To Kill Or Be Killed (5 page)

Spencer had
killed innocent people to keep cover and killed for money, but this
was a little different and Marco felt it to be so. He felt he’d
crossed a line. In his work it was often kill or be killed, but the
only danger from the man was second hand smoke fumes. The driver
wouldn’t have the kind of money on him that Spencer got for
contracts, but he needed the money to move on. He steeled himself
and thought of the million waiting. Enough to retire on he knew
well enough.

The shame for
the driver was that a simple mugging was out of the question as
Marco couldn’t leave a witness to identify him.

With brutal
efficiency Spencer bundled the body into the boot of the taxi,
having taken the jack out and lifted nearly a hundred and fifty
pounds in notes and change from the man’s pockets. Spencer also
took all that could identify the man quickly.

He knew the man
had radioed in their trip from the airport to the coast. He sat in
the driver’s seat practised a rough version of the driver’s voice.
Then as quickly as possible called in

“Two - zero d.o
Highland”

A voice
crackled back.

“Okay Tommy,
now away home to your bed.”

A quick “Aye”
and the job was finished.

Spencer once
again stood in the slashing, drizzling rain. He put his briefcase
and long black coat down by the road. He turned the car to face the
sea. There was no sea wall, just the pavement and beyond that a
pebbly slope down to the choppy waters.

Spencer got out
leaving the engine running; he jammed the accelerator down with the
jack, popped it into gear, stepped back and watched the car high
rev off the road, in first gear, into the Moray Firth. At this
point on the coast the shelf was shallow enough for the car to roll
a good distance under water and be hidden for some time.

Spencer dusted
himself off, put on his now much damper cashmere coat, plucked his
briefcase from a puddle and drizzle spattered headed back into
Inverness. He decided to walk back, there’d be no witnesses to his
return from that area and now he had transit money. He decided
against the plane as he’d be linked to the driver at the airport.
No he’d get the night train down to London. Even though he was wet
and cold he thought with joy of a sleeper berth, a restaurant car
and a hot meal. It was getting on for ten in the morning and he
knew he had to find a quiet place to spend the day before buying
his train ticket.

Chapter
16

Euston Tower London

9- 20 a.m.

April 17th

With the tour
of Euston Tower over David and Jack Fulton went to the refectory
for coffee. As the work involved monitoring, staff in the building
took breaks in shifts. There were quite a few people in what was a
large and friendly room. There was none of the uncomfortable
plastic and chrome furniture like most office canteens. The well
decorated, light and airy refectory was littered with club chairs
set around solid well made tables. The DIC refectory was self
service, funded by subs from wages. The building’s workers were
happy to ‘divvy’ in and DIC couldn’t have a catering firm do the
work on the grounds of secrecy. Cleaning was undertaken by a team
of ex DIC watchers living in the London area that were mostly
retired or looking for less demanding work with DIC. No-one working
for a firm of regular caterers or cleaners would allow themselves
to be so thoroughly investigated and questioned in the way that DIC
would need to for the sake of security.

Sandwiches and
take away were delivered to the reception frequently throughout the
day and were thoroughly checked by security before being allowed
in. Buyers had to pop down and collect their orders.

Jack and David
made themselves some coffee.

“Hello Jack.”
David and Jack turned to be faced with a rather thin woman, in her
late sixties, with piercing sharp little hazel eyes.

“Maisie my
sweet!” Jack embraced her and visibly glowed. “You paying us a
visit or signed up for a two week duty rota.”

“I wish it was
the latter. Alas I’m too old.”

“I’m sorry.
Maisie Dewhurst this is David McKie, our latest recruit.”

David held her
small hand in his and smiled shyly.

“A handsome one
too Jack now you make me wish I was doing the duty rota this
week.”

“Maisie’s
father was on the original DIC team for Churchill, David. Maisie
was active from the nineteen sixties until nineteen eighty-six and
now runs one of our Midlands stations. I tell you David I wish she
was on the active duty rota; you couldn’t get a better tutor.
Maisie’s probably forgotten more about this work than I know now.
Anyway I’m forgetting my manners, let’s get a table.”

Jack led them
to a table with four club chairs. David brought their drinks on a
tray.

“You getting
bored at home Maze?”

“No. I do my
historical research and read my history books.” She answered
smiling.

David smiled
too. “Now there’s a coincidence. I did my degree in history.”

“Where did you
do your degree?” In spite of her age her eyes were sharp with
intelligence and curiosity.

“Strathclyde
University.” David replied.

“I did mine in
London.”

“What led you
into History?” David asked.

“It was growing
up in London during and after the blitz, all those open houses.
Sometimes the whole inside of a house was visible, like a doll’s
house. I’d stand and look at the opened up life, as it were, and
wonder who the people who had lived there were, what they were like
and where they had come from. It continued in school. I still keep
up to date and you David what led you to History?”

“It was my
father really. He was in the army. He told me about the history of
his regiment, the Black Watch and I wanted to know about them, not
the grand battles. Like you, it was the lives of the people in the
regiment that fascinated me.”

“You see. That
same curiosity and desire to know about people also led you to DIC.
David I’ll leave you with Maisie. Give it ten minutes and go up to
your office on the fourteenth floor. I’ll introduce you to your
partner on this week’s fortnight’s active rota, Jack Beaumont.
”

“Are you okay
Jack you seem excited.” Maisie asked suddenly.

David didn’t
know him well, but Jack Fulton seemed quite calm to him.

“You’re amazing
Maze. Yes. We had a message in from Michael Dewey in the Highlands.
It seems a submarine surfaced and dropped off four men. We’ve got
some pictures through, if a bit fuzzy, one of them is a sketch.
We’ve got DIC Scotland watching CCTV at stations, marinas and all
transport centres. It could be nothing, but my nose tells me
otherwise.”

“Have you
checked submarine movements?”

“We’re just
waiting for the decryption department to get into secret service,
Special Forces and MOD systems. They never know that we get in and
it’s a trick to get in and out without being noticed. Hudson in
decryption thinks it’ll be another two hours before we’re in.”

With that Jack
limped away.

Maisie sipped
at her tea. There was a pause.

“You want to
know what it’s going to be like?”

David smiled.
“Yes.”

“It’s
fascinating for a certain type of person. You have to be a people
watcher. You have to be rather sedentary too. Action seekers will
find it rather boring, mundane. I love it. I see so much. I can
pick a piece of information here, one there and another and a story
unfolds. I deduce, weigh the evidence and before I know it I’ve a
corrupt policeman on the hook or a dodgy land deal uncovered. It’s
painstaking work.”

“I like the
idea of watching. I was on customs before this. I didn’t want to be
a manager. I wanted to be on the front line looking at people,
reading them. I’m sure I’ll like it.”

“You seem a
little poignant?”

Again David
smiled. “Yes I’m missing my son and my wife is pregnant with our
second. Being here for two weeks is going to be hard.”

Maisie leaned
forward, patting his hand in a motherly way. “It will pass soon,
then every day at home for three months. Think of that.”

David smiled
once again.

“You have a
good broad and friendly smile David.” She sipped at the last of her
tea, draining her cup. “Anyway the two weeks will pass soon and
quite uneventfully.”

“I rather hope
so. I mean the hand gun and the unarmed combat training is fun and
exciting, but I’m not sure I’m the all action hero.”

“It’s so rare
for anything to happen. There are big events from time to time.
I’ve been involved in one or two myself.”

David raised an
eyebrow, Maisie smiled.

“I’ll tell you
one day, though obviously having signed the act it’ll be secret.”
She winked.

“Ay.” A pause.
“Do you have children?” David asked.

“Yes I have a
daughter. She lives in Birmingham. That’s why I live in the
Midlands. I moved to be near her. Mind you part of my watch is the
chemical works around that part of the country.”

“Chemical
works. That’s quite a responsibility. Well I would have thought so
given the demographics of the Midlands.”

“Yes. Mind you
it’s not only me watching that area; there are two of us there,
given the spread of the works. It’s on a DIC border line, which is
the M6. Where do you live?”

“Dover.”

“Oh a very
historic town and quite a vital watch what with the port and
Folkestone nearby. I take it you’ve done the war time tunnels?”

“Many times, I
had hoped to see Churchill’s ghost, but no luck. Your father knew
Churchill I take it, being in the original DIC.”

“Yes my father
was the first head of DIC, hand picked for the job. Churchill
didn’t trust the Secret Service, with their aristocratic roots and
stock. Later on Burgess and McLean showed him to have been right
about that, with hindsight. Dad was head of Inland Revenue, a
customs man like you. He had adventures too, especially early
on.”

David, on an
impulse looked at his watch.

“Dear god, I’m
seriously late! I’d better go. I lost track there.” He stood and
leaned over. “You had me quite entranced.”

“I’m flattered.
If your duty travels bring you to the Birmingham have your partner
and self stop over, so much friendlier than a hotel.”

“Won’t your
husband mind?”

“Well spotted
on the ring, too easy, but I’m a widow.”

“I’m
sorry.”

“Not your
fault. In fact it’s the IRA who has to be sorry. He was army bomb
disposal.”

“I see. My
father was a peacekeeper in Northern Ireland with his regiment. Can
I e-mail you to chat; it’s nice to have a kindred spirit in
work.”

“Of course, I’d
like that. We all use the network to keep in touch. They don’t
discourage the use of internal encrypted e-mails for friendship, as
long as you’re not profligate. We’re one big family here. That’s
why I visit.”

“I’ll be in
touch.”

With that David
dashed away. Maisie cast a glance around and caught another known
and friendly eye. She wandered over and shared a light, warm
embrace with a severe looking woman of about forty. They fell to
talking animatedly.

The morning
wore on in the Euston building, information streaming in at
thousands of gigabytes a second and every last byte being scanned,
stored and sifted.

When David got
to the Duty Team Office Jack Fulton and a muscular looking Afro-
Caribbean man with grey hair, rimless spectacles and a grey
moustache were engrossed by the images on a large LCD computer
screen.

“Are you
looking for the four illegal entrants from Scotland?”

“David! Jack
Beaumont, David McKie.”

“Wow a big man
and a Scot too.”

David shook
hands. Beaumont had serious heavy lidded eyes. Looking at his
physique David could tell that he kept fit. If it hadn’t been for
the grey hair no-one one would have thought he was just forty,
which he was.

“Jack was a
security expert for private firms, I’m sure he’ll tell you all
about that later.”

On the screen
in front of Beaumont a section of CCTV was running whilst at the
top of the screen there were Dewey’s four images; a sketch of
Charlie Cobb, two fuzzy satellite images of Mason and Spencer,
taken with high intensity satellite imaging, and finally the Nikon
close up of Wheeler. There was also an image of Spencer from the
airport

“These four
were picked up by Michael Dewey at Port An-eorna, just on the
Atlantic coast. Some blip appeared on the radar, just appeared, had
to be a sub. This was just before dawn this morning. Now Michael
saw one face by match flare and sketched it.” Jack Fulton pointed
to the sketch. “He didn’t show up on satellite even though Dewey
guessed one would head for a boat and scanned the harbour at
Plockton. The harbour man, according to Dewey, said an American was
taking a boat out, pre-arranged.”

“Well he’d be
heading down the west coast in that. “ Beaumont interjected.

“We’ve got
harbour and Marina bookings being checked down the west coast.”

“He might not
put in. Anchor and swim in.”

Fulton
nodded.

“That’s true
enough. Now this one,” he pointed to Mason, “he had to have his
ticket pre-arranged as Duirnish is a request stop and it was an
early train. This one,” he pointed to Spencer, “was picked up by
chopper. “ He waved a hand at Beaumont about to interject. “CCTV
for Inverness, Perth and Aberdeen are being monitored and past
hours checked so we should get something soon. That chopper had to
be arranged too. The last one,” he pointed to Wheeler, “his
motorbike was sitting waiting. We’ve put the license plate and
picture out to police. There’s an approach with caution note
attached.”