Master of Murder
Chapter 10
The Chase Scene
Anthea's laptop bleeped. She rubbed her eyes and yawned, it had been a long night. A red dot flashed on a simplified street map of London. Shifting in the seat, she reached for her Blackberry and began tapping on its tiny keyboard.
ON THE MOVE
ANT
She put the phone on the passenger seat beside the laptop where she could see both screens and started her engine. She had training in surveillance, but she normally didn't get involved with this side of the business. But then, this wasn't a normal situation.
Her Blackberry chimed and displayed a text reply.
LEAVING NOW
SH
She pulled away from the curb as Reginald's black Bentley exited the parking garage.
—Ɵ—
"No time to waste, John, get to the Range Rover!" Sherlock shouted, pocketing his phone. "Let us see where he leads us!"
John Watson grabbed his laptop and quickly followed Sherlock to their vehicle.
Sherlock could nervously feel his adrenaline level rising. He felt like Batman with Robin in tow as they pursued The Joker with the Batmobile.
After talking with Lestrade, he remained convinced that Reginald Morris was behind Penelope's murder as well as Mycroft's disappearance. Contacting Anthea, he requested her to use her resources to plant a GPS tracking device on Reggie's car. He knew something had to happen soon. Now the rabbit was running; the chase was on.
John turned on his laptop and started the GPS application, punching in the numbers that Anthea had provided to them. A screen similar to the one on Anthea's laptop soon appeared on his.
Sherlock started the engine and quickly pulled out of the parking space, squealing the tires. John tightened his grip on the laptop and dry swallowed; he had forgotten to fasten his seat belt.
"Which way, John?" Sherlock said anxiously.
"He's on Marylebone, headed this way. We should be able to slip in behind him with no trouble. Just slow down and let him pass; it shouldn't be too long."
Sherlock slammed his hands against the wheel in frustration. "Take it slow? Take it slow? I need to drive fast! This is the chase scene!"
"It's surveillance, Sherlock! We're following him, not running him off the road. Calm down. We need to get behind him, not in front of him."
Sherlock reluctantly slowed down to a crawl. Fortunately traffic was light at this time of the evening so there were no problems. John took the opportunity to grab his seat belt and click it. The red dot on the screen slowly moved towards their location.
"He's still coming. Just a minute or two," John said.
"This is it, John. I can feel it. I need to chase him. Where is he damn it?"
"Just wait, wait. He's headed west on Marylebone. He should pass us momentarily. I can't help it that he didn't go the other way. Apparently, we are between him and his destination."
Sherlock clutched the steering wheel. He sighed and banged his head against the headrest. "Come on, come on, come on," he droned.
"Okay, get ready, he's at Regent's Park," said John.
"Finally!" Sherlock exclaimed as he started watching the intersection before them intently.
As the Bentley cruised through the intersection of Baker Street and Marylebone Sherlock stepped on the accelerator and took up a position behind it.
"Not too close," cautioned John.
"I'm the consulting detective," Sherlock snorted indignantly, "I know how to tail a suspect. I don't need instructions."
Sherlock's pocket beeped. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and handed it to John. "Answer that."
"It's Anthea, she's behind us." John paused and then said softly, "She says you're too close."
"He needs to speed up," Sherlock spouted. "This can't be a proper chase with him plodding along at," he paused and looked at the speedometer, "seventy clicks."
"That's a normal driving speed, you need to calm down. You're on the patch, aren't you?"
"Damn the patches," Sherlock snapped, "I'm fine." He released pressure on the accelerator and dropped back a little. "See, I'm letting him get away. Are you happy now?"
"He's exiting, don't take the flyover," John said.
Sherlock drifted into the left lane to take the Edgware Road exit.
"Go left."
"Two," muttered Sherlock as he turned left on Edgware.
"What?"
"Two patches; I just used two."
John shook his head, "I knew it."
Sherlock craned his neck, "I can't see him. He's gotten away."
"He's still there. Just because there are a couple of cars between us does not mean that he's lost us. Keep going straight."
John glanced in the side mirror at the traffic behind them. Yes, there was Anthea in a red Aston Martin DBS convertible.
"There he is, I can see him again," Sherlock sighed. "Wait! No! He's getting away!"
The Bentley slid past Kendal Street as the traffic light turned red. Sherlock pushed the accelerator to the floor. "Don't!" shouted John as Sherlock sped through the light. Blue lights flashed and there was the short burst of a siren behind them.
As he pulled to the curb Sherlock saw Anthea drive slowly past. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The police officer rapped a knuckle on his window, motioning him to roll it down.
"Red means stop," he said in a joking manner, "I need to see your license, please."
Sherlock fumbled with his wallet. "I am a consulting detective for Scotland Yard," he said, extracting his driver's license and flashing it for the officer. "We are in pursuit of a dangerous suspect."
The officer took the license and glanced at it. "Yes sir, Mr. Holmes, I'll be right back," he said and turned to walk back to his vehicle.
Sherlock clenched his fists and fumed. "He's getting away!" he said under his breath to John.
John reached over, turned off the engine and pulled the keys out of the ignition switch.
"What? Wait! Put those back!"
"I know you, Sherlock. You were getting ready to pull out," John said as he dropped the keys in his pocket. "That's not a good idea. Anthea is still following Morris and we still have his location on GPS. We'll catch up, just be patient."
"Ahhhhhh!" Sherlock screamed.
—Ɵ—
Reginald pulled into the driveway and pressed the button on a remote control. The garage door gave a loud clank and rolled open. He turned off his engine, got out of the car and walked into the garage where an identical Bentley sat. Pressing a button on the wall, the garage door reversed direction and glided closed.
—Ɵ—
Anthea pulled to the curb a few houses away and turned off her headlights. It was the Battersea safe house. She had escorted many passengers to and from this location in the past. Picking up her Blackberry, she sent a text to Sherlock.
WHR R U?
ANT
She received a reply almost immediately.
ON R WAY
B THER SOON
JOHN
—Ɵ—
Entering the kitchen from the garage, Reginald found Tumbleson sitting at the table playing Klondike with a deck of cards he had found in one of the drawers. "How's our boy doing?" he asked.
Tumbleson turned and looked at the video monitor behind him. "Just fine," he answered, "no problems, except he keeps asking to pee. So, ah, when are we gonna to get rid of him?"
Reginald put his hand in his pocket, and awkwardly walked over to the table in front of Tumbleson. Besides the card game in progress, there were several empty lager cans, naughty magazines, a rubber mask and several items belonging to Mycroft; including a large ring of keys, a wallet and a Glock 27 semi-automatic pistol. "Is that Mycroft's gun?" he asked.
"Yeah, he had it in a little holster under his arm."
Reggie clucked his tongue, "Tsk, tsk, tsk, Mycroft, MI5 officers aren't supposed to carry weapons.* Of course, with all the different hats he wears, I suppose one of the agencies requires them." He pulled a pair of latex gloves out of his pocket and started to put them on.
"What are the gloves for?"
Reginald smiled. "Fingerprints," he said as he picked up the pistol. "And powder residue."
"Ya gonna to shoot him with his own gun?"
He ejected the magazine, checked to make sure it was loaded, and snapped it back in place. Racking a cartridge into the chamber and flipping off the safety, he sighed and placed the barrel against Tumbleson's forehead. "No, I'm not going to shoot him."
—Ɵ—
* MI5 prohibition of weapons documented by Eye Spy Magazine. Reference .