Hunting Ground

by L J Morris

  Lancaster, once again, disturbed Thorpe’s concentration. ‘Any questions you have regarding past or present MI6 operations should be addressed to me, Chief Superintendent.’

  Thorpe was becoming agitated at Carter’s coolness and Lancaster’s constant interruptions. He looked at his watch. ‘This is getting us nowhere.’ He stormed out and opened the door to the interview room. ‘Interview suspended. Gardner, with me.’

  ‘Sir?’ DS Gardner looked confused at the sudden interruption. ‘Interview suspended eleven fifteen.’ She pressed the stop button on the recorder and followed the DCS into the corridor. ‘SIR?’

  DC Lawton looked embarrassed, unsure what to do. After exchanging glances with Carter, he cleared his throat, checked his watch, then excused himself and hurried out of the room.

  Fawcett put his file back in his briefcase. ‘They’ll keep trying this, Simeon. They’re trying to wear you down. You’re innocent and the evidence is circumstantial, so keep your chin up. I’ll make sure this all stays in the public eye and then they can’t make you disappear to some secret facility out of the country. How’s Danny coping?’

  ‘Being remanded was a shock for him. He really wasn’t expecting to end up in prison. Have you spoken to him?’

  ‘Gardner and co have interviewed him in the same way they’ve interviewed you, but I’m worried he might say something stupid if put under enough pressure. He doesn’t have your experience.’

  ‘I’ll keep an eye on him, Peter. At least they let us share a cell.’

  Fawcett shook Carter’s hand. ‘Stay strong, Simeon. We’ll beat this thing.’

  Lancaster looked along the corridor then entered the interview room, staying by the door and out of the view of the CCTV camera. ‘How are you doing, Simeon?’

  ‘I’m okay, Edward. Listen, we don’t have much time. Have you heard from Sinclair?’

  ‘There have been a couple of incidents, which we think are them, but nothing concrete. She and McGill need to stay in hiding. The police are convinced you all had something to do with the attack. Someone is planting evidence against you. My boss is pushing for more MI6 and military involvement in the manhunt – I think he sees it as a way of climbing the ladder; I reckon he’s got political ambitions. I don’t trust him at all.’

  ‘Does he suspect you?’

  ‘Not yet. After Sinclair’s last escapade he knows she’s somehow connected to MI6, but he doesn’t know it’s me. I told you before, Simeon. I didn’t tell anyone I was using you and Sinclair as a team. I’ll protect you as much as I can, but, sooner or later, he’ll find out you’re working for me.’

  ‘You need to protect yourself, Edward. You need to find evidence that identifies Vadim. Just in case Ali doesn’t make it.’

  ‘I’m doing everything I can. You stay safe, Simeon. I’ll try and get you both out.’

  A prison officer opened the door. ‘Okay, Carter. Let’s get you back to your cell.’

  * * *

  Several senior military and police officers were filing out of the Home Secretary’s office when Thorpe arrived to give him his briefing.

  ‘Ah, Thorpe, come in.’ Enfield waved him into the room. ‘Thank you, gentlemen. Keep me informed of any developments.’

  The rest of the senior figures still in the room, stood and left; some a little annoyed that Thorpe seemed to have a privileged position with the new Home Secretary. They could all sense the big changes that were about to happen. People were positioning themselves to climb the ladder. Not all of them would still be in post when the dust settled.

  Enfield gestured towards a chair. ‘Have a seat, Chief Superintendent.’

  Thorpe sat down, feeling a little uncomfortable – like a schoolboy in the headmaster’s office. ‘Thank you, sir.’

  Enfield checked that everyone had left the room and the door was closed. His mood changed. His demeanour became darker, more conspiratorial, and he lowered his voice. ‘Why are Carter and Kinsella still causing me problems? Didn’t I tell you I wanted them dealt with? Wasn’t I clear when I said I wanted them gone?’

  Thorpe ran his fingers around the inside of his collar. ‘It’s not that easy, sir. Too many people know they are in the system. There would be awkward questions if they just disappeared. We have to follow the law.’

  Enfield slammed his palm down on the desk, an action that created a louder noise than he’d expected or wanted. He checked through the office’s glass wall to make sure it hadn’t attracted anyone’s attention. He turned back to Thorpe. Once again, he lowered his voice, but the menace was still there. ‘I don’t give a shit about the law. I want them buried in a deep, dark hole. Better still, I want them dead. Find a way.’

  Thorpe was sweating, rivulets running down his back. ‘I will, sir. You can rely on me.’

  ‘I hope so, Chief Superintendent, for your sake and mine.’ Enfield adjusted his tie and composed himself. ‘What about Sinclair and McGill? What about the American boy? I haven’t heard any good news about them. They are the only people, other than you, who can identify me. I want the evidence they have, and I want them all taken care of.’

  ‘We’re doing all we can, sir. We’re monitoring ports and airports. I’m sure they’ll be heading for London. I’ve got people watching CCTV and using facial recognition. We’ll find them.’

  The Home Secretary slammed his fist on his desk and sent a pen holder crashing to the floor. This time, people outside the office did take notice. Enfield didn’t care any more. ‘What you’re doing isn’t enough. Do I need to remind you what will happen if we are found out? It’s more than your career that will die.’

  Thorpe could see his career – his life – coming to a sudden stop. Enfield was losing it on a regular basis. People were starting to talk about the pressure getting to him. It was only a matter of time until he blew up in public. ‘You can trust me. I’ll—’

  ‘Get out. Don’t come back until you’ve got good news.’

  Thorpe crept out of the room, closing the door behind him. People in the office were looking at him, wondering what he had done to annoy the Home Secretary like that. If they hadn’t been worried about their own careers, they might have said something, raised some concerns.

  DCS Thorpe loosened his tie and dabbed at his face with a handkerchief. He had to do something to get back in Enfield’s good books. If he didn’t, it wasn’t just his life on the line – his family, friends and colleagues were all in danger, too. Other than Sinclair, everyone who had met Enfield and knew his real identity was already dead. Thorpe knew he would be next, as soon as he was no longer useful.

  As he walked down the corridor his phone started to ring: a call from the team he had monitoring the CCTV. Maybe this was the break he needed. ‘DCS Thorpe.’

  DS Gardner sounded excited. ‘Sir, we’ve found them.’

  Thorpe’s heart raced. ‘Are you sure?’

  Gardner couldn’t conceal her excitement. ‘Yes, sir, as sure as we can be. I’ve looked at the CCTV pictures and I’m convinced it’s Sinclair and McGill.’

  The DCS closed his eyes and took a deep breath, a feeling of relief, of hope, washed over him.

  Gardner thought the line had gone dead. She checked her phone still had a signal then held it back up to her ear. ‘Sir?’

  Thorpe opened his eyes. People were still looking at him. ‘Where are they?’

  ‘They’re on the Strand, close to Charing Cross Police Station.’

  ‘Well done, Zoe. I’m on my way.’ He hung up and dialled another number. ‘Sinclair and McGill are on the Strand. I’ll stall the police response, get there now and pick them up. Look for the boy, too.’

  ‘We’re on it.’ Three of Vadim’s assassins had been in London since before the Geneva attack, ready to move at a moment’s notice. Ready to take care of anyone, anything, their boss wanted. They packed their weapons into paint-spattered tool bags and walked out of the old house they had been living in. The three of them jumped into an old, white, builder’s van, which they�
��d been using to get around in, and headed for Charing Cross. They would be lucky to get there before their targets left, but they had to give it their best shot. They couldn’t risk upsetting their boss.

  * * *

  Sinclair and McGill were already walking away from the bank and back across Waterloo Bridge towards the tube station when the white van pulled to a halt on the Strand. Two of the occupants climbed out and scanned the crowds that made their way along the pavement. As they’d expected, Sinclair and McGill were nowhere to be seen. With this many people on the street it was unlikely they would have spotted them anyway. The CCTV camera that had picked them up was mounted on the corner of a building, pointing parallel to the buildings, but there was no way for them to tell which way they had gone.

  As they watched tourists milling about, one of them spotted a passenger climbing out of the back of a black cab. Vadim’s assassin checked the photo he had been given and compared it to the passenger. It was Callum Porter.

  The man handed the photo to his colleague, pointed towards Porter and signalled the driver of the van. Porter didn’t spot anything, he wasn’t looking for threats. He didn’t spot the two men following him, or even the old, white, builder’s van creeping along the street behind him. As Porter turned the corner towards the bank, the two men grabbed him and bundled him into the back of the van; the door slid closed and the driver put his foot down. The van sped off in a cloud of black, oily smoke.

  The motorcycle courier, who had followed Porter’s taxi into the city, was watching as the two men grabbed the American. There was nothing he could do to stop it, he had no training for that. He watched as the van pulled out into the traffic; he put his phone away and followed on behind.

  Chapter 29

  When Carter got back to the cell, Kinsella was lying on the top bunk reading a book. He put down the book when he saw Carter and sat up. ‘How did it go?’

  ‘Same questions, again and again, Danny. All we have to do is stay quiet and give Sinclair the time she and McGill need.’

  ‘I’m not sure I can keep this up, Simeon.’ He looked around at the blank walls of the cell. ‘Not sure I can survive in here long-term.’

  Carter was worried about Kinsella. He’d had a protected childhood; he went to a private school and then to university. He’d never experienced anything outside that world, he wasn’t streetwise. The noise of the prison, the threats, the bullying, must be playing on his mind. ‘You’ll be okay, Danny.’

  Kinsella slowly shook his head. ‘When I was in the room, Gardener was quite nice to me. She kept saying my sentence would be shorter if I came clean, said I might even be let out if I told her everything.’

  ‘Don’t believe her, Danny. She’ll tell you anything to get you to talk.’

  ‘Was she friendly towards you, too, Simeon? When she was asking you questions?’

  Carter smiled. ‘Not really, but she’s just asking the questions her boss wants her to. Thorpe’s the one we have to be wary of.’ Carter didn’t want to tell Kinsella that they were targeting him, that they saw the younger man most likely to break. ‘I think I annoyed them. Thorpe dragged gardener out of the interview.’

  Kinsella jumped down from the bunk. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea to antagonise them.’

  Carter shrugged. ‘What are they going to do? We’re already locked up.’

  Kinsella sat down on the bottom bunk, elbows on his knees. ‘I suppose you’re right. It just feels like everyone is against us. Who’s on our side, other than Sinclair and McGill?’

  Carter put his hand on Kinsella’s back. ‘Edward was there. I managed to have a few words with him. He’s a friend, even if he can’t say so.’

  ‘What did he say? Can he get us out?’

  ‘He’s doing everything he can, but it takes time. There are too many people either covering their arses or trying to climb the slippery pole. If they think that seeing us locked up forever is in their interests, they won’t help.’

  ‘But we didn’t do anything, Simeon. How can they think we were responsible for killing so many people?’

  ‘It’s all planted evidence, Danny. The only chance we have is for Sinclair and McGill to come up with something that brings the whole conspiracy crashing down around their ears.’

  Kinsella paced what little floor space there was. ‘We don’t even know if they’re alive. What are we going to do if—?’

  Kinsella’s question was unfinished, as two other inmates appeared at the cell door. One kept watch as the other entered the cell and pulled out a knife. ‘Right, you two. Out. Now.’

  Kinsella retreated as far as he could. ‘What do you want?’

  The inmate with the knife had been giving them trouble since they’d arrived at the prison, but he hadn’t threatened them with a knife before. This was something new.

  ‘I said, out.’ The inmate signalled towards the door.

  Carter was, as ever, cool and calm. He knew someone else was pulling this little shit’s strings. It was unlikely he would try and kill them there. ‘It’s okay, Danny, just do as he says.’

  Knifeman put on a whining voice, ‘Yeah, Danny. Do as I say.’

  The lookout laughed. ‘Let’s go.’

  Carter beckoned Kinsella to the door and they squeezed out passed the two inmates. Knifeman gave them directions and they walked along the cell block, followed by the henchman.

  At the end of the block, in an alcove, was an old steel door that led to the old boiler room. The machinery that provided heating to the old Victorian prison had been updated and relocated, but the old boilers were still there. There were no cameras in that room and none of the guards ever used it. This was a place where scores were settled, away from prying eyes. Knifeman turned the handle and pushed the green, flaking surface of the door. ‘In.’

  The door swung open and Carter and Kinsella entered the dimly lit space.

  The henchman stayed at the door while Knifeman forced Carter and Kinsella along a corridor and into the darkest corner of the boiler room. Plaster from the crumbling ceiling littered the floor and a rat scurried away as they approached. Knifeman pointed to the far side of the room. ‘No one’s gonna find you two till it’s too late.’

  Kinsella took half a step forward and put his arm in front of Carter in an attempt to shield him. Kinsella was terrified but wasn’t going to let this arsehole see it. Carter was family, and if they were going to die then it wouldn’t be on their knees. ‘Why are you doing this?’

  ‘You got a price on your heads and I need the money. Got debts. Nothin’ personal.’

  ‘I can give you more money than you can imagine. Just walk away.’

  Knifeman shook his head. ‘Can’t do, mate. You don’t take a contract from these people then walk away. I could end up as next on their shit list. Anyways, if I don’t kill ya, someone else will. Just accept it.’

  Carter took two steps back then worked his way sideways, trying to outflank the inmate.

  Knifeman waved the knife at Carter. ‘Where d’ya think you’re fuckin’ goin, grandad? Get back in the fuckin’ corner.’

  Kinsella took a chance and grabbed for the knife. He gripped Knifeman’s wrist with his left hand and drove his right shoulder into his chest. The two men fell and wrestled on the floor, both trying to control the knife. Carter took a step and swung a kick at the inmate’s head but didn’t make full contact. The inmate pushed Kinsella off him and managed to stand up, grabbing Carter by the throat. Kinsella started to get up but the knife was already travelling towards the old man’s chest.

  None of the men in the room were expecting what happened next. A hand the size of the bucket on a digger grabbed Knifeman by the face and propelled him into the wall. His head crashed into the brickwork and the knife fell from his hand. The little shit slid down the wall, bleeding heavily from a wound on the back of his head.

  Carter looked at his rescuer. He was an enormous man they knew only as Grizzly, on account of his massive size and huge beard. He picked up the l
ittle shit with one giant paw and held him so their faces were level. The smaller man’s feet dangled at least a foot off the ground. ‘No one touches these two, right? Anyone tries, they have to deal with me. Got it?’

  Knifeman knew Grizzly’s reputation – he knew who he worked for. He nodded, blood dripping from his chin. ‘Okay, okay, I don’t have no beef wiv you.’

  Grizzly threw the man to the other side of the room, where he lay unconscious and bleeding.

  Carter helped Kinsella to his feet. They were both shocked by what had happened. Carter held out his hand. ‘Thank you.’

  Grizzly ignored the offered handshake and stroked his beard. ‘Anyone bothers you, you tell me. The word has been put around that you aren’t to be touched.’

  Carter was grateful, but still confused. ‘I thought there was a price on our heads?’

  ‘There is, but people in here fear my guvnor more than anyone who’s taken out a contract on you.’

  ‘And who is your guvnor?’

  ‘Let’s just say, Harry Nash doesn’t want you harmed.’

  Chapter 30

  Sinclair and McGill sat on a bench in the communal garden opposite Kinsella’s flat. There didn’t appear to be a police presence – uniformed or otherwise – outside the building. In the thirty minutes they had been watching, no one had entered or left through the front door. They had been sitting there as long as they could without looking out of the ordinary, and now they had to make a move; they either went in and searched the place, or left to return another day.

  McGill put his arm around Sinclair, as if they were a couple enjoying a snatched moment together. ‘What do you think, Ali? What should we do?’

  ‘We need to go in sooner or later, but we take it easy. No violence, no drama. Any sign of a police presence and we turn around and leg it. We get back to Callum.’

  McGill handed Sinclair a set of keys. ‘Danny gave me these before I went to Geneva, just in case. They’ll get us in.’