Richard Wiseman - To Kill Or Be Killed

Diane sent out alerts, the west coast DIC were to watch, coast guard had been alerted and Stanton, Mason and Cobb were to be stopped and questioned, but if it came to an armed showdown, as the lat two incidents indicated it probably would, DIC were to shoot first and shoot to kill. The three men were to be stopped at all costs. Diane’s report ended with the remark that the hit had to be worth a million which meant it was a high rank target and hard to achieve.

David logged off and heading for the loft hatch was struck by the thought that Stanton was heading along the coast. He wondered where he would land. He gave the gun cabinet a friendly tap as he passed, remembering that the weapon in there had saved his life and ended the existence of a poisonous reptile of a man.

Mary was in bed when he came down. He looked in on Connor and finally folded himself into bed next to Mary. Her body was hot, lying on her back, the heavy womb rising and falling with her breathing. David inched beside her and felt her warmth. He fell asleep with his hand on the bump, not woken by the tiny night kicks of his unborn child.

London Henry’s Bar

8 – 30 p.m.

April 18th

Mason had pulled a neat trick with the taxi. He’d had go down the Edgware Road, onto Park Lane and into Piccadilly, where he got out and walked towards the nearest tube stop. He picked out Henry’s Cafe Bar, right by Green Park Tube Station. He took a place at the long wooden bar between the two large cream coloured pillars and waited for the bar man. He ordered a ‘Screwdriver’, took his time over it and watched the door. When the first drink was down he popped to the toilet. In the cubicle he looked at the Sig 220 he had tucked in the back of his trousers. It wasn’t the weapon issued to secret service that much he knew. It was a neat enough hand gun. He wondered whether to dump it or keep it. Instinct told him to hang on to the weapon, someone was on his trail and he knew he’d better be ready for them.

The DIC machine had tracked down the taxi. It took them half an hour to get the taxi firm to confirm by radio. Jaz was at the hospital with Shadz, but the rest of the teams were pulled out of the Baker Street area and pushed on to Piccadilly. They took the street from both ends and swept down, bar and cafe, open building at a time. The CCTV for the street was being keenly watched and the previous hour’s footage being visually combed as the teams on the ground swept on.

Mason ordered a second ‘Screwdriver’ and thought about the tube and the CCTV cameras. A man sat down at the bar next to him, taking off a trilby hat, ruby silk scarf and green trench coat first. He had mid length floppy grey hair, a pinstripe suit and waistcoat. He looked through half moon glasses at Mason and ordered a bottle of champagne, loudly proclaiming the imminent arrival of his crowd of friends and his need for the lavatory. The man walked away, the barman had his back turned and Mason saw his chance. He took the hat, scarf and coat, resting on the stool, got up and walked out. He placed the hat on his head, swung the coat on and slipped the scarf dashingly around his neck. He passed a crowd at the door, young lawyers by the look of them, two or three glanced at him, recognising first the hat and coat, then looking away when his face didn’t fit.

It was a short distance to Green Park tube station. He pulled the hat brim down and descended. He took the Victoria line to Euston then switched to the Northern Line to Camden Town.

The Underworld night club was opposite the tube station. He popped across the road and walked straight in through the bright blue doorway and paid his dues in the stolen cash.

It was early, but a crowd was gathering. He’d dropped his chasers for sure. He noted that band called the Falconers was live that night and was amused by the early smattering of Goth styled revellers. There was black leather, fish nets, dark hair and heavy eye make up. It was going to be interesting seeing how Aliesha dressed, unless of course she’d been winding him up. He couldn’t see himself scoring at this gig unless she did turn up. He ordered a beer and sat in the bar. Loud heavy metal came from further into the building.

He was on his third beer when a perfumed arm curled around his neck and Aliesha’s voice alcohol slurred his false name.

“Hi Marc. You took the hint.”

Mason turned on his stool and was delighted at the sight. She wore a lace up black Basque, layers of black net skirt and leather boots. Her hair was spiked and her eye make up was heavy. The crowd with her were disappointed.

A tall twenty something lad, thin and dressed head to foot in black and clearly jealous spoke first.

“Invite your uncle ‘Leash’?”

He withered under Mason’s stare. A plump girl not quite carrying off the wan look and for all the world looking like a satanic meringue picked up the hat.

“Very dandy!”

Aliesha put her head to one side.

“Why the hat?”

“Stolen disguise…” Mason shrugged.

“Don’t say you’re a secret agent?” They all laughed.

“You didn’t fall for that line ‘Leash’?” The thin lad said.

Mason was rescued by the sound of Falconer’s ‘Man Of The Hour’ pumping from the stage room. The gang rushed off and Aliesha grabbed his hand and pulled him.

“Come on the music’s great.”

“I don’t dance.”

“Neither do I, but it’s dark in there and music turns me on.”

“Well why didn’t you say?” He dropped off the stool and followed her in.

The wall of noise hit them and ‘Leash’ dragged him into a dark corner. She was a little drunk, but knew what she was doing. Her hands ran down his back and stopped. Her kiss broke off and her eyes wide and sober stared into his. The music pounded on. He gripped her around the waist and spun her to the wall, bent in and shouted in her ear.

“Yes it’s a gun. I’m a bad man ‘Leash’. Still want to play?”

The answering smile and tongue into the mouth kiss told him all he needed to know. The dark side, girl’s loved a bad boy, thought they could tame them and she had sensed his danger and flew to it moth like. It only remained to be seen how ‘burnt’ she’d be by the end of the night. If she’d passed off the gun that quickly she was already ‘blind’.

At DIC centre in Euston Diane Peters, sitting in Jack Fulton’s office, sipped a late night coffee, which she needed, but knew she shouldn’t be drinking. Mason had dropped off the map again. She checked traffic, multi-screen on his computer and banner information feed showing nothing as the teams converged near the Green Park tube station.

The phone rang and she set it to speaker phone.

“Diane, get the teams looking for a hat and trench coat on the tubes from Green Park in the last hour.”

“Will do.”

After two songs, music he couldn’t stand, to escape the noise and give ‘Leash’ a chance to breathe Mason took her to the bar for a drink and saw a look of quizzical comprehension and recognition pass over the barman’s face when Mason ordered their drinks. Behind him on the side, near the raised bar access Mason saw the red top of The Sun newspaper. It was a quick click in his mind to the conclusion he was about to be grassed up.

“We have to go now.” Mason said with sudden harshness.

“What? The night is young, I want a drink.”

“Then I have to go now, you stay.” He was abrupt and business like.

Aliesha caught the tone in his voice.

“Okay. Back to my place, a movie and a pizza?”

“Fine which way?”

“It’s on Fortress Road at the top of Kentish Town Road, maybe two miles away.”

“Meet me out front I’ll rustle up some transport.”