Assassin 3 - The Wrong Man (Assassin Series)

by Bryan Murray

  CHAPTER 10

  Within seconds of Jake and Sarah leaving Jake Senior’s place, the two black SUV’s screeched to a halt outside and Special Branch personnel quickly surrounded the house as the Team Leader knocked on the door, standing back in case somebody shot through the door.

  “Open up, this is the police!” he screamed. “Throw out your firearms now!”

  Nothing happened for a few seconds and as the Team Leader was about to bang on the door again, the door opened slowly and Jake Sr. stood there, an innocent look on his face. “What’s the problem, officer?” he asked.

  “Are you Mr. Donovan, sir?” The Team Leader asked.

  “Yes, what can I do for you?” Jake Sr. replied.

  “We need to search your home, sir.”

  Jake Sr. was playing it coy as the armed officers were already rushing past him. Stephen and Winnie had gone out shopping. “Search for what?” he asked.

  The Team Leader was losing patience. “You can stop acting like you don’t know what’s going on, Mr. Donovan. Everyone’s seen the news and it’s your grandson we’re looking for. We know he’s armed and dangerous, so if you want to go to jail for obstructing justice, keep acting like a dumb twit!”

  Every second Jake Sr. could delay these guys, was a second further away from them that Jake and Sarah would manage to escape. He started to cooperate. “If you want the truth, young man, I’ve been feeling ill today, I just buried my wife of fifty six years and I just got up from my bed. I haven’t been watching TV, what the heck’s going on and what has this to do with my grandson?”

  The Team Leader was still angry. “If I find you’re lying, old man, we’ll throw the book at you. Now, where is he?” his men had already searched the house, guns at the ready as they returned downstairs nodding negatively at the Team Leader.

  Jake Sr. took his time to answer. “I think he said he would go sightseeing in the Cotswolds. But you still haven’t told me what’s going on?”

  “There was an assassination attempt on Her Majesty the Queen earlier today and your grandson has been identified as one of the gunmen!”

  Jake Sr. looked shocked. “You’re joking! The Queen? You said an attempt, does that mean it failed?”

  “Of course!” The Team Leader replied.

  “Thank God for that!” Jake Sr. gave a huge sigh of relief. “But, you’re not seriously trying to tell me my grandson was involved?”

  The Team Leader had lost patience with Jake Sr. “Look, we have his photo on file, the bloody weapon in his hand, so listen carefully, old man, if you value your government pension, the second your grandson returns, you’d better be calling to turn him in, understand?”

  Jake nodded as the Team Leader gave him his card and waved to his men to leave. After they had gone, Winnie and Stephen returned from shopping a few minutes later and Jake Sr. explained to them what had happened. Winnie was distraught. “This is ridiculous, father. There’s no way that Jake would do anything like that!”

  Jake Sr. nodded. “You know this, I know this, but the way these security forces work, you are guilty until proven innocent, believe me, so all we can do for now is try and buy these two as much time as possible until Jake can figure out what the heck is going on!”

  Winnie nodded. “You’re right, love.”

  Jake Sr. a savvy, old hand at political subterfuge, had already got one thing figured out as he turned to Winnie. “One thing’s for darned sure, love, the boy’s been set up and now he has to figure out why.”

  * * *

  Back in his office, Hargreaves received a call from the Team Leader advising that they drew a blank at Jake’s grandfather’s house. Hargreaves thanked him for the message. “Thanks for the update, keep the road blocks in place,” he rang off and turned to Hugh Strickland. “Put a man on watching the grandfather’s place 24/7 and make sure they let us know the moment anything shows. Put a tail on the old man every time he leaves as well.”

  “Will do.” Strickland replied

  * * *

  The media frenzy following the attempt on the Queen’s life was already a world event with news crews from around the world converging on Tewkesbury. The picture of the hospital was in every tabloid and TV video bite together with pictures of both Jake and Sarah, as if they were World Public Enemies One and Two! The story was running virtually non-stop on the main UK TV channels

  Nobody was even close to giving them the benefit of the doubt and every news channel and radio station had them as good as convicted with no mercy being the clarion call of the day.

  Over in Tel Aviv, Israel, where Sarah’s family were located, with the exception of her parents who were living in Connecticut, the entire family were in a state of shock. Even the Israeli Prime Minister, David Mischner and his staff were in disbelief, since it had only been a matter of weeks earlier that both Jake and Sarah had spearheaded the hunt and apprehension of a group of Neo-Nazi terrorists who were trying to bring down the Israeli economy.

  Mischner was discussing the news with his Defense Minister Eli Levin. The latter had taken over from Sarah’s uncle, Ari Golchen, a kindly, elder statesman, who had been assassinated by the same Neo-Nazi group.

  “This is so strange,” Mischner began. “Why on earth would two people who risked their lives to help solve our problem, suddenly try to assassinate Queen Elizabeth, for goodness sakes?”

  Levin nodded in agreement. “Something’s going on here, Prime Minister, but I can tell you one thing, those two can take care of themselves and they certainly won’t go down without a fight!”

  “I agree,” Mischner replied. “So, let’s monitor the situation.”

  “Of course, Prime Minister.” Levin replied.

  * * *

  In a similar shocked meeting inside the White House, President Parker had called an emergency meeting of his Chief of Staff, John Maloney with Senator Johnson as well as David Rathbone, the Director of the CIA with his deputy John Handforth and also with Steve Mobley the Head of the FBI and his assistant Peter Davies, Sarah’s former boss.

  Parker opened the meeting. “Well, gentlemen, to say the latest news from the UK is disturbing is an understatement, Disturbing in that I find it hard to believe that the two former agents who did such an excellent job in both stopping the illegal arms shipment to Dubai and also bringing the Neo-Nazis to justice in Israel, would even be remotely involved in trying to assassinate the Queen of all people!”

  Senator Johnson, white-haired in his 60’s was in agreement. “I agree entirely, Mr. President. Something is not right here. Surely the Brits must be wrong!”

  Parker nodded. “That’s what I thought, Senator but then the Brits show a picture of Harrigan at the attack scene with an automatic pistol in his hand and the dead body of the woman meeting the Queen, lying on the ground!”

  Up to this point, neither the CIA nor the FBI had commented as Parker continued. “I also find it totally disturbing and embarrassing to see the world media linking the CIA and FBI to the attempted assassination, merely as a result of the previous employment of the two fugitives. I need comments, gentlemen as I am scheduled to talk to a totally pissed off British Prime Minister in two hours?”

  Steve Mobley of the FBI, slim, a crew-cut in his 50’s, was the first to respond, obviously trying to defend his own bureau. “I agree this is most disturbing, Mr. President, but I would also point out that former Agent Schaumberg was not directly implicated at the attack scene in that she was implicated more by association as she merely accompanied Harrigan to the UK for the funeral of his grandmother.”

  Parker was not letting him off the hook that easily. “Guilty by direct or indirect association notwithstanding, Director Mobley, that doesn’t alter the fact that every goddamned news source on the planet is treating both these people as lethal US assassins,” he turned to the CIA. “And what do you suggest I say to the British PM, Director Rathbone?”

  Rathbone, in his sixties, thin with greying hair was quietly seething that the FBI were trying to
wiggle out of the direct focus of the current media frenzy. “We’re also shocked, Mr. President,” he replied. “And we would not have expected to see anything like this connected to former Agent Harrigan and I do emphasize the word ‘former’. Harrigan has not been employed by the Agency for over a year now and we have no details whatsoever of what clandestine or otherwise potentially dangerous ventures he may have subsequently been involved in.”

  Parker was quite critical of his Agency and Bureau chiefs. “Not much to go on, gentlemen, with the exception that you are both trying to cover your asses. It looks like I will have to gauge the tone of the meeting as we go. Thank you, that will be all.”

  They all got up and left with the exception of Maloney. Parker looked at him. “Any suggestions, John?”

  Maloney thought for a moment. “The only thing we have going for us, Mr. President with this latest can of worms, is time!”

  Parker looked curious. “Time?”

  “Yes, Mr. President,” Maloney replied. “The time since they left the Bureau and Agency, during which as independent security consultants working overseas, we couldn’t possibly be responsible for any fallout from what they were involved in.”

  Parker still looked unimpressed. “True to a degree, I suppose, but Prime Minister Gray is our closest ally and we don’t want to appear to be doing a snow job on him!”

  “I agree, sir. As you say it’s just as well to get the tone of the meeting before we commit ourselves to a line of defense. We must obviously offer our wholehearted cooperation to help find these two people, of course.”

  Parker nodded. “Exactly. I must also send a letter to Her Majesty indicating our shock at the attack and relief that she is safe, together with our sympathy for the dead and injured and let her know we are also putting all our resources behind an in-depth investigation to see if we can help to bring the attackers to justice.”

  Maloney was relieved that it was the President and not himself carrying the load.

  * * *

  In the safe house office of the RIRA outside Belfast, the Army Council were already discussing the world news story of the attempted assassination of the Queen. Brady was setting the scene for the other six members in attendance. The Council themselves were well-educated, semi- intellectual terrorists, somewhat embarrassed at times by the more violent, less educated militants in their midst.

  “Here’s the situation, gentlemen,” Brady began. “The bad news is that the botched attempt to assassinate the Queen, may well have been the work of one of our covert cells, the one run by Sean Quinn!”

  There was a chorus of derision at the mention of Quinn’s name. “Typical!”, “That crazy bastard!” Similar derogatory comments fell freely from the mouths of those gathered as Brady continued. “There’s forty grand unaccounted for in Quinn’s budget which would be more than enough to set up a stupid caper like this,” he added. “However, and this is what confuses me, the only gunman identified was very conveniently an ex-CIA operative Jake Harrigan, a guy we don’t even know and so far, the RIRA have not been mentioned!”

  The Operations Director of RIRA, Tom O’Brien was quick to interject. “So, if what you’re sayin’ is correct, Seamus, as long as this Yankee is takin’ the heat, we’re in the clear?”

  Brady was in agreement. “Exactly, Tom, but we need to monitor this thing closely because if it was Quinn’s stupid idea and he gets implicated in any way, this will still drop on us like a ton of shit!”

  O’Brien replied. “Correct, not to mention possible reprisals. These damned Brits must be mad as hell that someone even had the audacity to try and pop the Queen.”

  Brady looked at all those gathered. “So, gentlemen, if any of you are in contact with Quinn, we need him back here immediately for a full explanation.”

  They all nodded in agreement.

  CHAPTER 11

  So far, Jake and Sarah had made good progress since they had taken the roads adjacent to the M5 Motorway going north towards the City of Worcester. With Jake Senior’s excellent GPS in operation in the old, red Vauxhall, they had been able to take evasive action when road blocks were flagged ahead, since they were shown as traffic jams on the GPS, and they were working on the premise that if they could get closer to Worcester it would be harder to track them there than in the semi-rural surroundings of the outskirts of Cheltenham.

  They had the car radio on and as every bulletin came on concerning the attempted assassination, both of them could see clearly that they were already tried and convicted in the minds of the British people and that nobody would even be interested in cutting them any slack if they turned themselves in.

  Jake looked across at Sarah, concern in his eyes when he saw the stressed look on her face. “You know,” he began. “There’s only one way we can clear ourselves in this mess, since everybody already has us guilty.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We need to find the bastards who did it and bring them in ourselves!”

  She looked at him in shock. “Oh great! So, while we’re trying to stay ahead of the biggest manhunt in history, in our spare time we’re gonna track down and bring in some whacked-out terrorists from God knows where?”

  He smiled. “Something like that! So, what were you thinking?”

  As usual that clinical mind of hers was already covering the options. “So many things my mind is spinning!”

  Jake gave a patient smile. “Go ahead, I’m listening?|”

  “Well,” she began. “We need to ditch the wheels as soon as we can. MI5 will already have traced your rental car, found out that it’s still sitting in Gramps driveway and immediately assumed you took his car and will no doubt already have that information.”

  Her prophetic thinking was uncannily confirmed as the radio announcer came on the radio advising that the vehicle that the terrorists were now probably driving was a red 2008 Vauxhall Zafira Tourer, even giving the license number and asking anyone who saw the vehicle to call 999 immediately.

  Jake looked at Sarah in surprise. “Looks like you nailed that one on the head!” he looked ahead and his expression suddenly changed. Fifty yards ahead was a gas station and a man was getting out of his car at the pumps, the engine still running as he walked into the gas station, presumably to get a snack.

  Jake’s mind was made up and he headed straight for the lone car on the deserted forecourt of the gas station.

  Sarah looked at him. “What are you gonna do?”

  He looked at her quickly, his CIA training kicking in. “When I stop the car, I’m gonna dive into that blue car at the pump, you move quickly into my seat and when I move off, follow my ass, understand?”

  She looked at him fearlessly. “Let’s do it!”

  The Vauxhall crunched to a stop, Jake jumped out and by the time he was in the other car, a blue Ford Mondeo, luckily finding the keys still in the ignition and the engine running, Sarah was already in the driver’s seat in the Vauxhall and ready to drive off the gas station forecourt. All it took was 20 seconds!

  They disappeared up the road just as the owner of the car came out of the gas station store with a Coke in his hand and looked at the empty space where his car had been. “What the fuck?” he gasped scratching his head in amazement as he looked at the two cars disappearing up the road, his car followed by the red Vauxhall.

  * * *

  A few miles down the road, Jake turned off into the woods at the side of the road followed by Sarah. He drove until he reached a tree-lined clearing so that Sarah could park the Vauxhall away from immediate view from the road.

  They quickly removed any identifying information from inside the Vauxhall as well as a folding map of the UK and the portable GPS system, rushed back to the blue Ford they had stolen and reversed out of the clearing and onto the road continuing north.

  Sarah looked at Jake with a half-smile on her face. “Not only are we Public Enemies One and Two, we can now also add grand theft auto to our impressive list of accomplishments. Nobody could ever say
we led a dull life!”

  He looked at her and smiled. “You got that right. Any more prophetic observations?” he asked.

  She thought for a moment. “How are we for gas?”

  He checked. “Almost three quarters of a tank. That’s why the guy wasn’t shopping for gas.”

  “Exactly,” she replied. “So, how much money do you have, because it’s obvious we can’t use our credit cards or they will be on us in a heartbeat?”

  Jake was trying to remember. “I cashed five hundred bucks in traveller’s checks yesterday, so I guess that’s about three hundred pounds, how about you?”

  She thought for a moment. “About the same, I guess.”

  “So, we should be okay for a while,” he began. “But we can’t risk going into stores, we need to use remote vending machines for drinks and snacks, so nobody can spot us.”

  She was already thinking ahead. “So, the next problem is where do we sleep and where do we hide this car?”

  Jake nodded. “Good thinking, the guy who owned this has probably already reported it stolen and if the law find Gramps’s car any time soon, maybe they’ll put two and two together and start a major hunt for this car too!”

  It was now starting to get dark as they continued to drive into the quiet countryside. Suddenly, ahead, Jake spotted a call box. He looked at Sarah. “I need to call Gramps, make sure he’s okay.”

  She nodded in agreement. “Don’t stay on the line too long.”

  He smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m calling him at the pub. Even GCHQ would have trouble making that connection. D’you have any coins?”

  She fished in her purse and gave him a handful of coins. “What’s the name of the pub?” she asked.

  For a second his mind went blank and then he remembered. “The Cherry Tree Pub in Swindon Village.” he pulled up at the phone box, went inside, asked the operator to get him the number and inserted the coins.

  * * *

  It was a typical busy night in the Cherry Tree Pub and at 9.00 pm the habitual drinking population of the Cheltenham area, as in any other British city, were out in the pubs in force for the last ninety minutes of heavy drinking before the pubs closed. In the Tap Room, having waited until the two men tailing him had lost patience and left, Jake Sr. was enjoying a half pint of his favorite creamy topped Guinness, his German Shepherd Bessie sitting obediently at his feet. When the phone rang behind the busy bar, Phil, the bartender answered the phone. “Cherry Tree, can I help you?”