Richard Wiseman - To Kill Or Be Killed

Euston Tower

11- 30 a.m.

April 17th

After some intense and concentrated research and careful access to restricted sites Beaumont was first with the information on Special Forces activities that day.

“Well there were only two special forces exercises in the UK this week. The SAS were in Scotland and they were around the Kyle of Lochalsh, but they were dropped by helicopter, not submarine. The other was the marine commandos, but that was a swim in to the Cornwall coast, but they used a corvette class out of Plymouth, so that rules out the submarine drop off being MOD exercises.”

“Well decrypted MOD navy site reveals HM submarine HMS Vengeance passing Port an-eorna at that time in the morning heading for the polar cap.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but there’s no mention of the stop and surface there.”

“Where did the sub come from?”

“Well she had been on NATO exercises in the Atlantic, coming up from Southern US base. That was before leaving the naval sub base on the Clyde two months ago. So she must have picked up the passengers in the US.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Two weeks.”

“So our four were put aboard two weeks ago, stayed on for the Atlantic exercises and were dropped of en route.”

McKie nodded a slow deliberate and grave nod.

“That would mean that they’d have to have top secret clearance to be on the submarine. That comes from a high level. Whoever got them on there is MOD or government then.”

“Or at least has the power and clout to bypass the usual channels.”

The phone rang cutting in on their thinking. McKie answered it. It was Jack Fulton and he wasn’t happy.

“Glasgow police lost the Wheeler, he got away, so we can forget sending a team for now. What have you managed to unearth.”

McKie outlined their research and deductions then asked. "Could all this be down to that Nigel Sternway?”

“Yes it could. It could be any one of ten different people we’re aware of.”

“What’s our next move?”

“We watch those ten. I’ll send duty teams out to our hit list with mobile tracking and listening equipment, gun mikes and other sensitive stuff. “

Beaumont silently mouthed “What about us?”

McKie relayed the question.

“You two keep looking and thinking. See if you can work out possible routes and contact DIC watchers on the routes you work out. I’ll have the Glasgow watchers keep an eye out for Wheeler and make sure they go armed. If he’s dragged back into the net I’ll send a team to interview him, other than that get on with the brain work.”

“Right okay then.” McKie sounded disappointed and Jack picked up on the tone of his voice, smiling to himself in his office.

“Don’t be like that David. I’m inclined to send you two when we get a fix on Wheeler or any one of the others, liaising with armed police of course.” Jack hung up and David related Jack’s remarks.

“Oh great.” Beaumont ran a hand through his grey hair. “First intruder is ours then lucky us!”

“It’s okay they’ll have armed police on hand we won’t be alone.”

There was a moment’s silence.

“I thought you didn’t want the chance to use that gun.” Beaumont said.

“I’m feeling more Brie than cheddar right now. Anyway like I said armed police will be there first and in the meantime we’d better work on the possible routes.”

Beaumont smiled.

“Okay Mr keen let’s get a cup of tea and bring up some online map software. We can start with the one who got to Inverness by rail. What was his name?”

“Peter Mason, ex infantry and SAS man.”

“Okay let’s work out his possible routes.”

The Mersey Marina

11- 45 a.m.

April 17th

Charlie Cobb made the mouth of the Mersey, a little before lunch time. The call to Mersey Radio on VHF channel 12 had him waiting for river traffic then crawling past the Liver Buildings; he thought of the legend of the birds keeping watch, one out to sea and one inland. He wondered who else was watching. He passed the Albert Dock and cleared the Brunswick Lock making the Marina with some struggles, especially with banks and tides.

The berth had been pre-booked in a different name to Jake Howard and Cobb had to make sure that he got out the right set of fake documents. He cleared the paperwork easily when the young watch man came out to the boat to greet him. The young watch man was incurious and keen to be indoors out of the niggling April drizzle.

Cobb noted the CCTV camera on a pole in the centre of the marina and decided the controls would be in the marina office. He opened his rucksack took out a tube of superglue and popped it into his pocket with the lid off. He wrapped a scarf around his face and pulled his hood up and thanked the weather for the excuse of muffling is face.

Covering his head with a hood and his face with a scarf he walked quickly to the office, passing through the punch key gate. In the office it was dry and bright. Cobb looked around the room. There was a chart cabinet dead opposite a desk where two screens showed the images of two cameras. He noted that they turned when needed by way of a lever control. One watched the boats and the other watched the approach and office. Cobb didn’t want his presence recorded. Cobb noted that he could see the office behind the desk in the reflection of the window.

“You haven’t got a lower west coast chart I could have a look at have you?”

“You haven’t got one?”

“Unscheduled stop I’m afraid. I wasn’t going to go that far south, but I’m not sure yet”

“I’ve got one you can look at, but don’t take it away.”

The young watch man went to a filing cabinet. The moment his back was turned, Cobb moved the approach camera away from the office then moved the marina waters camera away from his boat to the other side of the marina. He took the super glue from his pocket and squeezed it into the ball socket and turned just in time, popping the glue quickly back in his coat pocket.

The young watch man put the chart on a nearby pin board as he did so Cobb glanced back at the control to see if the glue was visible or if he had left a trace from squeezing it into the gap. There was a bare trace, but nothing significant or noticeable. He made a show of looking at the map and noted some features. He liked the idea of Bristol as an entry to land if he went further by boat.

He thanked the watch man and walked back to his boat sure in the knowledge that the cameras wouldn’t record his presence there. He didn’t know how vital for his continued journey it was. He had sought to prevent a record of his presence, not knowing that the cameras were being watched by people close by.

Deciding not to go out Charlie settled exhausted into a bunk after cooking a well earned and heartily greasy fry up. He lay on his bunk smoking a lucky. The trip hadn’t been easy, but to his mind it had kept him away from people. He wasn’t sure whether to take the little boat further down the coast. If he did do that he’d have to be out of the Marina by five latest and there was a narrow window on the tide directions. He decided to get some sleep first and look at the charts and tides on waking. He dug in his bag and set a small digital alarm for three-thirty pm. It was warm and humid in the cabin from the cooking and Charlie slumped into a deep sleep, the memory of the cold Atlantic water and the dark land looming in his dreams.

Inverness

12 – 30 p.m.

April 17th

Stanton threaded the van through busy Inverness streets and into a pay and display car park on Strothers Lane, near the railway station. He checked for cameras as he drove in and before getting out of the van he searched the van for change. In the glove box there was two pounds forty-three in change. He strolled casually across to the machine put enough in for an hour and a half and went to find himself a place to eat. It was getting on for lunch and he had a yearning for pasta, besides, he had to see if the card worked and no better place or time than a restaurant.