It was a pleasant, leafy street: by day the view from the geriatric hospital's windows would be quite nice, Bowen thought as he made his way along the road in the darkness. He had been turning the problem of how to eliminate Henry Harris over in his mind for most of a day now. Killing someone that old and frail was not hard, but getting in and out undetected would be the challenge.
Setting up on a roof top and taking the old man out from a distance through his window was his preferred option if it was possible. Admittedly, it would be impossible to camouflage the fact that the fellow had been murdered, but given that Bowen and his team could be out of the country within hours, that wasn't really a concern. Just one small problem: all the buildings opposite were low-rise. Not ideal conditions for a sniper.
In that case he would have to find a way to get into the hospital and administer a lethal dose of pentobarbital, assuming there wasn't some medication the old man was already on which couldn't be used. This had the advantage of making it easier to make Harris' death look like natural causes. But it also carried a far higher risk of being caught by Harris' carers. Bowen hated having to operate like this: a tight time frame and minimal information.
He decided to have a snoop indoors. With families coming and going at all times of the day and night, sometimes the security at these places could be pretty lax. Who knew? Maybe he'd be able to get the job done tonight, which would at least represent some progress on this frustrating assignment.
He trotted around to the main entrance, and then loitered until he saw a group coming out. Walking purposefully and shooting a pleasant smile at them as he entered, he made his way past the receptionist's desk and walked down the hallway.
xxxx
As Jimmy Shannon drove, he felt nervous that he'd let Bowen out of his sight. Half the secret in tailing someone was already knowing where they were probably headed. He knew he was making a guess, and he didn't want to face the rest of his team and admit that he'd screwed up just as royally as they had this morning. As he reached the intersection which should – would – bring him back in contact with Bowen, he eased over to wait at the side of the road. Sure enough, after a few minutes Bowen appeared, walking along glancing up at the windows of the hospital. Casing it? Shannon got some pictures as Bowen moved off into the night. Where was he heading now? Shannon chewed his lip, weighing up whether to move off in the car or get out and follow on foot. Then he saw Bowen briefly silhouetted against the lit up sign of the main entrance. The bastard was heading inside. He made the right-hand turn, drove a little way and then pulled the car level with the main gate and parked it. After a couple of minutes he got out and strolled in the direction of the main entrance.
Xxxx
Bowen kept his expression pleasantly neutral and his stride purposeful as he walked along the hallway. After twenty or thirty yards he came to a cross corridor, and without hesitating he turned right and began along it. At the end he could see a nurses' station with a single nurse staffing it. Her back was mostly to him, and so he turned the handle of the next darkened room he came to. The occupant was asleep or unconscious as he pressed the call button and retreated. He continued along the corridor and again turned right to walk past the station, but before he'd gone five yards the nurse was leaving to answer the call.
He knew he had perhaps thirty seconds before she was back, but all he needed was a room number… he was in and out in twenty seconds and moving along the hallway as the puzzled nurse returned. Room 14 was back near the entrance, but he didn't want to pass the nurses' station again and so he kept going.
Walking down to the end of the corridor, he came to another crossroads and turned right again. Discovering the Indies by sailing west, old boy… he knew he was probably being caught by every surveillance camera in the place. But if they could snatch McKay tomorrow night they could be out of the country again in thirty-six hours and leave the stink, and any murder investigation, far behind.
Another cross corridor, leading back towards the main entrance. Sadly, no-one was coming in the main doors to give him cover as he walked past the reception desk again. But the nurse there didn't look up from her computer screen. Along just a few more yards to Room 14. Bowen saw his goal ahead of him like the Pearly Gates. He moved up to the door and softly turned the handle, glancing around to make sure no-one was watching. But in the waiting room opposite Harris' door a couple were sitting at a table. The woman had her back to him, but the man stiffened and began to rise from his seat as Bowen involuntarily met his eyes. McKay? What was he doing here? But when Bowen saw the man going for a gun, he turned and ran like buggery.
Xxxxx
Shannon decided not to follow Bowen into the hospital. Instead, he circled the building to satisfy himself that all the side and back entrances were locked at this time of the evening, and then took up station just outside the lit area with a good line of sight to the big entrance doors. The hospital's internal security cameras would be able to tell him what Bowen had been up to inside, and he was confident he could pick up Bowen as he came out again. The night was cool but not particularly cold, and he leaned himself against a tree to wait. But he hadn't been waiting long when he saw Bowen's figure charge headlong through the doors and come flying down the ramp at the entrance. A scant dozen yards behind him came another figure, similar height, dressed in a suit. Bowen sprinted past Shannon's spot and made it out to the main road, the other guy still in hot pursuit. The CIA man couldn't hold in an appreciative smile as he saw Bowen flag down a taxi, fling himself into the back seat and drive off under the nose of his pursuer. Them's the breaks, fella, he thought in the direction of the defeated man, now walking back towards him. But as the guy in the suit came past him, Shannon's eyes widened. It couldn't be him, he was dead twice over. He lifted his phone and took a picture just in case. As the man disappeared back inside the building Shannon took another look at the photo. "Well fuck me raw," he said reverently. They were going to be pissed as hell back at Langley when they saw this. He almost wished he could be a fly on the wall. Then he unwished it, and wished he could be a very, very long way away instead. Antarctica, maybe. Reluctantly, he scrolled through his contacts and placed a call.
"Julian? I have some news. No, it's not about the SIS guy, at least not directly…."
xxxx
"Joss? We have a major problem. I've just found evidence in the British Consulate's files that there was a three-man team after our Numbers. And I've lost contact with Ms Shaw." Finch sounded worried over her earpiece.
Joss gave an exasperated sigh. "I could wish you'd called a couple of minutes ago, Harold. I think we just had a run-in with one of your three. He arrived here a moment ago and tried to get into Harris' room. The moment he saw John he ran, and John went after him."
"Ah."
Joss couldn't read anything out of the one syllable, and it was getting late. "What do you mean, 'ah', Finch? Just what the hell do you expect us to do out here?"
There was a pause from Finch's end. "Remain where you are, Detective. I'll access domain awareness cameras and try to ascertain what happened to Ms Shaw. Last I heard from her she was with McKay at his favourite night club. It's always possible she's merely taken her cell phone battery out. For some reason..."
xxxx
As the cab took him back to Manhattan Bowen sat silently cursing. This was the most godawful, fucked-up operation he'd ever had the misery to participate in. What the hell was McKay doing out here right now? Visiting Grandad? How did he know Bowen was planning to kill the old man? He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off an incipient headache as the taxi dropped him a few blocks from the Coronet. But when he made his way back to his room the news got even worse. David Goodwin had been using his initiative.
xxxxx
"What the fuck, David? I can't leave you alone for a bloody minute, can I. You were supposed to do a recce, not a bloody kidnapping!"
Bowen gave David what he hoped was a basilisk glare. Goodwin seemed unfazed. "I know I was doing a recce, Martin, but the opportunity was too good to pass up. I've got our mystery woman under lock and key, McKay's none the wiser, and we can go ahead with the snatch as planned. No downside."
"Unless she's got a team somewhere backing her up," Kevin grumbled from the couch.
"I have a theory about her," said David. "I heard a rumour about a shakeup in the Americans' ISA outfit. Among other things, a woman agent disappeared. I think this is her, gone off the grid. In which case she's independent."
Martin considered this. "Well, I just hope you're bloody right, David. Because if you aren't, you're stuck with killing her. And getting rid of the body, which under the current circumstances is going to be sodding difficult." He glared again at the other man. "And don't go doing anything like this again." A sudden thought struck him. "Hang on, you said McKay was there when you grabbed her?"
David nodded.
"Then who the hell was out at the hospital this evening? Because he looked a hell of a lot like McKay." He described his embarrassing failure at the hospital.
David and Kevin were both quiet for a moment. "Maybe he's got an evil twin," said Kevin at last.
"Ha bloody ha," snarled Bowen. He got up and paced over to the window. "Shit. This is turning into a complete shambles. What the hell are we going to tell them at Vauxhall Cross?"
"Look, I don't see a need to panic," said David after a moment. "We go on to make the snatch tomorrow night. Once we've grabbed McKay, we squeeze him until he coughs up the file, then we disappear him and the file both."
"That still leaves Harris," said Bowen. "And the McKay lookalike."
David shrugged. "Whoever the guy in the suit is, he can't be there all the time. We both go out there tomorrow morning. Between us we can decoy him away if he's there, and one of us can get in and do the necessary."
"Gah." Bowen ran a hand through his hair in exasperation, resisting the urge to tear at it. "We don't have much choice. Okay, we'll have a crack at it tomorrow. Meanwhile, how are you planning to sleep with someone tied up on your bed?"
"I'll manage," said David.
Kevin was shaking his head. "Since I'm stuck here now they know my face, I'll take the first shift. You can doss on my bed, David."
Bowen stretched. "Well, you two can bugger off right now. I need to sleep."
The others rose and made their way out. Bowen dropped face down across his bed. He didn't even bother to remove his earpiece, let alone his clothes. He was asleep in seconds.
xxxx
Carter was sitting in Grandpa's room with her gun out on her lap when Reese got back. The old man was still asleep, the yellow of the lamplight making his face look even sicker. She looked up as he came in. "Finch just called. He says he just found out there's a team of three after your grandpa." She sighed and cocked an eyebrow in his direction. "Didn't get him, huh?"
Reese shook his head.
"Mm. Well, I'm not surprised. He took off like a jack rabbit."
"Yeah. Which is one of the things which tells us he's MI6. He was desperate not to get caught."
"How d'you figure that?"
He seated himself as he thought about this. "Working in an… unfriendly… jurisdiction is easier in some ways. If you're caught, you just sit tight. Sooner or later the Agency will get you out. They'll bribe someone, or trade someone, or maybe even bust you out. It may take weeks or months, and it won't be fun, but sooner or later they'll come for you. But if the government's friendly, that's different. Then, you're not so much an asset as an embarrassment. They'll probably look the other way while whoever's got you throws away the key, and if you ever do get out, there'll be no hole deep enough to hide in. I was only ever working in England the once, but believe me, if I'd been in the same position there, I'd've run like hell too."
"We've scared them off for now," said Joss reflectively. "But I guess that means the next try will just be more subtle. Looks like we're here for the night, then."
"Yeah." Reese looked again at the shrivelled, yellow old man lying in the bed. "Though I'm thinking if they want to kill him, they might need to hurry up."
xxxxx
He was at the Badminton Horse Trials. How he came to be there he couldn't recall, but here he was, in one of the most prestigious competitions in the world, just starting the cross-country course. He was up on Kairos, of course, and the big chestnut gelding was going beautifully.
The first few obstacles were reasonably easy, big but straightforward. But as they cleared each one successfully Bowen's confidence rose. They had a decent dressage score behind them, and now was the chance to really put some pressure on the front-runners. Down a moderate slope towards the next obstacle, a tricky in-and-out job with the choice of a longer or shorter route through. Such was his confidence that he chose the short route, delighting in the supple responsiveness of the horse as he guided the old fellow through. Perfect! They were away again, and he allowed his mount to stretch out into an extended canter. The sky was blue, the air heavy with the scent of grass and the earth turned up by the preceding horses' hooves. Kairos was barely sweating. I thought you'd died years ago, old lad. So good to be together again. Then they came to the water obstacle, and it all went wrong. Suddenly it wasn't water. It was blood, stinking and fly-blown in the summer sun. Kairos snorted at the smell and shied violently. Bowen was thrown onto the horse's neck before he knew it. As Kairos swerved to the left, desperate to avoid the foul-smelling mess, he was out of the saddle completely. His momentum carried him on: a bruising impact with the timbers of the jump, and then he was sitting in a two-foot deep pool of blood. Flies buzzed and tried to make their way up his nose and into his mouth-
He woke up gasping and sweating, rolled over and lay there waiting for his heart rate to go back to normal. The blood dream again. Though it was nice to see his subconscious thought he could ride at Badminton, he thought ruefully. He groped for a water bottle, took several long swallows, and lay back, waiting for sleep to take him again.
To be continued….