Invigorated, Dan stood up. ‘Right, that should get us a head start. We’re not giving in at this stage, even if our intended victim has given himself up. Any news on the phone tracking, Sam?’
Sam came back from his desk. ‘Sandra Eastman’s mobile was used about an hour and a half ago, in the Topsham area. Probably at home. And Allport must have his switched off. We’ve got nothing since last night. The gang may have destroyed it already, if they have him. Otherwise, we have to wait until he switches it on to track him. Sorry I haven’t got more, sir.’
‘No, that’s okay. The last call from Sandra’s phone could have been to Allport to tell him where to meet them. We need that location, fast. Find it, Sam.
‘Right, as Bill says, we need to be out there. So, let’s split into teams. Duncan, your lot will go in your usual vehicle, please. Sally, Lizzie and Adam together. Sam, Bill and me in the other vehicle, with your portable rig, Sam. Bring what you need, you can have the back seat to yourself. Ben, I need you in a van with as many PCs as you can bring in. I want paramedics on standby, too. Bring up a map of the coastline, Sam.’
He studied it. ‘The main thing is for us to get out of the station before we get stuck in the teatime rush hour, or we won’t be going anywhere fast. We need to be able to respond immediately to any sighting. I know, let’s rendezvous at Exeter Services at seventeen-thirty, we’ll be on the motorway and close to the main roads. It’s sixteen-twelve now, synchronise with me, please.’ He waited for DCS Oliver to finish her call, feeling the faint tingle of anticipation in the room. They weren’t total idiots. They could do this.
Oliver gave him a thumbs-up from the far side of the room. ‘Twenty minutes and they’ll be in the air,’ she said. ‘First sweep will go across Lyme Bay in a fast circuit, then slowly back up the coast from Lyme Regis round to Torquay. I’ll key them in to your radio frequency. Oh, and I’ll be up there too, keeping an eye on you. Good luck.’ She ran from the room.
Foster whooped. ‘Way to go, ma’am! Action at last,’ he said. ‘Sitting here doing nothing is killing me.’
Dan wanted to whoop as well, but he held steady. They could still be completely wrong about this. ‘Get ready; I want all of you in full protective gear. Sally, we’ll need night vision goggles for at least two people in each team. Everyone to have a radio – on the EX1 frequency. Okay, have a pee, grab a snack while you have a chance, and cancel your Saturday night plans. Let’s see if we can catch some murderers. I’ll see you in the car park at the services at seventeen-thirty.’
46
The air inside the pool car was steamy with takeaway coffee and the waft of warm Cornish pasties. Dan wiped his fingers on a paper napkin and sighed. That was good. He passed the remnants to Sam, sitting in the back, who took the rubbish to the nearest bin. Bill Larcombe tapped out a tune on the steering wheel and waved at Sally in the car next to him.
Dan’s phone buzzed. It was an unknown number. His heart gave a lurch. ‘Hellier?’ He let his shoulders drop as he listened, and said little except ‘understood’ and ‘yes’, and ended the call by stabbing at the screen and growling.
‘Bad news, boss?’
‘MI5 again.’
‘I knew they were tapping our office,’ shouted Larcombe. ‘I knew it. How could they know what we’re doing? How?’
‘Well, keep your hair on. It’s worse than that. They want us to detain Moore, but not arrest him, as they want to take him away for interrogation before we arrest him, and don’t want him, and I quote: “languishing in the prison system”. They are on their way, in a van this time, and want in on the take-down.’
‘It’s gonna be like bloody Piccadilly Circus, boss,’ Larcombe grumbled. ‘They’ll steal all our glory.’
‘That’s not all. They asked us to keep an eye out for Patrick O’Leary, known to us as Paddy, who disappeared from his accommodation early this morning. They didn’t see fit to tell us that he was also part of Allport’s team all those years ago. Or that he was also part of Moore’s team. I knew he was a snitch, but that’s all.’
‘Whoa, double agent! That could get very messy indeed,’ said Sam.
‘And exactly whose side is he on now, boss?’ asked Larcombe.
* * *
DCS Julie Oliver swallowed her fear. She’d never been up in a helicopter, and, although there was no way she would have turned down the opportunity, she hadn’t expected it to be so stomach-churning. This was a small, light, agile craft, meant for pursuit and detection, not a big, solid people carrier. The pilot skimmed across Lyme Bay as the day faded into a pink and grey streaked sunset. ‘Gorgeous,’ she shouted. The pilot grinned at her, and pointed towards the shoreline below them. Oliver stared hard at the beaches as they sped past. It had to be accessible, sheltered … and there it was. She pointed for the pilot. ‘Sandy Bay, look.’
The pilot nodded but didn’t change his direction. ‘Back to base, ma’am?’
‘No. Make a big circuit around the bay, far enough away that they can’t hear us, but close enough to get back if they need us.’ He nodded, and set off out across the water.
Oliver radioed the cars. ‘Got it! Back at Exmouth, Dan. Go to Sandy Bay for access to the far end of the beach. It’s further along from where the last fire was, sheltered by a bit of the cliff that sticks out towards the water, near Orcombe Point. Go through the caravan site and down onto the beach, but be careful, they will be able to see you coming in a vehicle. Have a patrol car block off the entrance in case they make a run for it. Keep me informed.’
She looked with dismay at the call waiting icon on her phone. MI5 again. Now what did they want?
* * *
Allport jogged towards Exmouth town centre. He was wearing earphones, a cap pulled down low over his face, and jogging clothes. His priority was Sandra. First, though, he needed to get the location sorted in his head. He swung in to the town, up onto The Beacon, past the houses of the rich and famous from the town’s history. He felt safer up away from the beaches and main roads. He had no idea where Moore was hiding out.
Moore had used Sandra’s phone to contact him, the bastard. It made him sick to think that the police had been so incompetent as to let her be captured. Did they have no idea at all who they were dealing with? That Detective Chief Inspector, he was young. What did Hellier know of the IRA? Of how far they would go to punish a man? Nothing. The poor girl would be terrified, if she was even alive.
He’d been told to be at the end of the promenade, seated on the metal bench overlooking the sea, by 5pm. There, Moore would exchange Sandra for him. She would be unhurt if Allport came alone and gave himself up willingly. That gave him an hour and a half to recce the position and work out a plan to rescue Sandra and himself. Of course, he could call the police, but he thought they’d just take him out of the action, and he wanted to watch Moore die out there, not waste away in prison.
He paused to let traffic pass, and then cut across onto Trefusis Terrace. He could follow the pedestrian pathway for a while yet. The main task was to take out the young man and woman. Once they were disabled, he could tackle Moore. But he had to get Sandra out first, and that was where his planning fell short. What if Moore had left her somewhere, and he killed Moore before he found out where? He coughed up phlegm and spat it into the bushes. No point thinking like that.
The path led down, past the back of The Maer – a wide expanse of sandy grassland that separated the houses from the sea. He was most vulnerable here, out in the open, so he spurred himself on across the field and up to the South-West coastal path. There, he stopped to drink some water and get his breath. They wouldn’t be expecting him to be up here, behind them, would they?
Slowly, now, Allport walked the path until there was a break in the greenery, and he could edge along treacherous, soft red sand to lie full-length and peer over the edge of the cliff. Below him, a hundred feet or more, the sea was retreating over hard-packed sand. Nothing down there. He shuffled backwards and checked his position. Orcombe Point wa
s a few hundred yards ahead. If the gang’s vehicle used the Sandy Bay ramp onto the beach, rather than the Exmouth end, they could be further round the bay and not where they had set the first fire. He jogged again, rounding the point and heading towards the campsite in the distance. Again, he found a place to crawl to the edge and look over the cliff. This time he did it right. There was a figure building a fire, tucked into a natural alcove in the cliff, a few hundred feet away. Invisible from the Exmouth side, because of the cliff walls, it was only really visible from the caravan site or at sea. Allport wormed his way closer to the crumbling edge and used his binoculars to get a better view.
The young guy was completing the building of a fire, with brush and thin saplings surrounding what looked like small-cut logs. It was a good fire. A good pyre, he thought, with a little space at one side to fit a body. Neat.
Taking stock, Allport realised he felt better now than he had in some time. At last there was a chance to end the horror of what had happened all those years ago; to make some reparation for the idiocy of Ongar, always full of himself, setting fire to the Irishman’s house. To silence the screams of the dying. And then to put to rest his own beloved little family, killed, of course, in the same way. An eye for an eye.
A quiet cough made him swing round, body tense and ready to fight, but it was Paddy, as expected. ‘Glad you could make it,’ he whispered.
‘Took me a bit of effort to get away, but I’m here. Want to see the bastard dead too. Hate loose ends. I thought I’d never find you, it’s a long path.’ He flopped down on the damp grass. ‘It’s not that long since I was up it, either.’
‘I didn’t know where they’d be, but peep over there and you’ll see the lad, Kegan, finishing off the fire.’
Paddy grinned, his newly cleaned teeth gleaming out of the darkness. ‘Yes, sir.’
Allport pointed Paddy towards the caravan site. ‘Right. Slip down the path into the caravan park, wait, and you sort Kegan out as soon as I get there. Then take the girl. I want Moore to myself.’
‘I didn’t know Moore had a granddaughter, sir.’
‘Neither did I, Paddy, but she takes after him - a cold murderer. So, keep walking that way, watch out for dog walkers. The caravan park is closed for the winter, but there’s a guard in the main building and you’ll see the light on. Straight down the path and onto the beach. The only place to hide is close up under the cliff, so try not to be seen.’
Paddy muttered, ‘Grandmother suck eggs,’ at him, and slipped away into the gloom.
Allport made his way back to the rendezvous point. With every step along the darkening path, he became more convinced that Moore was the devil himself. The girl worried him, too. Moore only had sons, he was sure of that.
He ran along the last few hundred metres of the cliff top walk, to overshoot the rendezvous point, then made his way back along the prom. There were several vehicles parked at the end. Some motorhomes had clearly come for the weekend and were parked up. Others were dog walkers, taking a last stroll before night set in.
He walked warily, not wanting to be grabbed before he could negotiate Sandra’s release. As he approached the final parked-up vehicle, a white van with writing on the side, the driver’s door opened and a large man got out. He was holding a gun.
Allport stopped on the pavement and watched the man and the gun. ‘Brendan,’ he said, ‘I’m unarmed. Let Sandra go and you can have me. I’m ready.’ He held out his hands to the side and stopped breathing when Tana edged up alongside him, checking out his clothing, staring all the while into his eyes like hers were lasers she could kill him with. The eyes. He knew those eyes. It couldn’t be, could it? Allport found himself shaking, and it wasn’t with fear.
‘He’s clean,’ Tana said, and gave Allport a little push. ‘Over here, now.’ She led him towards the rear of the van, where the back double-doors stood open, and he could see a drugged Sandra slumped on top of paint pots and a ladder.
Moore took a step to the rear and held the gun on him. ‘Pick her up.’
Allport reached in, picked up Sandra in his arms and waited, unable to take his eyes from the girl.
‘Over there,’ said Moore, indicating a metal bench. ‘Leave her on there, she’ll come round in a while and can go home. No harm done. See, we keep our word, you murderous bastard.’
Allport held Sandra close to him, breathed in her flowery scent, and felt sorry that she had become embroiled in all this because of him. He had to finish it tonight. He would. A surge of adrenaline shot through his body, making him stumble as he laid the comatose woman on the bench. He removed his lightweight jacket and placed it over her. Stay in control. Don’t do anything stupid here with all these civilians around. Don’t look at the girl, you can’t think about her yet. Paddy and I will do it as a team, in the quiet, like we used to. He stood back. ‘Where do you want me?’
Tana walked out onto the causeway, Allport followed her, with Moore bringing up the rear.
‘Walk round the beach,’ said Moore. ‘Keep going until I tell you to stop.’ Moore pushed Allport’s shoulder and they set off in a tight line. For Allport, the walk was short. He studied the girl’s walk, the shape of the back of her head. It couldn’t be. Even Moore would not do that. Not that. Not to a child.
They heard a helicopter approach from the east, flying low. Allport peered up but could only see its outline. He had a feeling they would have company soon, and picked up his pace behind the girl. It was time for Moore to die.
47
Dan rang ahead to the caravan site and arranged to have the gates opened. He deployed Ben Bennett and his team at the promenade end of the beach and told them to secure it. The cars rolled into the deserted caravan site and down, almost to the causeway, onto the beach. He gathered the teams together for a quick briefing, and none of them saw the slight figure, dressed all in black, slip down the causeway and onto the beach before them.
* * *
Team Two followed Duncan Lake and his team, keeping low and close to the cliff. Ahead of Dan, the fire was burning well and he had to keep a hold on the fear that they were already too late. His night vision goggles showed no movement, other than the flames, so he signalled the team forward once more. They came to a halt fifty metres from the fire. Dan waved them down. He crawled across to Lake. ‘The fire’s just burning on its own. Where are they? Wait, I can see Kegan.’
Lake shrugged. ‘They’re coming from the other side?’
His guess proved accurate. Dan flattened himself to the sand as Tana came round the promontory, leading Allport, with Moore at the rear, gun pointing at Allport’s head.
‘Kegan,’ hissed Tana. ‘Where are you?’
Kegan shot round from the other side of the fire. ‘I didn’t hear you over the crackling,’ he said. ‘So, you got him.’ Kegan picked up the rock he had chosen for the purpose and advanced on Allport.
‘Forget that,’ said Moore, shoving Kegan out of the way. ‘I’ll shoot the bastard and have done with it. He’ll still burn.’ He raised his gun as Allport viciously drove his elbow back and up into the older man’s throat. Moore doubled over, gasping, windpipe crushed. The gun slipped from his fingers onto the sand.
Tana screamed, and threw herself down, scrabbling for the gun and pointing it at Allport. ‘You bastard!’ she cried through her tears, and pulled the trigger. She missed by a mile.
Allport dropped to the ground, rolled, and came up next to her. He knocked the gun from Tana’s hand, forced her head down into the sand, and kicked her feet from under her. ‘Not going to happen,’ he muttered. He flipped her over, knelt on her back and tied her hands with a cable tie. ‘Stay there.’
Paddy came running out of the rock debris, twisted Moore’s arms behind him, secured them with a plastic tie, and laid him on his side to get a little air.
Kegan stared around him, dropped the rock, and ran.
‘Let him go,’ shouted Allport. Help me with Moore.’ They dragged Moore towards the cliff face, away from the f
ire.
Kegan headed along the beach towards the caravan site, straight into the arms of Lake’s men. He offered no resistance when one of them tripped him up and knocked him to the ground.
* * *
Dan signalled his team to follow, as Lake’s armed men ran in and surrounded the remaining four.
‘Stop! Lie face down on the ground,’ yelled Lake.
Tana struggled to her feet, arms pinned behind her. She edged towards the flames, bent double and ran for Allport. She headbutted him in the stomach, knocking him into the edge of the fire, yelling cries of triumph and pain as Allport’s screams of shock tore the air. ‘At last! I have him, Mammy. Burn, burn.’ She kicked at Allport’s feet.
Paddy didn’t hesitate: just as he had done all those years ago, he dragged his commander out of the fire, rolled him on the damp sand until the flames were out, and collapsed next to him, holding his burnt hands close to his body. ‘Jesus, but that hurts,’ he yelped.
Lake moved in quickly, removed the fallen gun and checked on Moore who was barely alive. He called for paramedics and asked Bennett’s team to come along from the promenade end. As soon as he gave the signal, Team Two moved in.
The sound of Tana’s uncontrolled keening when she saw that Allport was hardly burnt at all was hard to hear. Left alone for just a moment, she took her chance and threw herself backwards into the fire. Dan reacted without thinking. He ran and dragged her from the terrible heat, feeling the hairs on his arms frizzle and smelling her long hair burning. He did what Paddy had done for Allport and rolled her on the wet sand until the flames were out. Her head was a mess. He shivered. The gloves and Kevlar had protected most of him, but he still hated fire – more than ever.
‘Let me go. I’ll burn. I’ll burn,’ Tana sobbed, writhing and kicking as Lake’s officers cut the plastic ties and strapped her onto a portable stretcher. ‘Granddaddy,’ she cried through her blackened, blistered mouth, writhing and bucking under the restraints.
Death on the Coast Page 25
