watch himself. The buyer wasn’t one to
get themselves exposed by the likes of him and though once in the
‘pipeline’ for the job he knew he’d still be regarded as
dispensable. He tried to lighten his thoughts. He was a man of
action and too much thought dulled the reactions and the
willingness to act.

Another glance
at the girl saw her catch his gaze, she frowned and pulled out her
cell phone. Spencer taken aback a moment by such an adverse
reaction to what he knew to be his reasonable good looks recalled
his mode of disguise. He was going to have to polish up if he was
going to get himself a girl tonight that was for sure and he was
shocked at how unattractive his disguise had made him when his
reflection became apparent through the train entering the tunnel
around Borehamwood. Behind the tinted glasses his eyes creased at
the edges and below them a tight smile appeared, stretching the
carefully arranged and, if he did say so himself, expertly created
moustache. He hadn’t recognised himself for a moment.

Mason spent the
rest of the journey planning his night out. The card he had still
worked and a hotel, haircut and new clothes could easily be bought
with it. It was cash he needed. He decided that a couple of neat
swift hotel thefts would rack up enough ready cash to have a good
night out.

His planning
passed the time and when the train stopped at West Hampstead he
decided to get out and take the Jubilee line. He picked Baker
Street as a good place to stop. It was for the most part a journey
spent wistfully sizing up and measuring the merits of most of the
young women, broken by one cold sweat moment when looking at a
national tabloid over the shoulder of a well groomed man to his
right he saw his own image along with Cobb’s, Wheeler’s and
Stanton’s. Spencer’s image was in a separate inset describing his
death. Only by catching his reflection dragged over the tunnel
walls was Mason relieved from his sudden panicky thoughts. He
glanced back at the paper and realised that he could not be in any
way thought to be the man in the photo, but the awareness that St
Alban’s CCTV would link him to Glasgow station CCTV which in turn
flag him up as having murdered the police officers gave fresh and
more realistic reasons for him to smarten up and change his look.
He shrugged off the fears knowing that he was close to his goal and
the potentially protective wings of whoever was funding this kill
and he finally stepped up onto Baker Street with the thrill of a
carefree man in a city full of promise on a warm spring day.

He set off for
a walking tour of the area, with the particular aim of choosing a
hotel and noting the location of others in order to gather some
needed cash. He finally opted for The Bickenhall Hotel in
Gloucester Place, it was the kind of small hotel he liked. It was
easy to place each face and easier to be aware of any atmosphere
changes brought about by the arrival of officialdom in the form of
police or security services.

He had a
shower, a brunch on room service and lay down for a nap. He booked
an alarm call for three pm so that he could get a haircut, shop for
clothes and get ready for his night out.

Chapter
55

Perth Airport

9 - 35 a.m.

April 18th

DIC’s powerful
machine and immense influence enabled them to get helicopters
chartered and ready when they needed them, but sometimes even that
was a slow process; the Liverpool team had been in the air quickly
earlier in the day, but David and Beaumont had a wait. The
Helicopter had been chartered from Aberdeen and had landed, but had
to refuel enough for a return flight. By the time David and
Beaumont took off it was near nine forty am. The pilot promised a
short flight, around twenty minutes.

Inside the Bell
407 with their headphones on David and Beaumont sat watching the
landscape speed by below.

“You were a
bodyguard?”

Beaumont gave
him a glance, David’s voice sounding less conversational through
the headphones.

“Yes.”

“How does a man
with a philosophy degree get into that?”

“When I
graduated I couldn’t decide what to do so I talked my way into a
job as a security guard. I thought I’d make the money and needed
the job. I got married in my third year at university and our first
child was born just after I graduated. So I worked at garden
centres and shops for a security firm. I liked it, but London
houses are expensive and Ella’s job and mine didn’t bring in enough
for a bigger house and she was pregnant with our second, my son
Jacob. So I did a course on body guard work. Defensive driving,
unarmed combat and small arms techniques. I switched to body guard
work, my trainer and I got on and he got me the job. It was
guarding rich business men in foreign countries. Turns out I was
away from home a lot. I did that for near enough ten years.”

“Why did you
stop? Were you head hunted?”

“I was head
hunted after I stopped.”

There was a
silence. David looked at him.

“I’m sorry I
didn’t mean to pry.”

“No it’s a good
story, if it is a sad one. I’d been working for a rich business
man, diamond business, South Africa. A good friend, by the name of
Greenwell, Bob Greenwell, and I were driving our client to a dinner
do one night and were attacked by roadside bandits. They had
semi-automatic weapons. Bob told me to stay with vehicle, rolled
out of the car and opened fire. He killed the four men, but they
returned fire as he shot them and Bob was shot dead. I had to go
out and get him, he died in my arms as I carried him back to the
car and then I got the client away safely.