It is a long time since I published anything on the site but this story has been nagging away at me. Given the situation in Ukraine I'm not sure this in the best possible taste but my excuse is that this picks up about eighteen months after the end of the series. As before I can't guarantee to publish quickly - not least because I while I know the ending I've still large parts of the middle to work out.
It was cold. It was dank. It was dark. It was January. And was due to those four facts that the wide London street was virtually deserted, save for the Watcher blending into a shadowy corner at the furthermost point where the black railings were overhung by the naked branches of the plane trees. In summer a spot that was intended to provide a hint of greenery amidst the concrete. This evening it was fulfilling a different purpose, that of providing a convenient cover for one who needed to be as invisible as possible. Despite the freezing temperature and inadequate shelter the individual had been standing silently at his post for at least an hour, feet planted upon the slippery rotting leaves and windblown litter, eyes fixed on a particular doorway half way up the street. This was not action he would have contemplated when the daylight hours were longer, but at this time of the year the majority of residents were either safely ensconced indoors or, if arriving home, hastily scuttling inside seeking warmth and light. Few would have been prepared to stand patiently for so long in such chilly conditions but the watcher was not only willing to do so, he'd persistently lobbied his paymasters for the privilege. The final agreement had been given reluctantly. His argument, that it was due to his knowledge and contacts that the weapon had been primed, had finally won out, but on terms, namely that if he was caught totally deniability would be the watchword.
For himself he was confident that it would not come that. Four years of uncomfortable exile in Moscow had wrought changes in his appearance, including a substantial weight loss now helped along by hair dye and coloured contact lenses. His entrance into the country through one of the regional airports rather than the heavily scrutinised Heathrow had been unquestioned. Nor was he totally convinced that in the event of his capture he'd find a cell in one of HM's prisons substantially more uncomfortable than his existence in Mother Russia, especially when he could trade recent secrets for more acceptable quarters. A reverse betrayal by one who had already betrayed was probably a final irony, but the increasing political changes in the Kremlin had in their turn poisoned the purity of the Russia that Renaissance had served.
Before his mind could wander much further down the avenue of grievance he became aware of a car engine, heralding the anticipated arrival of the enemy. Almost silently drifting along the road, the expensive government limousine pulled up quietly in front of a house situated towards the far end of the terrace. Sinking back further into the shadows, the Watcher followed the progress of an individual of medium height emerging from the rear and, after what he assumed was a short exchange of words with the driver, proceeded to climb the steps to the front door.
This was the danger moment as tradecraft dictated a quick glance before the turning the key, but the Watcher's concealment held and the man disappeared into his home. As the snap of the front door lock reached his ears Bernard Qualtrough indulged himself with an unpleasant smile, satisfied that he had confirmed with his own eyes that this was definitely the home of the target.
The overdue reckoning was now within his grasp. Revenge for himself. Revenge for Connie and for all the others destroyed by the man he was stalking. His only regret – that when the weapon was finally unleashed he would not be able to watch the light fade from his foe's eyes. A minor sorrow but the main purpose for his presence among the leafy detritus last autumn would have been fulfilled.
By this time tomorrow evening Harry Pearce would be dead.
Thanks for reading.