Chapter 5
The slow ticking of the grandfather clock helped to disguise the sound of a skeleton key being slid into the Yale lock that secured the door. With a faint click, the lock released and the figure slowly pushed the door open, alert for any alarms or dogs. He had been told that there would be none and that the owner would be away for some time, but it was wise to make sure. This house was an easy target, standing detached in its own garden with no nosy neighbours to cause trouble.
He waited until he was inside before turning on his torch, though it was hardly necessary; he'd memorised the plans of the house before setting out.
Calmly and silently, moved towards his objective. Lesser men might have paused to pocket some of the valuable items in the house. Not this man. He had a specific task that he would perform to the best of his ability. The purpose of this incursion was not personal gain.
The filing cabinet was where he'd been told it would be. The lock took just seconds to open - again a suitable key had been provided. The figure smiled to himself: the owner of the house was nothing if not methodical. It took no more than a minute to collect all the papers that he had been instructed to remove. Folding them carefully, he placed them into the envelope he'd been given. Satisfied, he closed and locked the filing cabinet once more.
The torch beam swept around the room, coming to rest on the workbench and the unfinished apparatus on top.
Instinctively, he fished a miniature camera from his pocket. Despite its small size, it was capable of producing extremely sharp photographs, even when loaded, as this was with ultra-fast film, in almost total darkness.
Within minutes, he'd captured enough images of the device to allow for later analysis.
Satisfied, he tucked the camera back into the pocket and continued his examination. Finally, the beam of his torch settled on the typewriter. There was a sheet of paper in it. The figure silently crossed the room. He spotted the neatly stacked, typewritten, pile of papers next to it. By the light of the torch he read the unfinished report. Satisfied at the content, he quickly removed the sheet from the carriage and placed it in the envelope with the rest. Satisfied that his task was complete, the figure relaxed and turned to leave. His jacket brushed against the low table next to the desk. The framed photograph crashed to the floor. The figure swore and stooped to pick up the frame. Despite the cracked glass, he could see that it was a wedding photograph; the bride looking radiant with the proud husband, smart in service uniform beside her.
It was unthinkable to leave the damaged photograph; he'd just have to take it with him.
Cautiously, he made his way out of the Study. Within minutes he was on his way. The car was waiting at the end of the lane, engine ticking over quietly. He opened the passenger door and climbed in
"Any problems?" asked the driver as the envelope was passed to him
"Just the one. " The burglar passed the broken photograph over.
"Unfortunate."
The driver glanced inside the envelope. "It looks fine"
He passed the envelope and photograph back to his colleague and put the car into gear.
The engine sound faded away as the car drove away into the night
"There you go," said Waterman, knotting the bandage round Ford's hand.
"Thanks. " replied Ford, wincing. His hand throbbed.
It had been difficult to dress the wound by torchlight, but Waterman had done his best.
As far as Ford was concerned, the worst part had been when Waterman had insisted on dabbing the wound with iodine.
He tried to flex his bandaged hand.
"Hey, what're you doing?" asked Waterman when he noticed Ford's grimace.
"Just trying to work out how I'm going to drive the car. " replied Ford.
"You won't be able to drive with that hand. " Replied Waterman. "Tell you what, why don't. I drop you off and get one of the lads to collect your car in the morning? It should be safe enough here. "
"That's very kind of you," replied Ford "But I've nowhere to stay. I haven't been able to check into anywhere yet. "
"Don't worry about that," Replied Waterman "I'll put you up in my digs. "
"Digs? Shouldn't you be staying in the Mess?" Asked Ford.
"Normally yes", replied Waterman. "But the main water tank burst a fortnight ago and brought all the ceilings down. Since we're all being posted to Germany in the next couple of months, the powers-that-be decided that we'd all be better off in digs. "
"If West Raynham's mess was anything like Fylingdales', a burst water tank would be an improvement. " grinned Ford.
"I see you've experienced service life. " Waterman chuckled.
In the newsroom, the teleprinter began to chatter as a message came in:
UNCONFIRMED REPORT EARTHQUAKE ESTIMATED MAGNITUDE EIGHT POINT TWO STOP QUAKE HIT WEST TURKEY 0015 GMT STOP EPICENTRE APPROX 150 MILES SSW ISTANBUL STOP CASUALTIES VERY HEAVY STOP REUTERS END
With a chime of the bell, the teletype lapsed into silence.
The Duty Officer got up and strolled over to the machine. He tore the strip of paper off the printer and read. Whistling softly, he placed it in the editor's 'IN' tray.
Had the Duty Officer paid more attention to Geography lessons, many years before, he would have realised that the 'quake was somewhat more newsworthy; although notionally the magnitude scale went up to a maximum of 10, it was accepted that a quake of Magnitude 9, releasing just one thirty-second of the energy of Magnitude 10, would still be enough to split the Earth in two. Furthermore, the reported epicentre was significant in that it was more than a hundred miles away from the North Anatolian Fault, where such a quake would normally be expected to occur.
In blissful ignorance, he decided that a natural disaster in Turkey was one of those things you didn't get worked up about. Perhaps if the lunchtime news was a bit thin, they might slip it in, otherwise they'd let the papers run with it.
Waterman had been as good as his word. Despite the lateness of the hour, Mrs Harris, Waterman's landlady, a matronly widow in her early sixties, had been only too willing put an extra visitor up for the night. Now, his wound freshly dressed and a hot cup of tea inside him, Ford began to feel human once more. Waterman, having dropped Ford off, had returned to the Air Station to make his preliminary report and collect his own car.
Mrs Harris, naturally enough, was curious about her new guest.
"You're not with the Air Force then?" she asked him.
"No," Replied Ford, "I'm a television news reporter"
"Oh!" Mrs Harris exclaimed, "Fancy that! Come up about the flying saucers then?"
"What?" Ford hadn't told anyone the real reason for his visit to this part of the country.
"Oh yes, m'dear, there's been strange lights in the sky round these parts for years.
Old Bob Bowman says he saw a big ball of light come down in the forest two nights back. Nearly had him off his bike. Reckon it was the bottle myself. "
"Er, no," Replied Ford, "As a matter of fact, I'm on holiday." He yawned and looked at his watch: 3 a.m. No wonder he was tired.
"You'll be wanting to retire then," said Mrs Harris, noticing the yawn "I'll just show you up to your room. You're just across from Mr Waterman. "
"You're too kind" smiled Ford and followed her up the stairs.
The house was in darkness by the time Straker arrived home. That was to be expected at this hour. As quietly as possible, he unloaded his cases from the car, taking care not to slam the boot lid.
Letting himself in, he decided not to turn on the lights, so as not to wake Mary.
After removing his shoes, he tiptoed up the stairs. In the darkness, he missed the top step and stumbled, letting go of the suitcase as he regained his balance.
Straker cursed as it hit the floor.
"Ed? Ed? Is that you?"
"Hi, Sweetheart. " She stood, framed in the doorway, her blonde hair framing her face like a halo in the golden light from the lamp in the room behind her.
"Sorry it's so late but I had to see General Henderson as soon as I got back. "
She smiled. "That's all right darling". They embraced tightly.
Unseen by Straker, the smile on his wife's face faded as the memory of her book returned once more.