Generations of Love

by Wendy Pulford

  King then introduced Alex and Dougie. ‘Some of you may already know that we have with us Inspector Hartman and Sergeant Johnson from the SB in London. They’ve an ongoing situation linked up with what we’re trying to do today. Perhaps you’d like to say a few words, Inspector?’

  Alex stood, and looked around the room. ‘We’re working on the premise that this is not a hoax. I’ll be much happier, though, when things start happening. From then on you all know your individual roles. If this is who we think, I don’t need to remind you that he is a professional. He’s been around the block a few times. One whiff of anything out of the ordinary and he’ll be off, so remember, act casual, but when you’re told, go in hard.’ He grinned at them. ‘I’ll buy the beers afterwards!’

  King looked over at Dougie, who shook his head. Not time for a celebration yet, it seemed.

  He took over again. ‘Right, people. Take your places, and we just sit and wait, but keep alert. Let’s show London we know how to do this as well as they do!’

  CHAPTER 17

  It was early afternoon before a message came through that a fishing boat had been spotted out at sea, heading for the Ardrossan part of the coast. The message was passed around all units to stand ready.

  Alex was sitting in the Manager’s office at the airport, going over the planning once more in his mind, in case there was anything vital that had been overlooked. He didn’t think so. He felt better now that it appeared things were moving. He looked once more at the plan of the airport, visualising possible entrance and exit routes, of which there were several. He wanted this end buttoned up tight, not have someone running around loose with possible danger to the public. He also had a good look at the layout of the airfield itself, and its outbuildings. He drank another cup of coffee. He must be awash with the stuff, he thought, but he needed to keep awake.

  It was another two hours before the word came from the harbour that an outboard dinghy had just landed one male passenger, who was making his way up to the road.

  *

  It was a calm journey across, according to the skipper, but Liam O’Dowd was a land person, and anything above a flat calm was akin to a force ten gale to him. He kept himself to himself on the journey. The skipper didn’t seem to want to talk that much anyway. The young deck hand looked at him in awe and fascination, as if he was some alien, just arrived from outer space. He did learn that they did this run several times a year, which was some sort of comfort.

  At one point he thought he heard the sound of a helicopter, and went out on deck to look. The skipper bundled him back into the wheel house.

  ‘It’s just an Air Sea Rescue helicopter. They often do training out here, sometimes with the local lifeboat. Nothing unusual. Another hour or so and we’ll be there. I’ll moor a way offshore and get the inflatable out, and Fergal can run you in. He’ll wait there until you get back. I’ll stay with the boat.’

  The idea of going anywhere in a small dinghy was not to O’Dowd’s liking, but if the boy could do it, so could he. He just nodded his understanding.

  It was almost dark when, with some relief, he set foot on dry land again. The transfer to shore had been the worst part yet. As he moved along the quayside, all seemed quiet. There were no lights anywhere, and all he could hear was the sound of the water lapping against the harbour wall. He climbed the steps and made his way up to the road. Nothing could be seen except a dog walker in the distance. He waited. He knew he was on time; he had checked before scrambling into the dinghy. A car came past, but kept going. Another car was coming, and he watched as it slowed down. The driver beckoned him over and O’Dowd crossed the road, settling himself into the passenger seat as the car moved off again.

  *

  King put down the phone. ‘He’s mobile. Blue Ford Cortina, heading for the A78. Got to be making for Glasgow. Let’s get in place everyone.’

  He grinned at Alex. Things were moving now, with that news. He’d also heard some other news, but now was not the time to disclose it. Boy, would there be a party tonight if this all went off well!

  Alex had decided he wanted to be on the ground. He positioned himself near a small exit door, but it also gave him a good view of the main concourse. The Cortina was being tailed and appeared to be making steady progress towards the airport. As soon as the man entered the terminal, he would be identified. Alex hoped everyone would keep on their toes, alert, but not make any sudden moves. The waiting around was always the worst part, and people being too keen for action was just as dangerous.

  *

  The car driver told O’Dowd that he was to enter the terminal and wait outside the WH Smith book shop, where contact would be made. He would return in ten minutes to pick him up again. He was handed a red shoulder bag to use as identification and also for the package.

  After a quick look around, O’Dowd left the car and walked into the terminal, glancing about in a casual manner. It all seemed quiet enough. He turned towards the shops and identified WH Smith. He pretended to look in the windows for a minute, and then turned to face the passenger area, checking his watch. He put the bag between his feet and waited.

  *

  ‘He’s here. Six foot, dark hair, mid-to late thirties. Casual black jacket and black cords. Red shoulder bag. WH Smith.’

  The alert was passed around the waiting men.

  Five minutes went by and no apparent approach was made. The man looked at his watch again, and his gaze searched the area around him. He was getting jittery, thought Alex. And then it came to him. There was no package. This man had been set up.

  Someone else was coming to the same conclusion. Alex could see it happening, in the change of attitude and stance. The man was now wary, watching. It was never clear afterwards whether someone or something made the man suspicious, or whether he just decided to get out, but without warning he started to run through the building, leaving his bag behind.

  A shouted command rang out. ‘He’s moving! Close in!’

  Alex waited to watch the man’s line of flight. He found one of the exit doors, and, thrusting aside a startled young officer placed there, disappeared out into the night. Christ, they couldn’t lose him now!

  Alex burst out of the door at his side and raced off down the length of the terminal building, dodging luggage containers and other pieces of equipment. He saw the figure not too far ahead, sometimes silhouetted in occasional pools of light. Where was he making for? Alex discarded the heavy coat he was wearing, even though the air was cold. He needed to be free in his movements. He could hear sirens and shouting behind him, but ignored it. He kept his eyes on the black shape and tried not to look at any of the lights. The man was still moving between the machinery, then a roller door screeched up and, for a moment, he was bathed in a pool of harsh yellow light.

  Alex moved from his hiding place and pounded forward. The man sensed him coming and turned away into the darkness. Disorientated for a moment, Alex looked around. Which way had he gone? He then made out a dark shape moving across one of the aircraft parking areas near the terminal. He followed after him. The man appeared to be heading for the airfield itself. Was he hoping to hide until first light, and then find another way out of the airport?

  Alex felt grass under his feet. The figure was moving quicker now, and Alex upped his pace. It was cold, dark and quiet out here. All the sirens and shouting had faded away. Alex tried to visualise the plan of the airport. Where on earth was he? He saw moving lights to one side, and then realised: the man was making his way towards a runway, and there was a plane coming in! The figure ahead must have become conscious of the situation as he further quickened his pace. As Alex followed him he felt the tarmac of the runway under his feet. The lights were closer now and he could hear the scream of the jet engines. He hurled himself forward and fell on his face in damp grass. He kept his head down as the wind from the passing jet buffeted him, spitting dust and dirt.

 
After several moments, half deafened by the noise, he raised his head, breathing hard. Where was his quarry? Had he lost him? He looked around in desperation, and then made himself calm down and look again. Yes, he had him: just a dark moving shape. He tried to visualise the airfield plan again. There were some buildings on the far side of the field where, perhaps, the fugitive was hoping to find a hiding place.

  Alex could see in his mind’s eye that if he circled round to his left, he might be able to intersect with the path the figure was taking. He raised himself into a crouching position. He would have to take a chance and stand up to run, but he doubted the man would be looking behind him. Alex set off at a steady trot; no use expending more energy than he needed at the moment. At one point he thought he had twisted his ankle when he tripped over a divot left by grass-cutting machinery and fell flat on his face. He stood up again, testing himself, but there didn’t seem to be any damage.

  He completed his flanking circle and came to a small brick building about eight feet high with a flat concrete roof. If his quarry was heading in the direction he thought he was, he would have to pass this way, with any luck making use of the cover of this very building. If he could get on top and lie flat, there was a chance he could drop on the man as he came by.

  Alex looked around, but could see nothing to enable him to access the roof with ease. He would have to take a run, grab for the concrete edge and try to haul himself up. His first try ended in failure. He took a deep breath and tried again, reaching as high as he could. His feet scrabbled for purchase on the brick wall, and little by little he managed to inch his way up until his forearms were over the edge. Using the strength of his arms he hauled the rest of his body up on to the roof. He lay there panting. This was doing his suit no good at all, he thought!

  Keeping himself in a prone position, he scanned the area. He orientated himself with the way he had come and where he had last seen the man. At first he saw nothing, but after peering into the darkness for a few moments he made out what appeared to be a more solid shape heading his way. That must be him. Alex breathed a sigh of relief. Now, if he stayed lying flat on the roof until the man was almost beneath him, he would be able to carry out his plan to leap down either on him or near him, with height and surprise as his advantage.

  He calmed his breathing and tried to concentrate his mind. He turned up the collar of his navy suit jacket to cover the pale outline of his shirt. What if this man was armed? It was possible. He himself had no weapon at all. From what he had seen of the man in the terminal, he was about the same height and build, so there would be no advantage there. He decided not to think about the situation any further. He was here alone and would have to do the best he could.

  The moving shape was nearer now, still coming his way. The closer he came to Alex’s position the better. He could hear the sound of sirens, but they were in the distance. King was no doubt still hunting for him around the terminal area.

  The shape was close now. Alex pressed his body into the roof as flat as he could, and lay still. There was no reason for the man to look up and spot him.

  Keeping as relaxed as he could and his breathing steady, Alex became conscious of the figure moving below him. He gathered his legs up underneath him until he was in a crouching position and then launched himself off the roof. This one’s for you, Joe, he thought.

  With his feet braced together, he hit the man in the back. They both tumbled in the grass. Alex was up first. The other man was on all fours, still half-winded, attempting to draw great gulps of air back into his lungs. This is the one chance I’ll get, thought Alex. He dived at the figure and with his shoulder had him prone on the ground. He felt his hand connect with something hard in the grass, and with the stab of pain knew he was injured. It had to end in a hurry now, or he would lose the advantage he had. He swung a blow at the man’s head and then struggled to pull his jacket down his arms to try to trap them. The man was kicking out, attempting to connect with some part of Alex’s body. Trying with his own weight to keep him on the ground, Alex lay over him, managing to avoid the blows.

  He became aware of lights and voices coming towards him. He called out and heard an answering shout. He found himself being picked up by several pairs of hands, and Chief Inspector King’s worried face came into view.

  ‘That was a bloody stupid thing to do, boy! Are you alright?’

  Alex looked over to where half a dozen of King’s men had surrounded the fugitive. There was no way he was going to get away again.

  He gave Roy King a shaky grin. ‘I am now, Roy, apart from my hand.’ He looked at the blood running down his fingers. ‘I saw him take off across the field and I couldn’t let him get away.’

  ‘Good job a pilot radioed into the tower that he saw figures running across the runway in front of him as he was about to land, otherwise we might have taken some time in finding you. Christ, laddie, you gave me a fright! I wished afterwards that I’d told you!’

  ‘Sorry, Roy, you’ve lost me now. Told me what?’

  ‘Oh, it’ll keep for a bit. Let’s get you back and have that hand looked at. Here, use my handkerchief. We got them all, by the way. The Coastguards have apprehended the fishing boat and they’re bringing the skipper in. There was a boy waiting in a dinghy in the harbour. Pretty feisty, by all accounts: took three of them to subdue him. We also nabbed the Cortina. It seems it wasn’t waiting around to do any return trip.’

  Alex settled into the back of an airport security vehicle with a sigh.

  ‘I think our man was set up, Roy. There was no package to pick up at all, and he began to realise it, that’s why he ran. I wonder if he’s anyone special, not just a courier?’

  ‘We’ll have a picture circulated and see if he’s known. I doubt he’ll volunteer his name and address.’

  The lights in the terminal were quite dazzling after the darkness. Alex was half-aware of grins, and thumbs up, and even slaps on the back as he walked up to the Manager’s office. His hand was looked at, a deep gash on the side near the wrist which, the airport first aiders informed him, would need a stitch. They then cleaned off the cuts to his face caused by the aircraft debris. He felt in need of a drink but made do with a glass of water.

  King told him he’d be taken to a police station where everyone was gathering, and a police doctor would be waiting so that his hand could be dealt with then.

  When Alex arrived, he again found that everyone was smiling at him, and congratulating him, and he began to feel embarrassed. The doctor looked at his hand and confirmed it required stitching and proceeded to patch him up and then left to check over the well guarded prisoners.

  King handed Alex a small tot of whisky, and poured one for himself.

  ‘Sit down boy, and have this. You’re going to need it.’ He then looked at the dishevelled young man with a huge grin on his face.

  ‘I’ll say this for your crowd, Roy, they all seem to be in high humour,’ commented Alex, still trying to see the reason for quite so much elation.

  ‘Nothing like a celebration.’ King was still grinning.

  Alex looked at him harder. There was something going on here. The door opened and Dougie burst in.

  ‘Boy, am I glad to see you in one piece, Boss. Well, almost,’ he amended as he took in Alex’s bandaged hand and scruffy appearance. He looked at King. ‘Have you told him?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘What’s going on? Told me what?’

  ‘You are the proud father of a bouncing baby boy!’ announced King.

  CHAPTER 18

  Alex looked from one grinning face to the other.

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘It’s right,’ said Dougie. ‘Catherine called this morning to say something was starting and she was getting to hospital. We had a call just before this thing kicked off tonight to say she’s had a boy. We decided not to tell you about anything. You needed all your
concentration.’

  King spoke up. ‘I wondered if that was the right thing to do when I thought you might have got yourself into trouble out there, but it’s all turned out alright. Congratulations!’

  Alex was still in a daze. ‘But she wasn’t due yet. Are you sure?’

  ‘Very sure. A Sister Sarah McIntyre rang in the news. They’re both OK. Everyone’s chuffed to bits for you.’

  As the news began to sink in, Alex felt close to tears. ‘My poor darling. I wasn’t there to help her.’

  ‘Seems as if she’s done alright on her own, laddie. Now, back to business. We’ll get you to London as soon as we can, but do you want to cast an eye over our catch?’

  With great difficulty Alex clawed his mind back to the job in hand. ‘Yes, I would like to see what we’ve got, Roy.’

  ‘OK. I’ll organise it. We’ll keep them separated and maybe we might get lucky and someone will talk.’

  When they were alone, Dougie looked at Alex. ‘I’m pleased for you both. Give Catherine a kiss for me when you see her. If you want me to wrap things up here while you get back, I don’t mind. You’d better get cleaned up some first, though.’

  Alex stood up and looked down at himself. ‘Yes, I’d better get to a washroom. Thanks, Dougie. I’ll pass your wishes on to Catherine. I’ll have some of my own, too!’

  He shook his head to try to clear his mind. ‘I’ll have a first look at what we have here and then we can discuss what needs to be done.’