To Kill Or Be Killed (34 page)

It was early,
but there were a few cars on Brook Street and being one way they
were all heading towards the chase. Cobb was running down the
middle of the road, dodging to the sides of traffic, sparse as it
was, coming towards him. In his mind’s eye he looked at a map and
knew that Hyde Park was at the bottom and Hyde Park Corner tube was
on the other side of Park Lane, to the left.

There was a
sharp bang and a round buzzed past him, whirring like an insect. He
stopped a taxi, pointing the MP5 at the windscreen, ready to take a
hostage, but Ellie saw it coming and had stopped, shouting to three
pedestrians coming her way to hit the floor, which seeing her
pistol they did. She stood in duellist stance and as Cobb made for
the taxi door, without shouting a warning she sent off a round
which sliced through his left ear and ricocheted off the taxi coach
work. Cobb dropped turned, stung, but not stunned and set the
Heckler Koch to automatic and loosed of a burst in the direction of
the shot. Ellie made it to the shelter of a BMW, parked on her side
of the road, which was then peppered with glinting, hot fizzing
holes. The taxi accelerated and Cobb was briefly exposed for Tony,
on the other side of the road, sheltering behind a parked car, to
take a shot. The round missed Cobb by a millimetre and shattered
the window on a parked Mini Cooper.

The MP5 in one
hand, Cobb emptied the magazine in Tony’s direction and took off
running. With cars swerving to avoid him Cobb kept running, knowing
that if he stopped a car he’d risk being shot. He increased his
pace heading for the park, trees, bushes, cover and his only chance
of escape.

His MP5 clip
was empty and he had one magazine left in his pocket. He was
running and close to being out of time.

When he got to
Park Lane Cobb ran across not looking and was lucky in that cars
were too far away to hit him. He was across into Hyde Park and
disappointed to find himself running across open ground along a
long diagonal path, one of many criss-crossing that area. He saw
that he was heading for the corner of the serpentine and Hyde Park
Corner.

With a flat
path beneath him and a steady pace, he unclipped the spent magazine
and loaded the last one in. As it was open ground he knew that if
he stopped rolled and turned he could open up on his pursuers.

Not daring to
fully look behind in case he tripped he slowed, dived onto the
grass, did a rolling turn and faced back up the path. There was
no-one there. Cobb jumped up and looked around full circle. A
jogger and a dog walker caught his eye briefly, but otherwise his
pursuers were gone.

Watching Cobb
crossing Park Lane Tony stopped Ellie following, got out his phone
and breathlessly called in. DIC centre called for police helicopter
surveillance and the nearest was a minute away. The instructions to
the helicopter were to observe from as high up as possible.

“What now, you
just going to let them take over?” Ellie was panting and angry.

“No, he won’t
get away, we can shadow him from the line of trees along Park Lane,
anyway, you’d have got shot on open ground and he’ll be heading for
Hyde Park Corner tube stop I’ll bet.”

Ellie smiled.
“Clever man, come on let’s go.

They sprinted
for all they were worth, looking right as they ran, catching
glimpses of Cobb in silhouette the shadowy gun giving him away.
Cobb took the first diagonal to Speaker’s Corner and as he did so
began thinking of how to get on the tube with a sub machine gun. He
knew he’d have to wrap it in his coat and carry it. As he got to
the exit he slowed and took off his coat wrapping the weapon. The
helicopter was just arriving and couldn’t see him. Armed response
teams were at every exit of the park and teams were entering, all
looking for an armed man.

Tony and Ellie
had got to the Hyde Park Corner exit and stood either side of it.
An armed response team screeched to halt as Cobb emerged. As the
policemen got out of the car, Cobb desperately unwrapped the MP5
from his coat bundle, but Ellie and Tony fired.

The first shot
from Ellie hit Cobb in the heart, then Tony’s shot hit him in the
same place and then their next two each grouped around the centre
of his chest. Cobb pitched forward dropping the coat and Tony and
Ellie moved in weapons to the fore.

Cobb was
spitting blood and rasping, eyes wild as he drowned in his own
blood, which filled his punctured lungs. Blood leaked from his
wounds staining the dusty ground. Tony and Ellie knelt down next to
him holstering their weapons. Behind them armed police alerted to
their presence joined the death scene.

Tony looked
into the fear wide eyes. “You’re going to die now Cobb and then
you’re going to fry in hell for the people you killed you murdering
son of a bitch.”

“We’d better
call an ambulance!” An armed office had squatted down by Tony and
added, “That’s a callous thing to say to a dying man mate.”

“You know the
guy who shot those cops at Gatwick, murdered those guys in
Liverpool?”

“This him?”

“Yeah and
that’s a police MP5 over there right?” Tony asked. “You call an
ambulance when this bastard stops breathing right?”

The officer
peered in at Cobb and the man’s smiling face was the last thing
Cobb saw and Tony’s ‘So long Cobb’ was the last thing he heard.

Ellie and Tony
stood up. “Three down two to go, wanna get a beer Ellie.”

Ellie shook her
head.

“Anger’s like
passion, you get all lusty with it and when you’re done you feel
tired and worn out. I wanted to kill him, but now we have I feel
sick.”

“First time
you’ve killed someone?”

“You mean that
isn’t the first time you have?”

“No. I was a
New York cop.”

“I thought you
were a bit unfeeling. Has killing and seeing the dead dulled your
senses?”

“Yeah I guess
it has.” Tony said the lust of the chase leaving him as he
spoke.

“Wally said
once that he’d killed and didn’t carry a gun because he didn’t want
to do it again in case it rotted his soul.”

“You think my
soul’s rotted?” Tony asked incredulous.

“No Tony,
you’re still good, but I think your halo’s rusty and your wings are
tattered. Better watch it or you’ll go the same way.” She pointed
at Cobb. “He didn’t start life as a monster, military service and
too much killing made him that. Just watch you don’t go the same
way.”

“I think I’ll
have a Bourbon with that beer.” Tony said frowning.

“I think I’ll
join you now, but mine’s a G and T.”

“Let’s find a
bar.”

“It’s eight in
the morning I think a supermarket would be the best bet for a stiff
drink.”

“Drinking out
of a brown bag in a car?” Tony exclaimed.

“Yeah, bad
idea.”

“Let’s get back
to the car and go back to work.”

“You don’t want
that drink then?”

“Maybe later
yeah?” Tony smiled and raised his eye brows.

“You’re on
mate!” Ellie grabbed his arm and led him away, he didn’t protest at
the contact.

The ambulance
and news arrived. Police cordoned the area and to get out of the
cordon Ellie and Tony flashed their DIC badges with diplomatic
immunity. They’d have to explain the killing and account for the
rounds, but for that moment they walked away without a question
being asked.

CHAPTER
87

Dover

8 - 45 a.m.

April 19th

David was in
the loft, checking e-mails and DIC ‘traffic’ when Mary called
him.

“David Conor
wants to go to MacDonald’s for Breakfast!”

“He’s had
breakfast. I thought we were going later?”

“He wants to go
now and anyway I said Mona was picking us up at ten.”

“Okay
MacDonald’s breakfast it is. Get him ready I’m on my way down.”

He heard
Conor’s sweet voice shout ‘Yay’ and Mary telling him to get dressed
in his outside clothes.

The DIC
‘traffic’ was mostly about traces on Mason and the search for
‘Priory’ in London. There was good news about Beaumont. He was
stable and doing well. David felt better. He read the newly posted
report on Cobb’s death and felt glad that he’d been put out of
harms way. He left the computer running and climbed down the
ladder, closing the hatch.

Conor was in
the hall, wrapped in puffy coat, blue wellington boots, hood up
over woolly hat and strapped into a buggy.

“We ready for
an adventure wee man?”

“Yeah. Go and
see the boats, get old MacDonald’s.”

David put on a
warm coat and threw a scarf around his neck. Mary opened the door.
The rain had petered out during the night and the April day was
cool and damp, with a touch of watery sunshine. David wheeled the
buggy down the path and smiled back at his wife.

“Be good and
back by ten as I’ve to take him with me, okay?”

“We’ll be
good!”

David walked
the buggy down Markland Road, turned left then right, passed the
pub and Mr Patel’s, the newsagents. He sped down Elm’s Vale road
and slipped onto the Folkestone Road. His fast walking pace made
Conor whoop with the speed and laugh when David splashed the buggy
through puddles. Within minutes they’d passed the entrance to
Customs, zoomed past the Station steps to Dover Priory and past
Dover College. David wheeled his son into the town centre and they
arrived giggling and breathless at the MacDonald’s.

David bought
them the breakfast, to take away, with coffee for himself and milk
for Conor. That done they went up the pedestrian shopping centre,
down into the underpass, David letting the buggy go and running
beside it down the ramp, Conor squealing with fear and delight. A
short push up and into the open concourse of the harbour front, to
the right of the ferry terminal and the left of the Marina and they
pulled by benches, near the swimmer statues, the harbour wall in
front of them. They settled on a bench, Conor’s little legs
dangling and David got the food out.

It was a fresh
morning and seagulls hung like mobiles on the buffets of close to
shore breezes. The harbour was calm in its own way, the water
frothed only at the edges by the shore line, but David could see
heavy swells and rabid frothing out by the Dover Harbour wall. The
sky was a mix of speeding white clouds and grim heavy grey ones,
the sun flashing through when space allowed. David drank in his
son’s fresh face, chewing on hash brown potatoes and scrambled
eggs.

“Look a big
white boat!”

“That’s a
liner.” David said looking at the big ship docked to their
right.

“Liner, yeah,
it’s hooj Dada.”

“That it is.
Would you like to go on one day?”

“Yeah, I’d be a
pirate and capture it and steal all their treasure.”

“That’d be bad.
I’m a police man now. I’d have to stop you.”

“You wouldn’t
though, you’d be my helper and I’d make you rich, then mummy
wouldn’t be so sad.”

“Has mummy been
sad?” David was suddenly focussed on his son’s face.

“Yes.” His
son’s face was earnest and concentrated. “She said she wanted you
home. I’m glad you’re home. I asked God to get you home.”

“That’s good.
Thank you.”

They finished
their breakfast. David threw away the left over wrapping and put
Conor back in the buggy. He walked to the right as they always did,
along the front, along Waterloo Crescent, past the Marina, over the
bridge on Union Street , up Snargate Street and left at the
roundabout onto York Street. The traffic was heavy even at that
time in the morning and David had his eye on the lorries and trucks
as he made the crossing.

David was so
busy watching the traffic that he didn’t see Trevor Stanton, who
had just been to the Somerfield on Castle Street and coming back
was entering York Street from Old Mill Lane.

Stanton did see
McKie though. He made a casual glance to his right before he turned
left towards the seafront and was stunned to see McKie, the man
from Perth Station, the man he had seen on Parneuk Street in
Motherwell, pushing a buggy across the pedestrian crossing.

Stanton had got
into Dover marina with ease, earlier in the morning. Moored up he’d
checked the boat’s cupboards and unhappy with the choices, decided
to go shopping.

Standing there
in a large hooded Berghaus coat he’d taken from the boat, his brown
boots, still damp, new thick socks, dark blue trousers, a new black
T shirt, that he’d bought in town he looked carefully at the figure
across the road, now heading away at a fast walking pace. There was
no doubt in his mind. Stanton had fixed the man’s size, shape and
face in his memory and there he was large as life pushing a
buggy.

Stanton knew at
once that McKie lived in Dover. He knew the man must be DIC and if
that was the case McKie would have DIC equipment at his house.
Access to that network would be really useful to Stanton. Stanton
didn’t have a weapon on him, his was back on the boat, but he
decided to follow McKie at a distance. He pulled his woollen hat
down close to his eyes, dumped his shopping and the plastic bag
with the yellow waterproof clothing over a wall on the trail up the
Folkestone Road; McKie’s figure was easy to follow, though his
walking pace kept him well ahead. McKie was absorbed listening to
Conor’s inane chattering and wouldn’t have looked for danger. He
felt safe.

When Stanton
got to the junction of Elm’s Vale Road and Church Road McKie had
disappeared. Stanton knew he’d gone that way though and had a
quarter of an hour walk around the streets before he saw a house
with a big white satellite dish on Markland Road, just up past a
primary school. Stanton did some reconnaissance around the area and
after making his way up to Eaves Road saw through gaps in garden
gates the school field and the backs of the Markland Road
houses.