I was fully intending to sit on this chapter until next week....but I found myself with a quiet morning at work and managed to bash it into shape.
You see, feedback does guilt-trip me into posting faster LOL
Starbucks; Villiers Street - 0800 Monday 16th January
The coffee shop was buzzing with early morning commuters on their way into work. The queue for the counter snaked its way through the shop, and the thumping music from the stereo system competed against the constant chatter of the waiting customers for supremacy.
Harry watched with a certain degree of satisfaction as Oliver Mace scowled and tried to disguise his obvious displeasure. Harry loathed Starbucks and the other coffee house chains that had sprung up in recent years. Whilst the coffee they dispensed was invaluable at this hour of the day; he couldn't abide the brusque baristas and their seeming inability to understand that he wanted a straightforward cup of coffee, not something adulterated with syrup or chocolate or sprinkled with cinnamon. He pushed his own personal displeasure to one side however; he had wanted somewhere where Mace felt uncomfortable, where he was most likely to reveal more than he was supposed to.
He took a sip of his own coffee before addressing Mace.
"Why was 6's close surveillance of Azhar al-Hassan not made clear to us at the outset?"
Mace pursed his lips.
"Don't take that tone with me Harry; I can assure you that..."
"Don't bullshit me Oliver," Harry slammed his hand down on the table immediately attracting the attention of everyone else in the cafe. Doing his best to ignore the disapproving stares and low mutterings from two old women sat nursing their cups of coffee at an adjacent table; Harry turned his attention back to Mace and lowered his voice.
"Don't treat me like one of your whey-faced lackeys Oliver. There's no way that you'd let someone like al-Hassan get within spitting distance of the country without knowing every last detail about him. Don't sit there and tell me that you know he wears Armani boxers and then try and make me believe that you were unaware of who he really was."
"Even the best of us makes mistakes."
"Not when it comes to something as profitable as selling secrets to the highest bidder. Stirring up the red ants and the black ants was always your favourite pastime Oliver; I somehow doubt that the intervening years have changed you." Harry leant across the table. "I meant what I said before."
Mace took a breath and regarded Harry, weighing up his options.
"al-Hassan's presence was of course known to us, but it wasn't his existing knowledge that was of interest to us." He glanced around to make sure that they weren't being overheard. "al-Hassan made contact with some rather interesting parties prior to his arrival in this country. It looks as though he's not satisfied with the current state of his country's military ability. He'd like to see things return to the way that they used to be in the not so olden days."
Harry frowned. "Who exactly has he been talking to?"
A thin smile formed on Mace's face. "I can't tell you that, but I can tell you that he's ruffled more than a few feathers on his travels."
"Why was this information not available to us when he arrived in the country?"
"It was on a need to know basis."
"Need to know basis," Harry's tone was incredulous. "We were responsible for safeguarding his passage through the country. You don't think that the small matter of his real identity was something that we should have been made aware of?"
Mace affected a smile. "He's a man who's had his fingers in more than a few unsavoury pies down the years Harry. Nothing to get over-excited about."
"This is not little Jack Horner we're talking about here Oliver. He pulls his finger out and I'm pretty certain that there's not going to be a plum on the end of it. I want to know what he was doing in this country and why certain parties were actively encouraged to snatch him away from beneath our noses."
Mace looked at Harry for a few seconds; deciding whether or not he could reveal information.
"Abdul-Latif Zebari contacted us before his arrival in the country and warned us who was likely to be in tow. He wanted shot of him and we told him that we'd take care of it."
Harry struggled to contain his anger.
"What did he offer in return? A few pence off the price of a barrel of oil!"
"You know better than to ask me questions like that Harry," Mace chided.
"You handed false details about al-Hassan to a loud-mouthed drunk and trusted him to do the job!"
"Assets are there to be used Harry. Don't tell me that you are getting soft in your old age? You can't sit there and preach ethics at me. I know the things you have done in the past."
"I never set one of my own up to be killed."
"I'm sorry for the loss of your officer Harry; I had no idea that Ms Evershed would become entangled in the affair. I presume you've arranged something suitable to tell the family?"
"She's not dead yet Oliver."
Mace took a mouthful of his own coffee before placing the mug carefully back on the table.
"But we both know that it won't be long."
"You are not going to simply bury this and get away with it."
Mace let out a low chuckle.
"Harry, please; you know that that's exactly what we are going to do. No-one is going to take us to task for protecting national security. If al-Hassan had been allowed to make contact and sell the information he had on offer, we would be looking at the demise of decidedly more than one British national. You need to look at the bigger picture."
"Bigger picture!" Harry's tone was rising. He was about to make further comment but Mace cut him off.
"I'm serious Harry. You were told to leave this matter alone and I suggest that you do just that. These are international waters that you are meddling in and they have nothing to do with you."
"That's where you are mistaken..."
"You know I'm right. That's the problem. Get your people out of this investigation and make sure than nothing links them back to it...unless you want the ruin of several careers on your conscience." Oliver looked disdainfully down at the coffee in front of him and pushed his chair away from the table. "These are muddy waters Harry; steer a course round them...for your own sake."
Tetsworth - 0800 Monday 16th January
Jo shut and locked the car door, stifling a yawn as she did so. She'd never been the biggest fan of early morning starts, but the phone call from Adam two hours earlier had been one that she couldn't ignore.
He'd called and asked her to come out to where he'd spent the night watching the goings on at Littleton Farm.
Pulling her coat tightly around herself, she headed off across the rough terrain, following the directions that Adam had sent her, watching her breath form in small white puffs as she made her way through the frozen grass.
She had struggled with feelings of guilt during her journey home the previous evening. She felt as though she was betraying Ruth in some way by stopping the search for even a few hours. Zaf had tried to make her feel better about it; pointing out that she wasn't going to be of any help to Ruth if she was too tired to think clearly. She knew the point that he was trying to make, but her mind wouldn't let the thought go. She had woken up in the early hours, convinced that she had heard Ruth's voice calling out to her. The feeling had been hard to shake and she'd only managed a fitful restless sleep after that.
As she neared the crest of the hill, she looked for the tree line that Adam had mentioned. It sat just below the final rise of the hill and made for the perfect vantage point.
Making sure that she kept below the rise, she made her way towards a small group of trees. She soon spotted Adam, crouched down amid the undergrowth, a pair of binoculars trained on the valley below. Pushing on through the long, uncut grass, she headed towards him.
Adam looked up in surprise as Jo wordlessly handed him a flask, before trying to make herself comfortable among the twisted roots of the trees.
"Thanks."
She shot him a smile.
"I know how I am in the morning without coffee. I imagined you were worse somehow."
"Hmm," Adam unscrewed the cap and poured himself a cup full. "Thanks...I think."
Jo smirked at him and reached for the binoculars. Finding a space in the hedgerow she took a look down into the valley.
"A silver Mercedes left about twenty minutes ago," Adam informed her as he took a much needed mouthful of coffee. "The windows were tinted so I couldn't tell how many people were in it. I think we should head down there and take a look at the place."
"What!"
"I've been here all night. That has been the first sign of life and that was someone leaving. We come up with a cover and we go down there." He glanced in Jo's direction. "We don't have a lot of time left." He left the sentence there, knowing that he didn't have to explain things further.
Jo lowered the binoculars and met his gaze.
"Drink up then."
Bromfelde Road SW4 - 0900 Monday 16th January
Ros parked the car at the end of the road. After her talk with the officer from 6 the previous night, she was certain that Henderson knew more than he was saying. Henderson had been paid for the contract to kill al-Hassan, only it looked as though he had sold it on.
Ros wondered if Henderson had just gone soft in his old age. He'd told her that he'd gone out for a drink to celebrate the work that he'd been given, but she was beginning to doubt that that was the real reason. He'd not got his hands dirty in years; it was possible that he'd just lost the taste for it.
Her pace slowed fractionally as she neared his house, her eyes scanning the area, looking out for anything that might be out of place. She wondered briefly when it had become second nature. A newspaper, one of the free local kind was sticking out of his letterbox and the curtains were still drawn. Ros glanced at her watch. It had gone nine; there was the chance that Henderson was just a late riser, but something tugged at Ros's suspicions.
With a swift movement, she pulled the lock pick from her pocket and inserted it into the door. As before it took only a few seconds to pick the lock and she pushed gently against the glass panel that filled the top third of the door.
The hallway was dark and a small pile of letters lay on the floor uncollected. Ros frowned and pushed the door closed behind her as quietly as she could. There were two explanations for the unclaimed letters – either Henderson had decided that a day or two away was the sensible thing or...well, Ros preferred not to dwell on the second possibility.
She made her way down the hallway, staying light on the balls of her feet. To the left was the door to the living room and it was sitting slightly ajar, a faint sound of music could be heard from within. Ros pressed her hand against the painted wood and eased it open, wincing as it creaked beneath her touch.
She stuck her head around the opening and quickly scanned the room. The place was exactly as she had seen it last. The television was on, a DVD playing, the short menu sequence repeating itself over and over again. Seated in an armchair was Henderson, staring sightlessly at the repeating images - a small entry wound in the middle of his forehead the only indication that anything was wrong.
Ros made her way across the room, two fingers reaching out to press against the side of Henderson's neck. There was no doubt that he was dead; it was just a matter of trying to work out if the culprits were still in the vicinity. Henderson's skin was cold, almost waxy to the touch. He'd been dead for a while.
Pulling her phone from her pocket, Ros selected a speed dial option and began pacing the room, silently willing Harry to pick up the call.
"What is it?" Harry's voice barked into her ear moments later.
"I'm at Henderson's place...I think we may have a problem."
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
"What does he want?"
Ros took a breath. "A casket."
The pause was longer this time.
"It wasn't anything I did," Ros felt obliged to explain. "I've just found him here, looks as though whoever it was, was out of the door a few hours…" she tailed off
"Ros?" Harry prompted after a few moments.
"I'm sorry... it was something Henderson said last time I saw him. I should have made the connection sooner. He told me that he was fed up with me following him around."
"So?" Harry's patience was wearing thin.
"It wasn't me that he was seeing." Ros explained. "I wasn't with him for the full day, and even if I had been, he wouldn't have seen me."
"So someone else was on his tail?"
"And there's one obvious answer as to who that was. Henderson was tasked with getting al-Hassan out of the picture. What if there was something that was kept from 6? What if al-Hassan was actually here to do business and had a meeting already set up?"
"I imagine that the people he was due to meet would be more than a little irked at his disappearance," Harry agreed, seeing the point that Ros was making; her guesswork matching the information that he'd been able to glean from Mace earlier.
"al-Hassan doesn't turn up at the appointed hour and they start their own investigation into where he might be."
"You think that they found him?"
Ros turned her head and looked at Henderson. "It was a clean, professional kill.... Harry...If Henderson did know anything and blurted it out..." she let the sentence tail off. There was no point in finishing it. He'd know what she was getting at. If they didn't act fast then there wouldn't be anyone left alive to recover.
"I'll get onto Adam," she told Harry smoothly, as she headed for the door. "If Henderson told them anything, then he's going to need to know."
Tetsworth - 1000 Monday 16th January
Adam turned his head and regarded Jo, as he heard her let out a shuddering breath.
"Are you alright?"
She took a couple of deep breaths and then nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine."
Adam smiled. "You're not a very convincing liar."
"Sorry."
"If you weren't at least a little nervous then I'd be concerned," Adam told her. "We've got one chance to do this… and I know I don't need to tell you of the possible consequences."
"It's those consequences that are making me nervous," Jo admitted. She turned her head and looked up at her colleague. "Do you really think that they're ok?"
Adam squeezed her shoulder. "We have to keep positive," he told her. "Azhar will be the main interest; there isn't any reason for them to concern themselves with Ruth."
Adam knocked smartly on the door and then glanced quickly at Jo, flashing her, what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
For a long while there was no sign of life from within the building.
"Should we knock again?"
Adam shook his head. "Let's just give them time to sort themselves out." He leant back slightly and glanced up at the building. "I'm sure that somewhere there's someone peering out of the windows and trying to work out just who's…." He broke off as he heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching the door. Adam grabbed hold of Jo's hand and plastered a smile on his face.
There was a pause, where Adam fully suspected the figure behind the door was regarding them closely through the small peephole. Finally there was a scrabbling sound of a bolt being drawn back and the door opened a crack.
"What do you want?"
Adam tried to make eye contact with the nervous looking face that appeared in the small opening.
"I'm sorry. My wife and I…" he stopped and smiled at Jo. She blushed and stared down at the floor.
There was a heavy sigh from the man behind the door and Adam switched his attention back to him.
"Excuse me," he apologised. "I guess that I'm still not used to saying that phrase. 'My wife'," he repeated, and Jo squeezed his hand tighter. "The thing is…we supposed to be staying at Franklin's Farm…We've been looking for it for ages and haven't been able to find it." He looked at the man. "I don't suppose…" he tailed off hopefully.
"Never heard of it," the man snapped back at them and made to close the door again.
"Please," Adam placed his free hand against the door and prevented it from being shut. "We really are lost. If you could help us out at all I'd be very grateful."
Adam watched as the man appraised the pair of them; obviously looking to see if they were likely to make the offer of some kind of financial reward.
"I'm sorry," he told them abruptly. "I've never heard of the place."
"Could I use a phone?" Adam smoothly tried to keep the conversation going. "I can't seem to get a signal on my mobile."
The man glanced nervously back over his shoulder. "I'm sorry," he snapped, suddenly seeming to decide that there was nothing to be gained from the conversation. "I really don't have the time to deal with this."
"I'm happy to pay for the call," Adam offered. "I mean I'm stranded here...you really would be helping us out."
"I'm sorry," the man repeated.
"It's just a phone call...and then I'll be out of here," Adam met the man's gaze. "I'd be very very grateful."
"I'm sorry," he searched around for an excuse. "...We don't have a phone."
"Could you tell me where I should go then?" Adam asked politely.
Sighing heavily, the man realised that he wasn't about to get rid of the couple in a hurry. He opened the door wider and stepped out into the freezing air.
"If you go down that way..." he pointed down the deeply rutted track towards the narrow lane that snaked away into the distance. He stopped, realising that he couldn't see a car anywhere. "How did you..."
Adam seized the opportunity and stepped in, applying pressure to the collection of nerves at the back of the man's neck.
Jo watched Adam pull the man out of the way round the side of the building, and then started down the long dark hallway; keeping as light on her feet as she could, so as not to arouse the suspicion of anyone else in the house.
She peered through the open doorways into the rooms as she went; most of them were in various stages of disrepair. From the intelligence that they'd been able to gather, the farm had ceased as a working dairy some ten years earlier upon the death of the owner. His son had retained the rights to the property but done nothing with it and, as far as the neighbours were concerned it was now slowly rotting away. As the smell of damp and mould filled her nostrils, Jo had to agree that the neighbours were spot on the money with their guesses. The place had deteriorated a lot. Several panes in the windows were broken and nature looked as though it was making a valiant effort to reclaim the place. She swallowed hard as the smell of damp grew and tried to focus on breathing through her mouth.
At the end of the stone-flagged passageway was a painted wooden door; the white paint was flaking from it, and it stood ajar; the door no longer flush with the hinges.
Jo winced as she tried to move it, despite her best efforts it creaked ominously and she hastily let go. Turning her head she could see Adam making his way along the corridor to join her.
He smiled at her and then placed his shoulder against the door, trying to move it as quietly as he could. Every squeak and creak seemed to echo throughout the house, but no-one came to investigate and, as soon as there was a gap wide enough to slip through, Jo made her move.
She passed through the gap and into the rear of the house. The building was in the same state of disrepair, but here there were signs of recent human activity. She let out a breath that she hadn't realised she'd been holding and took in the piles of empty tins and bottles that littered the floor.
Feeling a tap on her shoulder, she turned to see Adam pull a handgun from the holster beneath his shoulder. She stepped back and let him take the lead, reaching for her own weapon. They had every reason to expect that the men were armed and as the instructor on her training course had been at great pains to point out, it was always better to expect the worst.
"Not that I'm complaining," Jo whispered beneath her breath, "But where is everyone?"
Adam shrugged his shoulders and continued his methodical search of the back of the house.
"No-one here," he told her in whispered tones. "Up or down?"
Jo frowned and then noticed the door that Adam was indicating. It was the same white-painted wood as the others, but looked as though it had seen more recent use. There was evidence of oil on the hinges and marks around the door handle, disturbing the layers of dust that had built up.
"I guess we go down," she replied simply.
Bromfelde Road SW4 - 1030 Monday 16th January
Ros clicked her tongue against her teeth impatiently as she heard Malcolm on the other end of the phone, trying to make contact with Adam. From the sound of things he wasn't having much success. She'd searched through Henderson's house and there had been precious little to find, but there was a meeting date that was scribbled on a notepad by the phone. Ros had the nasty suspicion that Henderson had been trying to sell the information about al-Hassan a second time.
"Come on Malcolm," she urged. "There has to be some way of getting through to them."
"I'm doing the best that I can," he assured her, fighting against the temptation to simply put the phone down on her.
"I thought you said that you'd given Adam a way of getting around the dampening field?"
"I did."
"And yet your little toy doesn't appear to be working now."
The line went quiet, both of them realising what the implications were.
"Get onto Harry," Ros urged. "Tell him that we need a tactical firearms team out there now."
Tetsworth - 1040 Monday 16th January
Jo winced as she heard her footsteps echo back from the bare walls as she made her way down the stairs into the cellar. She halted on the creaking steps and listened out, straining her hearing, hoping to hear the sounds of someone out there. There was nothing.
She took another few steps and then halted, her breath catching in the back of her throat. Memories of Colin flashed through her mind, the pain of his funeral still raw in her mind. She didn't want to think about what they might find down here in the damp and the darkness.
She turned her head as the powerful white beam of a torch washed over the walls.
Adam nodded silently at her as he drew level, letting the light from the torch play over the rest of the stairs. The ceiling was low and the walls seemed to be built from the same local stone as the rest of the building. The cellar stretched away into the darkness; storerooms visible on either side. There was no sign of life. Adam began to fear that they were too late and that the vehicle he had seen leaving earlier in the day had in fact been carrying Ruth and Azhar.
He felt Jo's hand on his arm as the beam of the torch passed over the heavy wooden doors of the storerooms.
"Adam!" Jo guided his hand away from the doors and directed the beam instead towards the left hand side of the room, where he could make out something propped against the wall.
The brilliant white beam lit up the bodies that were lying, one atop the other, eyes wide open and unblinking in death.
"Oh my god," the words fell from Jo's lips as she stared horrified at the sight.