Richard Wiseman - To Kill Or Be Killed

Tony laughed harshly.

“My god these guys are good. Some front he’s got using Wally’s pass. He must have got a wig.”

“Wigs Up North is best. My uncle got his there.” They all looked at a big build armed policeman at the back of the room.

“I bet it’s near Gun Street right.”

“That’s right Reddenhill Road.”

Tony shook his head again and again. Shadz walked in looking grim.

“Jack is not happy. We’re booked on the next flight to Gatwick, which by the way is on full alert. The pilot knows he has an armed assassin on the plane and they’re ready for anything.”

“When’s our flight?”

“Half an hour and we have to check in early. Weapons and technical stuff to go in the hold by the way”

“Okay let’s go.”

When they had left the security chief looked at the policeman.

“Who the hell are DIC?”

“I’ve never heard of them?”

“I checked with the home office and they said they’re top level secret wouldn’t say any more about it.”

“Well they aren’t that good I mean they cocked this right up.”

“You certain they did?”

“Well they didn’t check to see if their dead operative’s pass was missing did they?”

“Good thinking. Hopefully that puts us in the clear if he hijacks the plane.”

“You think he will?”

“Well he must know they’ll be waiting at Gatwick for him. What’s he going to do jump out over the Midlands?”

Glasgow

10-30 a.m.

April 18th

Wheeler avoided the shopping centres and went down market. Cash shops mostly, stacks of jeans, cheap sweaters and cheerful, thick socks and clean pants. He bought a razor, deodorant, soap and a towel in a pound shop and left the assistant thinking that he’d rarely seen anyone more in need of the items.

It was ten thirty when with a handful of plastic bags he got on a bus and headed back to Buchanon bus station. He checked the time and went to the toilets. He put the pants, socks, jeans and the old boots on in a cubicle. It wasn’t an unknown sight for down and outs to wash there. One or two patrons gave him looks as he washed and shaved at the sink. In the last ten minutes he was alone drying himself and putting on the new clothes. His bus was due to leave twenty minutes later.

Glasgow

10 – 40 a.m.

April 18th

David and Beaumont had dumped their rucksacks on each of the single beds in a twin room of the Glasgow Thistle hotel on Cambridge Street.

Both were tired. They'd picked up their car at Glasgow airport and made their way to the hotel. The airport was twenty odd miles outside the city centre and once in the city the traffic had been thick and David didn’t like driving. He took four wrong turns and lost them some time. After check in they’d ordered hot drinks and made their way to the rooms. Neither of them was in a good mood, the night before catching up on them and Beaumont was in a worse mood because of David’s driving.

A knock at the door signalled room service coffee and in Beaumont’s case a slice of chocolate cake.

“Get that David. I’m going to log on.” Beaumont sat at the standard hotel room writing desk, his laptop on the blotter. The start up sequence began and he plugged the cell phone in. At the door David took the tray and thanked the porter.

“Do you ever stop eating?”

“No, but what worries me at the moment is that I’ve not been working out.”

David put the coffee and cake on the table and walked to the window.

“They’re out there somewhere.”

“Hopefully we’ll have a sighting in a minute.” Beaumont said, logged onto the system and sipped his coffee. With no hand free he eyed the cake with anticipation.

“My father lives in Motherwell. I told my wife I might drop by. If we have a moment could we take a drive out there?”

Beaumont slammed the laptop shut and pulled his Sig out and checked the status; he cocked it and put the safety on.

“We’re taking a ride now. Wheeler’s been spotted at the Buchanon Bus station, it was around eight am, but Lawton the spotter said he’d keep watching.”

David pulled out his phone and tried to call the armed police on the way to the lifts, but he lost signal as the phone rang and they entered the lift.

In the lift Beaumont looked at him.

“I’m driving.” Beaumont said flatly.

“Okay.”

“My God David I can’t see why you got so flustered over driving.”

“It’s my weak spot. Everyone’s got a weak spot.”

“I haven’t.” Beaumont replied.

“Yes you have. It’s food. I bet you’re thinking of that cake in the room.”

“Okay, but being constantly hungry is manly. Being a crap driver that’s… well it’s…”

“What?” The lift opened onto the lobby.

“Bizarre in a man like you that’s all.” Beaumont replied.

They were quickly in the car and on their way to the bus station. David rang the police again and finally got through. It was hard making himself understood. The conversation halted when he was finally put on hold waiting to talk to armed response.

“You know where it is?” David asked.

“Yes I do. Five minutes away. I checked.”

“Do you think he’s still there?” David asked.

“The e-mail was after nine this morning and Lawton the local DIC spotter said Wheeler got there after eight fifteen, then left; he says the next London bus is eleven. You could check your laptop for an update see if he’s come back.”

“I didn’t bring it.”

“Damn it David. Are you awake today?” Beaumont said angrily.

“I’m okay, a little shaken by last night that’s all.”

“It’s not amateur night David. We’re after hired killers now focus.”

Armed response answered the phone and Beaumont turned onto Killermont Street, the bus station was mere yards away.

David got out of the car first. The Bus station was busy and they were illegally parked. Beaumont joined him.

“Did you check your gun this morning?”

David shook his head.

“Well you had better find a quiet spot to do it, don’t want to scare the natives. Nip into the toilet and use a cubicle.”

They began walking for the toilets together they were nearly there when Beaumont stopped and looked over at the National Express coach.

“That’ll be his target vehicle. I’ll wait here and watch.”

David walked into the toilet, pushing back the heavy door to find all the cubicles busy. Suddenly there was a man just coming out of a cubicle. David took in the lines of the face as the man passed him, it didn’t quite look like Wheeler. He thought himself edgy, shrugged and pushed the door open on the cubicle that the man had just left. He saw the white bag with the abandoned clothes, but straight away it was the glasses, dimly visible, but pressed against the plastic, that did it for him. Anyone might change clothes, buts no-one left their glasses behind. He rushed back to the door and outside drawing his Sig as he came out.

Wheeler was walking towards the National Express coach and was just level with Beaumont.

“Stay where you are Wheeler! Beaumont it’s Wheeler!” David shouted.

Beaumont spun round trying to draw his weapon, but Wheeler was too close. Wheeler gripped the gun hand just as the Sig cleared the holster and pressed it to Beaumont’s chest. David daren’t shoot with them both in such a tangle and daren’t get close to help as he wanted to back Beaumont up with a clear shot if needed.

There was a muffled crack and Beaumont’s face creased in pain, legs giving way and folding under him he dropped to the floor, Wheeler pulling the gun from his grip as he did so. There were screams and shouts from bus passengers and in the noise David heard sirens approaching.