Adrian Magson - Execution

Harry reached a door at the end of the hall, down a short flight of steps. It was part of an extension to the main building, with a side window giving a narrow view to the rear, and he guessed it gave out onto the street he and Rik had seen at the back. He tried the door. Solid and unmoving, opening towards him. It would take an axe to get through it.

He ran back to the apartment and found Rik standing in a living room littered with discarded pizza boxes and beer cans. A huge plasma television was on with the sound muted, showing a children’s programme.

‘If it was them,’ said Rik, ‘they travelled light.’

Harry bent to one side of an armchair. He picked up a small can of Birchwood Casey gun oil lying on its side, dripping its contents onto the parquet flooring. Near it, just under the edge of the chair, something shiny caught his eye.

It was a single round of 9mm ammunition.

Harry put down the can and called Ballatyne. The MI6 man answered immediately. ‘Where’s your watcher? The targets are on the move out the back. We’re blocked and need some eyeball backup.’

‘No problem.’ Ballatyne sounded unnaturally calm. ‘We’ve got a live map of the area on-screen. Make your way to the front. Bruce will be waiting for you. His controller will guide you from there. Out.’

Harry turned and ran through the building and down the stairs, with Rik hard on his heels. Going out of the front door, he remembered to put away his gun in time before coming under the curious gaze of the press pack.

The blue BMW was still there, the engine ticking over quietly. The chauffeur lifted a hand. ‘Tate and Ferris? Jump in and buckle up. The name’s Bruce.’

‘I’m Harry, he’s Rik.’

The BMW tore away from the kerb, narrowly missing a photographer being artistic outside the besieged embassy. As he came to the end of the road, Bruce hit a button on a central console, and a stream of radio chatter came out over the powerful hum of the engine.

‘Targets on foot. . could be heading for a multi-storey right behind. No, wait. Targets approaching dark saloon. . an Astra, in Pavilion Road. Getting in and heading south, south, along Pavilion. Stay on that heading.’

Harry was amazed. ‘You’ve got a helicopter up there?’

‘Good timing, huh? Your boss thought they might come out like rats from a burning barn. They cruised into position five minutes ago.’ He calmly steered the BMW through the narrow streets and locked onto the course provided by the controller’s commentary.

‘They’re going south,’ said Rik.

Bruce nodded. ‘Chelsea Bridge, I reckon.’ He squeezed through a gap between a builder’s lorry and a taxi, shifting skilfully through the gears and playing the brakes and accelerator for maximum effect. All the time he sat back as though in an armchair at home.

‘How do you know it’s them?’ Harry asked.

‘Your two subjects were in all night and they were using the Astra yesterday. It’s a hire car but we haven’t got the name yet.’

‘It’ll be false, anyway,’ said Rik.

‘Makes sense. They popped out earlier for breakfast. We didn’t have the resources for a full box surveillance, so I stayed on them all the time. Easy enough job, though.’

‘Just you?’ said Harry. He knew well that mounting a full, round-the-clock surveillance was very heavy on man-power and resources, but Ballatyne had said nothing about the level of commitment given to this operation.

‘Just me. There were no stops, no drops and no contacts. Can’t tell what they were doing once they were inside, of course. The tall one’s in charge and shorty’s the driver.’ He paused to listen as the controller gave an update feed on the Astra’s location. ‘This driver’s good, whoever he is. Very good. I don’t think he knows we’re on him yet, but if he gets a sniff of us, we might have a chase on our hands. He must know the ground pretty well.’

‘He doesn’t,’ said Harry. ‘As far as we know it’s their first time here.’

‘Really?’ Bruce was even more impressed. ‘Good thing we’ve got eyes in the sky, then.’

Harry wondered at his calm demeanour, and sensed he was happier chatting, even when concentrating. ‘Do you do this a lot?’

‘As much as I can.’ He grinned. ‘I used to drive interceptors with Essex Police, in Subaru Imprezas. Then I got a transfer to this lot. This is a lot more fun.’

‘Let’s hope it stays that way,’ Harry told him. ‘You know these two are armed, don’t you?’

‘So I noticed. Bad boys.’

‘Bad enough. How did you notice?’

‘The way they walked, the way they sat, holding one hand against their jackets. Classic signs when someone’s carrying.’

A burst of chatter interrupted to tell them that the speeding Astra had crossed the river and was heading towards the south-east. Moments later, it was crossing the A3, still heading in the same direction and using back streets which were less busy. Local police patrols were being warned to stay well clear and give the men in the Astra no reason to start shooting.

‘Where’s he going?’ Bruce mused aloud. ‘There’s Heathrow, Gatwick or the Channel — that’s all there is down this way, unless he’s got another hidey-hole.’

‘Blue One, the target’s picking up speed.’ The controller’s voice was cool, economical. ‘Estimates are he’s heading for Herne Hill, Dulwich and Catford areas, then further south.’

‘Why would he pick up speed?’ asked Rik. ‘He can’t see us.’

‘He doesn’t have to,’ said Bruce. ‘He knows we’re here.’ He accelerated again, whipping past a bus and two cars, slipping past a traffic island on the wrong side before slotting back onto the right side of the road. ‘The good ones have an instinct. If they’ve done this before, they pick up the signs somehow. Same as us when we see a suspect car; it doesn’t look right. Can’t tell you why, it just does. Nine times out of ten, we’re right. He might not even be trying to outrun us — he could be fixing to get some space between us so he can dump the car and walk away.’

Suddenly the controller uttered a mild curse. ‘ Signal’s going. . we’re losing pictures. Trying to recover. . Blue One, picture’s gone. . last seen target was slowing down, slowing down hard. Be ready to decamp .’

‘Why no picture?’ Bruce cried. ‘And why now?’

They were fast approaching a crossroads, with minimum traffic in sight. Then, just beyond it, they saw the Astra. It had almost stopped, and seemed to be idling in the centre of the road. They were now close enough to see two figures inside. Suddenly it sat back on its suspension and pulled away hard, blue smoke issuing from the exhaust.

‘He’s off,’ said Bruce. ‘Over to you. What do you want me to do?’

Harry considered the consequences. The longer this chase continued, the more likely it was that the Russians would either panic and start shooting, or they would get away. Without the overhead camera coverage, there were too many side roads the Astra could duck into, losing their pursuers in an instant.

‘Go for it,’ Harry said. He and Rik took out their weapons and did a quick check, then sat and waited for Bruce to find a suitable place to stop the Astra. This was his expertise and they were just along for the ride.

‘Hold onto your panties, girls,’ Bruce murmured, and tramped hard on the accelerator, sending the BMW streaking towards the traffic lights, which were green and clear. The row of houses and shops became a blur, and figures on the pavements seemed frozen in mid-step.

‘Look out right!’ Rik yelled a warning just as a dark shape loomed up on that side, filling the windows.