Richard Wiseman - To Kill Or Be Killed

Cobb smiled. He punched the pin number into the receptor praying for the girl’s sake that the card hadn’t been cancelled.

Luckily for Cobb the drunk he had robbed in the room next to his back at the hotel hadn’t cancelled the card. That morning after being woken by armed police at the hotel the muzzy headed lad had taken a shower, got dressed and was just finishing breakfast at the hotel as Cobb used his card. The unlucky hotel guest was regaling his mates with his possible near death experience and how he would have handled the armed killer. His friends joked about his car being filled full of holes and he was horrified to recall his laptop being in the boot. It was only hours later, when he needed to check out of the hotel that he remembered, with embarrassment, that he didn’t have his card. His friends paid for him with the thought that there’s one born every minute and Cobb had the same thought as the girl thanked him and bagged the items, giving him the receipt.

“Could I change into these now? I have a…” Cobb paused for effect “… date and I wanted to wear them.”

“Yes that’s fine the changers are over there.”

Cobb walked casually to the changing room, pulled the curtain across and began his transformation.

Once in the Vision Express store Jaz had pulled out her pass and angled her arm so that the underarm holster and shiny black Sig showed a little. She ‘tagged’ a shop assistant and held up the sketch of Cobb.

“Have you seen this man?”

The girl looked at the pass, noted the gun and stared back at the picture.

“Yes he was in here about ten minutes ago. He was looking at frames. Is he dangerous?” The assistant who had put the frames back wandered over.

“Is this about the shoplifter?” He asked.

Jaz stared hard at the boy. “Shoplifter?” She exclaimed.

“Yes.” He looked at the picture. “I saw that guy trying frames. Anyway he left them in a mess and when I went back to put them on the rack there was a frame missing.”

“Thank you.” Jaz joined Shadz and Tony outside. Tony was holding his cell phone.

“Local police are in the CCTV security booth watching for him.”

The phone rang.

“Yeah?” He listened, nodded and flipped the phone shut and turned to Jaz and Shadz. “River Island, don’t pull weapons in the store. Just wait.”

“He’s got glasses.” Jaz spoke as they half jogged across the mall.

“Glasses huh? Disguises. Damn.”

Cobb came out of River Island unnoticed by CCTV watchers and made his way to the front exit. In the changing booth his rucksack, packed with the old clothes sat waiting. Two metres from the front exit he noticed the armed police. He took out the drunk’s cell phone.

“Is that the police? Yes I’d like to report a bomb in the Arndale Centre. River Island changing rooms, you have three minutes.”

Cobb shut the phone, dropped it in a bin near the door and walked past the armed police, all of whom were checking for a man in a black coat with a shaved head.

Too late Shadz, waiting outside River Island, called the Inspector and suggested a change of clothes and some glasses and even then they wouldn’t have thought he’d have long blonde curls.

As Tony and Jaz pushed their way to the pay desk showing badges, the fire alarm sounded and Tony’s phone rang.

“Yeah, well damn it get people out, but we’re staying here.” Tony argued.

The voice on the other end, the Chief Inspector’s, was so loud it could be heard from the phone’s tiny speaker. Tony winced.

“We have to get out. Someone phoned from a cell phone and said there’s a bomb in this store.” Tony said ruefully.

“Where?” Jaz asked.

“The changing rooms of River Island.” Tony said.

“It’s Cobb. He’s changed and left his bag!” Jaz replied.

“Regardless he could have explosives. We have to get out.” Tony said with urgency.

They joined Shadz outside the shop and began speed walking to the exits.

“He’s a clever one, very slippery customer!” Shadz said almost gleefully.

“A bold one too.” Tony said harshly.

“Not so smart though we know where he’s headed and Manchester wasn’t a scheduled stop. The hotel suggests the airport and the road routes out would need a car. With every copper in the city on alert he won’t steal a car and rentals are traceable so he’ll want the quick way out. He must have used the internet to find his way round and that means he’ll have booked a car or a flight or train online, meaning he used a card.” Jaz spoke quickly and breathlessly as they headed for the exit.

“Brilliant.” Shadz exclaimed.

“My money’s on flight.” Tony said.

“Mine too.” Jaz added.

“Let’s get to the airport, sit in their security centre and check all of today’s bookings.” Shadz grinned. “Plus we call these guys pull some muscle and find out which card he used.”

“Very clever Shadz but we don’t need to. Find out the name of the guy who was robbed at the hotel. Five quid says the dumbo hasn’t cancelled the card yet.” Jaz said grinning.

As they made their way to the exit the building was nearly clear and when they got to the exit doors bomb squad officers rushed past them.

“My God I hope hasn’t really got explosives! Suppose this place is the target?” Tony said looking at the crowds exiting the shopping centre.

London

9 – 30 a.m.

April 18th

Mason’s train journey had been a pleasant affair. The April rain was holding off and a mild sunshine was brushing the Hertfordshire landscape with light spring strokes. His view from the window slipped over the jigsaw of fields with neat hedge edges and the trees so recently furnished with leaves, having for the last two days drank in the rain were greedily absorbing the least rays of light.

Mason’s eyes wandered over the commuter crowds, a healthy and unhealthy range of every type, all shot arrow like into London’s heart. At times he envied such mundane existences, but knew his adventurous soul would break free of such a treadmill within months of joining it. An attractive office girl, well made up, pristine, scent of perfume cutting through the musty dry cleaner smell of surrounding suits, caught his eye. He glanced three or four times, drinking in the highlighted honey and chestnut hair, the heavy push of breasts against the buttoned suit jacket and the neat line curve of her lower leg beyond the edge of her skirt.

His mind turned to army days and job or no job he was due some rest and recreation time. The three word contact information, ‘Priory Arms Vauxhall’, fixed in his head could wait until tomorrow. Spencer was dead. Mason hadn’t liked the sneaky ex secret serviceman and had given him a wide berth on the cramped submarine. Stanton he knew had escaped, but surely must be trapped in Glasgow, given the tightness of the net surrounding him and Wheeler, as much as he knew then, was in the same position. Surely even Cobb, given the high media profile of his murders must have gone to ground, if not have quite a numerous task force dedicated to his capture. No even then as he thought of it he must be the first into London.

His train of thought led him to the person who had set up this ‘race’ to London. They had got themselves a team of top assassins, got them onto a British Navy Submarine and inserted them at the other end of the country. Mason ran through the facts he knew. They’d been picked up pretty soon after entry which meant someone had been watching out, either waiting for them or just out of habit. Security services had either been alerted or there was a system he was unaware of for tracking people through CCTV. Certainly it smacked of out and out government dirty tricks. Whoever wanted this job done knew the risks. He knew he’d have to watch himself. The buyer wasn’t one to get themselves exposed by the likes of him and though once in the ‘pipeline’ for the job he knew he’d still be regarded as dispensable. He tried to lighten his thoughts. He was a man of action and too much thought dulled the reactions and the willingness to act.