Underdogs

by Jack Fiske

  The thing certainly didn’t look like it was worth the money they were being paid for it. It was just a flat panel about a meter square, with a dark glass surface and a steel frame. It reminded Quinn of those solar heating panels that people fixed to the roof of their house to cut their electricity bills. The only difference was that the detector unit was at least ten inches thick and was extremely heavy.

  Having checked the unit as a precaution, Quinn re-wrapped it in the clear plastic bubble wrap that he had just peeled away and their two bodyguards lifted it into the back of Walker’s BMW, where it filled most of the boot space.

  The traffic out of London wasn’t too heavy and they made pretty good time. Kenny and John’O were the muscle in Walker’s organisation not the brains, so the conversation was almost non-existent. Quinn drove to give Walker a break, whilst the other three sat in silence and watched the scenery go by. To be fair, the silence was mostly due to Walker, who wouldn’t discuss business if he could help it. In his experience, things that were overheard were too easily repeated, even inadvertently.

  Quinn broke the silence as they passed a motorway sign. “Services half a mile. This is it.”

  Walker glanced at his watch. “Fifteen minutes early. You’d better park out of the way somewhere and we’ll wait for Musa to appear.”

  Quinn indicated and pulled into the slip lane, along with a stream of other vehicles.

  On Walker’s instructions, everyone had been watching the traffic for signs of a tail, but to be honest there could have been at least half a dozen cars that they had overtaken, or which had overtaken them, only to be seen again five or ten minutes later.

  Quinn wasn’t so sure that a motorway service station was a good place to meet. At least in town you could tell if someone was following you. It also made him uneasy that there was only one way in and one way out of the place.

  “Drop Kenny here,” Walker instructed, as they entered the car park.

  Quinn stopped for Kenny to get out and then drove on, pulling into a parking space nearer to the buildings themselves. It was one of Walker’s usual precautions. He liked to have at least one person watching from a distance, where they could give a warning if they saw anything suspicious, or create a diversion should it be necessary.

  Quinn switched off the engine and looked around. The service station was a typical example of the many that were scattered up and down the country’s motorways. A large concrete building dominated one end of the enormous car park and according to the signs, offered takeaway burgers, fish and chips, a restaurant and the usual shop selling newspapers and magazines. In the distance, beyond the lorry and coach park, there was a B.P. Garage and beyond that, a slip road leading back to the motorway. The whole area was busy with a steady flow of traffic coming and going from the motorway itself, which was an ever present noise in the background. In its favour however, the surroundings had been designed to try and make the place a bit more welcoming. Although there were large areas of tarmac and concrete, the buildings were surrounded by a wide border of grass and trees, whilst the car park was softened and broken into smaller units by areas of grass and mature shrubs, which did their best to soften the stark lines of the concrete buildings and the road beyond.

  Walker unbuckled his seat belt. “I’m going in to use the loo. You two stay here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  The door closed behind him and Quinn watched as he walked casually towards the main building. To their right he could see Kenny take a seat at one of the picnic tables that were set amongst the trees, where he could watch traffic coming and going and keep an eye on the car without looking too conspicuous himself.

  Quinn felt uncomfortable. He didn’t like sitting out in the open just waiting. Particularly when there was a few hundred thousand pounds worth of stolen equipment in the boot and he was the one behind the wheel. In the distance he saw Kenny take out his phone and put it to his ear and a moment later his own phone rang, making him jump, despite the fact that he had expected it.

  “What?” he said, pressing the phone to his ear.

  “Police,” Kenny replied. “About fifty yards to your left. Two of them in a marked car. They’ve just pulled up.”

  “Shit!” Quinn turned to look, but couldn’t see them beyond the rows of cars that stood in between.

  “Probably nothing to worry about,” Quinn replied calmly, despite the fact that he felt anything but calm. “Keep watching and let me know if they head in our direction.”

  Quinn could see Kenny with the phone still pressed to his ear and a moment later he said, “It’s o.k. they’re both out and are going into the building. Mr Walker’s coming back. They’ve just walked straight past him.”

  Quinn breathed a small sigh of relief. “Fine. Keep us posted if you see anything else.” He thumbed the disconnect button and put the phone back in his pocket as Walker opened the door and slid into the passenger seat.

  “O.k?” Walker asked, having seen Quinn on the phone.

  “Yeah, fine,” Quinn replied. “Kenny was just warning us that there’s a police car parked over there to your left.”

  “I know. I passed them on my way back. We’ll just sit tight for a while and if they’re still there when Musa arrives, we’ll move somewhere else before we let him see the goods.

  As it turned out, they needn’t have worried. Ten minutes later Quinn’s phone rang again and Kenny reported that the police had returned, got into their car and that he’d seen them drive out and re-join the motorway traffic on the slip road beyond the petrol station.

  As Quinn spoke to Kenny, Walker’s phone rang.

  “He’s here,” Walker said, twisting round in his seat to search the car park. “There he is – the man in the blue blazer, standing by the entrance.”

  Walker turned to Quinn. “You stay here. I’ll go and speak to him and if everything’s o.k. I’ll signal you to move the car.”

  “Fine,” Quinn agreed. “Where do you want me to park?”

  Walker pointed to an area to the right of the car park where there were fewer cars. “We’ll walk over there. When I say so, bring the car over and put it in one of those empty spaces next to the bushes.”

  Quinn nodded in agreement and Walker opened the door, got out and walked purposefully towards their contact.

  Behind him John’O also got out, but got straight back in again, squeezing his large frame into the vacant front seat beside Quinn where he had a better view and could get out easily if he was needed.

  Over at the picnic tables, Kenny got to his feet and walked casually through the trees and shrubs, looking to anyone watching as if he was simply stretching his legs after a long drive, but in reality finding a better position to watch both Musa and the BMW.

  It took a minute for Musa to spot Walker as he approached. Dressed in a blue blazer and grey flannel trousers, Musa could have been mistaken for one of the many foreign doctors who worked in the NHS nowadays, rather than a senior figure in a dangerous Middle Eastern organisation.

  Quinn and John’O watched as Walker shook Musa by the hand and the two talked. Quinn had no idea what they were discussing, but Musa was pointing at the services that lay on the other side of the motorway and the pedestrian bridge that joined them, as if explaining that he had walked across.

  Still in conversation, the two walked to the area that Walker had previously indicated and as planned, Walker raised his arm and beckoned for Quinn to drive over.

  “Here we go,” Quinn said. He reached inside his jacket to take out the small automatic pistol from its holster, checked it, made sure the safety catch was on and then returned it to its holster.

  “Everything look o.k. to you?” he asked, turning to John’O.

  John’O nodded. “Yeah fine. Looks as if this guy’s on his own.”

  Quinn put the BMW into gear, eased out of the parking space and drove the short distance across the car park, pulling in at the spot Walker had indicated. Walker and Musa were still having a serious discussion, no d
oubt about money and arrangements for delivering the goods.

  Eventually Walker nodded in their direction and the two got out of the car to wait for instructions. Kenny wandered by thirty or forty yards away eating an ice cream. Quinn wondered where he’d got it from. It was a nice touch. It made him look inconspicuous. Musa didn’t even glance in Kenny’s direction. To him he was just part of their general surroundings.

  It appeared Walker and Musa had come to some agreement, as they stopped talking and came to join them at the back of the car.

  Walker turned to Quinn. “Let’s see it then.”

  Quinn turned the key in the lock, lifted the boot and leaned in to pull back the wrapping from the K2 detector so that Musa could inspect it.

  As the Arab stepped forward, he reached inside his jacket and was surprised when his elbow was gripped firmly from behind as John’O moved in on him.

  Musa laughed nervously in sudden understanding. “No, no, all is in order. Here, you can see.”

  He undid the front of his jacket and held it open for John’O to check what he’d been reaching for. John’O didn’t need any further invitation and he put a hand into Musa’s inside pocket, pulling out a compact digital camera. Having checked it to satisfy himself that it was exactly what it appeared to be, he handed it back.

  “Just a precaution,” Walker said. “I hope you understand that we have to be careful in these situations.”

  “I understand,” Musa said. “It is alright. I must take some pictures though.”

  Quinn caught Walker’s eye over Musa’s shoulder and shook his head. Pictures were not a good idea. They gave away far too much information if they found their way into the wrong hands.

  Walker looked as if he agreed and was going to refuse, but then appeared to have second thoughts.

  “O.k.” Walker agreed. “But you tell me what you want and I’ll take the photographs. We don’t want any faces on the prints, or number plates, or anything that would identify us or where we are.”

  Musa nodded. “That is agreeable. Here you are.” He handed the camera to Walker and the two stepped forward to examine the detector in more detail.

  Walker had taken two pictures and was leaning right into the boot to take a third, when all hell broke loose. There were three loud reports in rapid succession from the far side of the car park, followed by men shouting and a woman screaming.

  “Shit! Those are gunshots.” Walker jumped back from the boot, just missing the boot lid with his head and turned in the direction of the noise, which was coming from a large area of shrubs in the far corner of the car park.

  Quinn’s hand was halfway to his own gun, but Walker stopped him before he could draw it.

  “Wait!” Walker hissed.

  Across the tarmac, two men were running towards the shrubbery, whilst a woman, obviously terrified, ran in the other direction, clutching a little girl to her chest. Everyone around them was transfixed, staring in the direction of the bushes from where the shots had come. Walker looked beyond Musa to where Kenny, now minus his ice cream, stood only a few yards away, having closed in quickly. Kenny shrugged. He hadn’t seen anything that would threaten them.

  Walker pressed the camera into Musa’s hand and slammed the boot closed. “Here take this. We need to get out of here. I’ll phone you once we’re clear.”

  Musa just stood there, as if waiting to see what would happen next. Walker took hold of his shoulders and turned him physically to face in the other direction.

  “Never mind that. Get a bloody move on. Something’s going down and if we don’t get out of here right now, we’re not going to be able to.”

  Quinn was already back in the car and had started the engine. Walker and the other two piled in and he pulled away smartly, driving for the exit. Through the rear view mirror he saw Musa hurrying towards the buildings and the footbridge that spanned the motorway.

  “What was that?” Quinn asked.

  “God knows,” Walker replied. “But I don’t like it. We need to get away from here and fast.”

  The motorway was busy and as Quinn pulled into the traffic, they were swallowed up by a mass of cars and lorries heading north.

  “Do you want to get off the main road?” Quinn asked.

  “Yes.” Walker was scanning the traffic behind them. “Go past the next junction to the second exit and then I’ll tell you where to go.”

  The second exit was only five or six minutes away. Quinn was doing a steady seventy-five in the middle lane and keeping in the midst of the traffic. No one was keeping to the speed limit. The inside lane was nose to tail, but still doing over seventy, apart from the occasional lorry.

  Walker turned to Kenny as they came to the junction and got him to pass the road map from the back, which he opened on his knee.

  “Take the first left,” Walker said, running his finger down the page to mark their position, “then straight on for a couple of miles and we should come to a roundabout.”

  Quinn was watching the mirror for any sign that they were being followed, but so far there was none. By the time they came to the roundabout he’d started to relax a little.

  “Left here,” Walker grunted, “then there should be a dual carriageway.”

  They followed the dual carriageway for three miles and then Walker told Quinn to turn off. The next ten minutes were spent driving around a built up area, going in and out of a shopping complex and then into two separate housing estates, until Walker was satisfied that they hadn’t been followed and they’d traced a sufficiently complicated route away from the motorway.

  Back at the service station, Musa had walked quickly to the bridge and crossed to the other side. As he did so, he saw that he’d only just made it, as moments later the bridge was closed by two men lifting a temporary barrier into place across the entrance. Musa took Walker’s advice and didn’t wait to see anything else. He hurried to his car, a grey Mercedes parked close to the restaurant complex, got in and drove out of the car park, turning south on the motorway towards London.

  Half an hour later, Walker’s directions had taken the other four well away from the main road until they eventually stopped in a pub car park, where Walker phoned Musa on his mobile phone.

  “Well?” Quinn asked, when he’d finished.

  “He’s on the motorway. He took our advice and left straight away. Says he should be back in London before long. Come on, we might as well have a drink while we’re here.”

  “Are you sure?” Quinn asked in astonishment. “Shouldn’t we get moving?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” Walker replied calmly. “I think we’re better off staying put. If those gun shots had any connection to us or to Musa, then we want to stay well clear of the services, the main roads and of London. At the moment we’re in the middle of nowhere. A place where no one would think of looking for us and I reckon we might as well stay here for a while and let things settle down.”

  Kenny leaned forward from the back seat. “What about that thing in the boot Mr Walker?”

  “That’ll be fine where it is,” Walker replied. “We’ll get a seat near the window so we can keep an eye on it.”

  The pub turned out to offer a good selection of food, the smell of which reminded them that they still hadn’t eaten. The place was obviously popular and was busy. As a result, the four blended easily into the background. Quinn and Walker limited themselves to soft drinks, but having checked with Walker, Kenny and John’O had a pint of the local bitter. Because it was busy, the barman had warned that it would be at least half an hour before their food would be ready, but when it eventually did come, it was good. In all, they must have spent two or three hours there and by the time they left it was after eleven. Sitting about for that length of time had given Walker and Quinn plenty of time to put their heads together to decide their next move. Originally, the plan had been to drive back to London, drop off their two minders and then spend the night in town, before returning to the farm first thing Tuesday morning. However, wh
ether events at the motorway services were linked to them or not, Walker wanted to play safe and not go back to London at all. They decided to drop Kenny and John’O off at the nearest railway station and let them get a train back into London, whilst Walker and Quinn drove back to Henson’s Farm taking the minor roads, rather than the motorway.

  The nearest railway station turned out to be half an hour in the wrong direction, but they decided it was still their best option. Walker produced his wad of £20 notes at the station and peeled off a number, which he handed to Kenny.

  “There you go Kenny. That should cover the train fare and give you both something for this evening.”

  The two got out and Walker and Quinn drove off, leaving them to wait on the platform.

  Now there were just the two of them once more, Quinn knew that Walker would be more comfortable discussing the evening’s events.

  “So what was going on back there?” he asked.

  Walker shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe nothing to do with us at all.”

  “You don’t really think that?” Quinn asked dubiously.

  “No, I don’t. Like I said earlier, it’s too much of a coincidence isn’t it.”

  Quinn glanced away from the road to look at Walker. He didn’t seem in the least concerned.

  “That guy Musa was as surprised as we were, it couldn’t have been his lot.”

  “Maybe not,” Walker agreed. “If we hadn’t got him moving, he’d still be there caught up in the middle of it.”

  “And it couldn’t have been the police,” Quinn continued. “There were no uniforms about except the two who left before things started. Anyway, the place would have been swarming with coppers if it was down to them.”

  “True,” Walker agreed.

  “So that just leaves the Irish or some other Arab connection.”

  “Or both,” Walker said. “Or some other crowd who’re interested in the equipment. Or something else entirely. Who knows? You might just as well stop worrying about it.”