To Kill Or Be Killed (29 page)

David logged
off and heading for the loft hatch was struck by the thought that
Stanton was heading along the coast. He wondered where he would
land. He gave the gun cabinet a friendly tap as he passed,
remembering that the weapon in there had saved his life and ended
the existence of a poisonous reptile of a man.

Mary was in bed
when he came down. He looked in on Connor and finally folded
himself into bed next to Mary. Her body was hot, lying on her back,
the heavy womb rising and falling with her breathing. David inched
beside her and felt her warmth. He fell asleep with his hand on the
bump, not woken by the tiny night kicks of his unborn child.

Chapter
78

London Henry’s Bar

8 - 30 p.m.

April 18th

Mason had
pulled a neat trick with the taxi. He’d had go down the Edgware
Road, onto Park Lane and into Piccadilly, where he got out and
walked towards the nearest tube stop. He picked out Henry’s Café
Bar, right by Green Park Tube Station. He took a place at the long
wooden bar between the two large cream coloured pillars and waited
for the bar man. He ordered a ‘Screwdriver’, took his time over it
and watched the door. When the first drink was down he popped to
the toilet. In the cubicle he looked at the Sig 220 he had tucked
in the back of his trousers. It wasn’t the weapon issued to secret
service that much he knew. It was a neat enough hand gun. He
wondered whether to dump it or keep it. Instinct told him to hang
on to the weapon, someone was on his trail and he knew he’d better
be ready for them.

The DIC machine
had tracked down the taxi. It took them half an hour to get the
taxi firm to confirm by radio. Jaz was at the hospital with Shadz,
but the rest of the teams were pulled out of the Baker Street area
and pushed on to Piccadilly. They took the street from both ends
and swept down, bar and café, open building at a time. The CCTV for
the street was being keenly watched and the previous hour’s footage
being visually combed as the teams on the ground swept on.

Mason ordered a
second ‘Screwdriver’ and thought about the tube and the CCTV
cameras. A man sat down at the bar next to him, taking off a trilby
hat, ruby silk scarf and green trench coat first. He had mid length
floppy grey hair, a pinstripe suit and waistcoat. He looked through
half moon glasses at Mason and ordered a bottle of champagne,
loudly proclaiming the imminent arrival of his crowd of friends and
his need for the lavatory. The man walked away, the barman had his
back turned and Mason saw his chance. He took the hat, scarf and
coat, resting on the stool, got up and walked out. He placed the
hat on his head, swung the coat on and slipped the scarf dashingly
around his neck. He passed a crowd at the door, young lawyers by
the look of them, two or three glanced at him, recognising first
the hat and coat, then looking away when his face didn’t fit.

It was a short
distance to Green Park tube station. He pulled the hat brim down
and descended. He took the Victoria line to Euston then switched to
the Northern Line to Camden Town.

The Underworld
night club was opposite the tube station. He popped across the road
and walked straight in through the bright blue doorway and paid his
dues in the stolen cash.

It was early,
but a crowd was gathering. He’d dropped his chasers for sure. He
noted that band called the Falconers was live that night and was
amused by the early smattering of Goth styled revellers. There was
black leather, fish nets, dark hair and heavy eye make up. It was
going to be interesting seeing how Aliesha dressed, unless of
course she’d been winding him up. He couldn’t see himself scoring
at this gig unless she did turn up. He ordered a beer and sat in
the bar. Loud heavy metal came from further into the building.

He was on his
third beer when a perfumed arm curled around his neck and Aliesha’s
voice alcohol slurred his false name.

“Hi Marc. You
took the hint.”

Mason turned on
his stool and was delighted at the sight. She wore a lace up black
Basque, layers of black net skirt and leather boots. Her hair was
spiked and her eye make up was heavy. The crowd with her were
disappointed.

A tall twenty
something lad, thin and dressed head to foot in black and clearly
jealous spoke first.

“Invite your
uncle ‘Leash’?”

He withered
under Mason’s stare. A plump girl not quite carrying off the wan
look and for all the world looking like a satanic meringue picked
up the hat.

“Very
dandy!”

Aliesha put her
head to one side.

“Why the
hat?”

“Stolen
disguise…” Mason shrugged.

“Don’t say
you’re a secret agent?” They all laughed.

“You didn’t
fall for that line ‘Leash’?” The thin lad said.

Mason was
rescued by the sound of Falconer’s ‘Man Of The Hour’ pumping from
the stage room. The gang rushed off and Aliesha grabbed his hand
and pulled him.

“Come on the
music’s great.”

“I don’t
dance.”

“Neither do I,
but it’s dark in there and music turns me on.”

“Well why
didn’t you say?” He dropped off the stool and followed her in.

The wall of
noise hit them and ‘Leash’ dragged him into a dark corner. She was
a little drunk, but knew what she was doing. Her hands ran down his
back and stopped. Her kiss broke off and her eyes wide and sober
stared into his. The music pounded on. He gripped her around the
waist and spun her to the wall, bent in and shouted in her ear.

“Yes it’s a
gun. I’m a bad man ‘Leash’. Still want to play?”

The answering
smile and tongue into the mouth kiss told him all he needed to
know. The dark side, girl’s loved a bad boy, thought they could
tame them and she had sensed his danger and flew to it moth like.
It only remained to be seen how ‘burnt’ she’d be by the end of the
night. If she’d passed off the gun that quickly she was already
‘blind’.

At DIC centre
in Euston Diane Peters, sitting in Jack Fulton’s office, sipped a
late night coffee, which she needed, but knew she shouldn’t be
drinking. Mason had dropped off the map again. She checked traffic,
multi-screen on his computer and banner information feed showing
nothing as the teams converged near the Green Park tube
station.

The phone rang
and she set it to speaker phone.

“Diane, get the
teams looking for a hat and trench coat on the tubes from Green
Park in the last hour.”

“Will do.”

After two
songs, music he couldn’t stand, to escape the noise and give
‘Leash’ a chance to breathe Mason took her to the bar for a drink
and saw a look of quizzical comprehension and recognition pass over
the barman’s face when Mason ordered their drinks. Behind him on
the side, near the raised bar access Mason saw the red top of The
Sun newspaper. It was a quick click in his mind to the conclusion
he was about to be grassed up.

“We have to go
now.” Mason said with sudden harshness.

“What? The
night is young, I want a drink.”

“Then I have to
go now, you stay.” He was abrupt and business like.

Aliesha caught
the tone in his voice.

“Okay. Back to
my place, a movie and a pizza?”

“Fine which
way?”

“It’s on
Fortress Road at the top of Kentish Town Road, maybe two miles
away.”

“Meet me out
front I’ll rustle up some transport.”

Mason scanned
the bar quickly and spotted a motorbike helmet. Amongst all the
black clothing and the leather there had to be a biker and sure
enough there was. At a crowded table a worn black leather jacket
was draped over a chair, underneath which was a gaudy coloured
helmet. Sitting on the chair was the muscled body of a black haired
boy in a ripped T-shirt. Behind him on a ledge, next to a door, was
the full pint glass of a thick bodied man talking to a lean and
rather sexy looking girl with black bunches, mini skirt and knee
length striped socks. Mason walked around the table, pushed the
swing door open with his right hand and with his left swept the
pint onto the biker’s neck and carried on through the door. He did
a U turn in the corridor beyond and walked back to an angry scene,
both men facing each other, friends shouting. Security was on the
way over. Mason walked past the chair, all their backs to him,
pulled the jacket off the chair as he passed and on his way to the
door. He slipped out the keys and dumped the jacket on the floor.
Behind him a full blooded furious fight broke out in the bar.

At the tower
Jack Fulton’s phone rang and the speaker phone declared to Diane
Peters that a bar man at the Underworld had spotted Mason. The
banner stream declared the club security had called police to the
same location. She set the teams on their way. Traffic slowed
them.

Outside the bar
Mason scanned the surrounding roads and pavement for a parked bike.
Across the road by the tube station was a blue and white Suzuki
GSX-R600, checking it was the right make on the key fob, he grabbed
‘Leash’s hand and dragged her across the busy road.

Sirens sounded
in the distance, people were being thrown out of the club behind
them. In the street light he found the lock key, unlocked the
chain, straddled the bike and put the key in.

He twisted,
revved and put his foot on the clutch.

“Get on.”

“We’ve no
helmets!”

“Let’s live
dangerously. Get on ‘Leash’.”

She
ungraciously swung a leg over the bike, grabbed his midriff with
both arms and felt the acceleration of the bike nearly pull her off
the back. She leant forward as the bike blurted like a blue comma
across the pavement and slammed its way up the Kentish Town Road.
‘Leash’ whooped as the fast moving air streamed around her, the
leather seat between her thighs coldly pressing against her sheer
lace thong. She felt the lump of the hand gun in the back of his
trousers pressing against her abdomen and thrilled to the itch it
gave her lower down.

Behind them at
the club the police arrived in numbers to a full scale riot at the
Underworld. Police Vans and thirty policemen struggled with crowds
coming out. Bloodied security, glass cut men and crying girls
filled the road, stopping traffic. The vans were filling as police
wrestled fighters, two or three cops to a struggler, pinning them
down and cuffing them.

The DIC cars
were waved through a make shift cordon made of police bikes, as was
an ambulance. When the teams got out it was hard to find anyone to
talk to. They scoured the crowds. Tony Deany made his way against
the flow into the bar. His feet crunched on glass and heavy looking
policemen and women stood around waving batons, some taking notes.
He waved his badge as a police woman tried to stop him. Ellie
followed in his wake to the bar.

“Which barman
recognised the face from today’s Sun?”

“It was me.” An
Australian, lean and tanned moved forward.

“Was he with
anyone?”

“Some Asian
Goth girl, looked nice too.”

“Did you see
them leave?”

“I think she
left before him, maybe he lucked out. He went up that way and then
the fight broke out.”

“Was he
fighting?”

“It’s hard to
tell, it all got a bit mad after a while. Then the cops showed up
and I lost sight of him.”

Deany looked
down at the bar stool and beneath it the green trench coat,
crumpled hat and a beer soaked red scarf. He picked it up.

“He was here
alright, the stolen ‘disguise’ from Henry’s.”

“Maybe he
started the fight to cover his escape?” Ellie looked around.

“How did he
know we were coming?”

“He’s smart.
The barman kept looking, he got nervous. Maybe the girl recognised
him and walked off threatening to call the police.”

“If he followed
her out god help her, is all I can say.”

As they
returned to the outside where things had calmed down the police
were sending the crowds into the club. Police organised the club
goers into groups and began sitting them down. A table was being
set up by the door to the outside. Traffic on the road was moving
again.

Liam Kershaw, a
time served DIC recruit in his early thirties broke away from a
group of police and approached Deany and Ellie.

“Nothing to go
on, he’s not in the vans and no sightings. It’s going to take hours
to interview our way through this lot. Some have left, but we’ve
had most sent back in.”

“Interview all
of them?”

“Diane’s orders
see if he was here to meet anyone.”

“That’s going
to take until morning.”

“I know so
let’s get started.”

Mason dropped
‘Leash’ at her house and watched her go in. He rode the bike to a
back road and parked in a side alley. He walked back to her house
and rang the bell. She answered the door with a beer in her
hand.

“Welcome.
Follow me.” He stepped over the threshold watching her wiggling
behind go up the stairs. Duly he followed.

It was a three
bed semi detached house and ‘Leash’ had a large room on the second
floor. She didn’t turn the light on when they went in. She turned
to face him and they stripped each other, unlacing, unzipping and
shedding clothes.

Mason’s lust
enveloped her and consumed her for over an hour and she drank in
his passion and desire. The sex was good and when they finally sank
away from each other both were satisfied.

“You want
something to eat?” She asked.

“Yeah and a
drink.”

They went to
the kitchen, she in a short black Kimono style dressing gown and he
with a towel around his waist. She got him a beer from the fridge
and began making him sandwich.

“Why are the
police after you?”

“I’m an
assassin.”

“Isn’t that
just a posh word for killer?”