Author's Note: Apologies to all, for the significant delay in publishing this chapter. I hope to speed up future updates. A small question to all: should Eggsy and Roxy become romantically involved or keep things firmly professional?
The following morning
Glasgow
We had greatly enjoyed our drive up from London to the Scottish, City of Glasgow.
The freedom of the open road and our cars. It had been fun and we managed to get ourselves a little carried away at the time, but now the real work began again.
It had started as a chilly morning.
Roxy and I were fresh from a hearty breakfast at our hotel. We needed to find out where the dead man had originated. Why had he come to Glasgow? Why did he have a potentially dangerous item on him? For whom was this potentially dangerous item intended? We had many questions to answer and possibly very little time in which to answer them.
..._...
We were walking up St Vincent Street, in the centre of the City, enjoying each other's conversation. Something seemed strange, but I could not quite put my finger on it. We were both chatting, about nothing important – just conversation to make us look like anybody else. Despite this, we were constantly alert and aware of our surroundings. It was this alertness, which led me to one conclusion.
We were being followed.
"Roxy, fancy a drink?" I suggested, with a meaningful look.
Roxy gave me a momentary, somewhat quizzical look and I nodded in silent reply.
"Yeah, about time for one," Roxy replied.
The ability to communicate on a non-verbal level was critical to our operations. In this way, we could let each other know important information without the wrong people being made aware.
We dropped down from the street to a small coffee shop, in the basement of a terraced property and ordered two teas.
"You ever been to Glasgow, before?" Roxy asked with genuine interest, as we sat down and waited for our drinks.
"Before meeting Harry, I had never ventured more than a few miles from home!" I replied. "This is all part of my new life. New experiences for me to enjoy. What about you?"
"I have been to Edinburgh, a while ago now, but never Glasgow."
..._...
I periodically glanced out of the coffee shop window. The man in question was loitering and not doing a very good job of looking innocuous. This, at least, confirmed my initial suspicions. Somebody knew we were here in Glasgow and most probably why.
We finished our teas and then casually strolled back up to street level. The man had seen us come out of the coffee shop and was pretending to examine a parking meter. He definitely was not a professional! Then it occurred to me that one old trick, would be to have an obvious observer to attract our attentions, while having another, unknown observer to, covertly, monitor us.
I casually scanned the street, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Roxy seemed to notice as her body language changed and I saw her tense up and casually scan the street around us.
I was cued in by Eggsy and started to scan the surrounding area for anybody else that might be watching us.
It was an old trick, going back years in the spy business. False observers. After a brief minute spent scanning and pretending to rummage in my handbag, I thought I had four potential observers. It could be one, it be none or it could be all of them. There was nothing certain in this game.
We split up.
Again, an age-old method to confound observers and tails. We did not say anything; we just walked past each other, heading in completely, opposite directions. The overt observer now seemed confused, he hesitated and then proved that he was no professional; he looked directly at one of our suspected observers who looked mad at the breaking of tradecraft!
That observer glared back at his obvious subordinate and turned away, hoping in vain that nothing had been seen.
"Tall, dark hair, blue suit with black overcoat, black shoes. Looks pissed!" I whispered quietly.
"I have him!" Eggsy acknowledged from a dozen yards up the street.
I saw Eggsy turn left up the next street, while I turned right up a parallel street. The newly detected observer, knowing his cover was probably blown, crossed St Vincent Street and followed me, about a dozen yards behind. I continued straight on up the pavement, before ducking down an alley that paralleled St Vincent Street.
A few yards up the alley, I ducked into a doorway and waited.
The idiot observer made absolutely no attempt to follow me, or Roxy, but instead headed away.
I rotated the bezel of my watch, so that the single word 'TRACKER' was displayed. I aimed and sent a very small dart towards the man. I knew, without a doubt, that the dart would attach itself to his outer clothing. We would find him later; he should be an easy interrogation.
I then got back to the task in hand and turned left into an alley that paralleled St Vincent Street. I expected to find Roxy coming in the opposite direction. The alley had a slight rise to it, in the middle, so I could not see the other end from where I was. I increased my pace; I knew that Roxy could handle anything, but I wanted to be close – just in case.
I came over the rise and could see the far end of the alley. There was no sign of Roxy, but I did see the prone form of a man lying on the tarmac. I smiled and then Roxy appeared; she had been checking out the far end of the alley. I saw her smile at me, pleased with her work.
"Poor chap have an accident?" I asked with a smirk.
"He just walked right into my fist – accidents will happen!" Roxy replied, with a sarcastic tone.
I dragged the unfortunate observer into the doorway, where he lay slumped against the door.
"Next question – who is he?" Roxy asked.
I rifled the man's pockets, but both surprisingly and not surprisingly came up with empty pockets! I called for a little assistance.
"How you doing, big man?" I called.
"Wandered when you two were going to check in!" Merlin commented. "What can I do for Lancelot and Galahad, today?"
"We need an ID on this unfortunate chap," I requested.
"Okay – getting his vital statistics – give me a mo –," Merlin muttered to nobody in particular as he accessed the camera in my glasses and acquired the details that he needed. "He supposed to be unconscious, or did you bore him to death?"
"Apparently he came into contact with Lancelot's fist!" I advised Merlin.
"Accidents will happen!" Merlin commented dryly. "I – oh dear!"
"Problem, oh great Merlin!"
"Yes, Lancelot – a problem. That man, whom you have there, is one Christophe Hutchinson – a very dangerous player. He is logged as leaving the UK about three weeks ago and entering the US. However, there is no record of him leaving the US, nor of re-entering the UK!"
"Disturbing," I commented.
"Indeed," Merlin replied. "Tag him and leave him. I notice that Galahad already has a tag in play heading east, out of the City."
"That would be the incompetent idiot from earlier!" Eggsy explained.
..._...
We headed back towards the hotel and our vehicles.
Once there, it seemed a good idea to change the identity of our vehicles, as their current registrations were most probably known by the opposition. On dropping into the driver's seat and pressing the 'start' button, I then pressed a 'K' icon on the touch screen display once it had come to life. A keypad appeared on the screen and I punched in my personal code, which revealed a menu of options, among which was one that I required: 'kPlate'. I selected this option and then 'Next' followed by 'Apply'. Roxy must have just used the same actions, as I saw her rear number plate clear and then a different registration number appear, in black characters, on the yellow background.
"Cool!" I commented.
"You ready to move?" Roxy called.
"Your lead, good lady!" I replied with a smirk.
I accelerated after Roxy, as she threaded her Jaguar F-Type R Coupe, out of the hotel car park and towards the M8 motorway, heading east towards the City of Edinburgh.
Twenty minutes later, we were both passing Junction 6, of the M8 and still heading east.
Between us, we had been able to isolate the vehicle that the 'incompetent idiot' was driving – a two-year-old Ford Mondeo that was anonymous and actually rather a good choice of vehicle! The man was driving normally, only a little over the seventy miles-per-hour speed limit. He seemed to be in a rush, but not overtly so.
I accelerated ahead of our target, leaving Eggsy a few cars behind. I would follow from the front, using the tracking systems in my car. Both Eggsy and I would need to be careful not to attract the attention of the Traffic Police, so kept a good look out and kept our speed under control.
..._...
Several miles further east, the man pulled into the Harthill Services. He stopped at a pump and started to fill up his car. I pulled into a nearby parking bay and waited, watching the man in my rear-view mirror. All seemed normal, as far as I could see. Eggsy also entered the services and pulled over a hundred yards past the petrol station.
Once the man had filled his car with petrol and then paid, he headed back onto the M8 motorway. Eggsy took the lead, accelerating onto the motorway before the man in his Ford Mondeo was more than a few yards beyond the pumps.
..._...
We closed up, Eggsy in his Aston Martin, two cars in front and myself, two cars behind. We continued for a number of miles like that, before the Ford Mondeo indicated to the left; he was turning off at Junction 4, which would take him north, possibly towards the town of Falkirk. The three of us continued in convoy up the A801, weaving north. Half an hour later, we approached Junction 4 of the M9 motorway, near to Falkirk.
"I'll continue around the roundabout, Roxy. Let me know where he goes," Eggsy called.
"Will do," I replied and kept a good eye on the Ford Mondeo, as we slowed at the junction onto the roundabout.
There were six potential exits off that roundabout, including the one where we sat. I saw Eggsy pull onto the roundabout and accelerate around to the left. Finally, it was the Mondeo's turn. I watched him pull onto the roundabout followed by another vehicle. I then followed, myself, keeping the Mondeo in sight.
"He's taken the second exit onto the M9, towards Stirling," I called to Eggsy.
"Right behind you, Lancelot!"
I saw Roxy's, dark sapphire Jaguar vanishing down the slip road, onto the M9, as I came around the roundabout.
Where was this guy going? Stirling, maybe? Almost immediately, Roxy was in contact again.
"He's going off again, Junction 5!" Roxy advised me with a somewhat confused tone to her voice. "He's making for Falkirk."
At the bottom of the slip road, the Mondeo turned left at the roundabout, following the A9 towards Falkirk. A few hundred yards further on, he turned left and then almost immediately, he then turned right, into a graveyard!
..._...
We both pulled over, just past the graveyard and climbed out of our cars. The Mondeo had stopped a dozen yards or so inside the graveyard and the man had climbed out. We both watched, as he walked further into the graveyard.
I gave Roxy a somewhat quizzical look and she returned the same. What was going on? We got our answer much sooner than we had expected and most definitely not, how we expected. We were just a dozen yards or so behind the man, when there was a sharp cracking sound and the man dropped to the ground.
We both ran forwards, scanning around for the danger. The 'incompetent idiot' was most definitely dead; there was a single hole in his forehead and the back of his head was garnishing a nearby gravestone.