The Hostage s-1

by Duncan Falconer

  ‘Was the Hoste Arms crowded?’ Bill asked Kathryn.

  Kathryn felt awkward. Not being given anything to reply suddenly seemed odd. She held out the box to him, eager to be rid of it anyway. ‘I think this is for you,’ she said, feeling as if she ought to say something. He took it from her.

  ‘Walk with me, will you?’ he said, and turned to indicate a direction away from the platform entrance, back the way he had just come.

  Aggy watched them walk in front of her. Thankfully, Bill didn’t see her.

  The woman was pretty and quite sophisticated. It suddenly struck Aggy there was something vaguely familiar about the woman. She couldn’t begin to think where, but she was certain she had seen her before. Aggy had only been inside the Lisburn HQ briefly a couple of times on errands for the det. It was possible she’d seen her there, a passing in a corridor perhaps, but she could not recollect. Bill hadn’t kissed her on meeting, which was a clue the relationship was a professional one since Bill kissed just about every woman he met on the cheek whenever he said hello or goodbye. He kissed Aggy’s mother the first time they met and when she blushed he apologised in his charming way, explaining it was a habit he’d picked up in Europe. Apart from a brief exchange of words and the hatbox, Bill and the woman didn’t speak as they walked away.

  Aggy watched until they were out of sight and then continued on her way to platform 9.The one thing niggling her was that Bill’s boss was a he.

  She entered the platform and walked down to the far end and stepped into the last carriage.

  The Chinook circled the Sandringham estate once to identify the landing point before starting on its descent glide path over the dense conifer woods to an open, manicured green. To one side of the touchdown point, near the trees, was a collection of civilian vehicles.

  The rear ramp of the helicopter was already opening as it landed. Singen was first out of the side door and hurried over to the vehicles to talk with several gentlemen waiting to greet him. After a brief exchange Singen looked back at his men coming down the ramp carrying their equipment boxes. ‘The two vans,’ he shouted as the rotors started to wind down. The men shuffled their equipment to the vans and started loading them, the three Americans equally energetic and helping where they could. ‘We’re moving straight out,’ Singen added.

  Stratton stepped from the helicopter carrying one end of a large box, an operative on the other, and put it down outside a van, whereupon it was immediately hauled inside.

  ‘Stratton,’ Singen called out as he walked over to him.

  ‘That’s your vehicle there,’ he said indicating a plain white four-door. ‘Keys are in it. Superintendent,’ he called out to the group of gentlemen. A man in a black suit left them and briskly came over.

  ‘This is Superintendent Allison,’ Singen said. ‘He’s up to speed on the boat, Hank and the bio.’

  Stratton shook the man’s hand and faced Singen again. ‘I’ll head off and do a recce and check on the det people. Let me know as soon as you’ve found a mounting area.’

  ‘Will do,’ Singen said, checking on the vans.

  Stratton faced the superintendent. ‘Where exactly is the boat?’ he asked him getting out his map.

  ‘I’ve got a map already marked out for you,’ the police officer said as he took it from his pocket and opened it out on the bonnet of the car. ‘The boat’s tied up alongside the town quay. Do you know this area at all?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘This is exactly where the boat is.’ The Superintendent indicated a mark circled on the River Ouze that ran north/south along the west side of the town.

  ‘We’re going to need a noose around the boat, at least four hundred metres radius,’ Stratton said. We need to be able to close down the entire area in a second if the situation requires. That’s every road, alleyway, back door, wall, fence, sewer. Airtight.’

  ‘I understand,’ the officer said confidently.

  ‘And they’ll need to be armed,’ Stratton added.

  ‘The armoury’s being emptied as we speak.’

  Stratton nodded, taking a moment to study the map and make sure he’d covered all his immediate needs. ‘Good to have you aboard, sir,’ Stratton finally said to the superintendent as he folded the map.

  The police officer was suddenly flushed with pride, ready to fly to the moon if this lot asked him to. ‘Anything you need, just ask,’ he said.

  Stratton looked around. Everyone was wearing black assault gear under civilian coats, except for him and the three Americans. ‘Lieutenant Stewart,’ he called out. Stewart was helping load a box into one of the vans and looked up to see it was Stratton calling him. Stewart walked over to him.

  ‘What’s your first name?’ Stratton asked.

  ‘Tom.’

  ‘Tom. Get your two guys into black and tooled up. You come with me. We’re gonna do a recce of the boat,’ Stratton said as he grabbed his bag and put it on the back seat of the car.

  Tough as Stewart was, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat jazzed at being invited to accompany Stratton on the initial recce. Not only was it a compliment, it communicated that he and his boys were every bit a part of the team. It was becoming obvious Stratton had a way with soldiers.

  ‘Superintendent. Do you have a card?’ Stratton asked. The Superintendent reached into his pocket and found one. Stratton checked it. ‘I can get you on this mobile number?’ he asked.

  ‘Any time.’

  Stratton climbed into the car. Stewart returned from instructing his men and climbed in beside him. Stratton handed him his own map that he had folded to show the area. ‘We’re there,’ he indicated. ‘Sandringham House.’

  ‘Yeah. Place looks great. Wish I’d brought my camera.’

  ‘We can probably wangle a discount on the tour later. I want to get on to this road, the A149. We’ll take it down to this roundabout here. Knight’s Hill. Then find our way to here, where the boat is. You all set?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Tooled?’

  Stewart opened his coat to reveal a regular cannon: a black, long-barrelled, 20-round 45 Magnum semi-automatic with dewdrop nose recoil stabiliser tightly secured in a quick-release shoulder holster. ‘Fucking Yanks,’ Stratton said, shaking his head with a smirk. ‘Don’t fire that thing at the boat or you’ll sink it.’

  ‘Just let me know,’ Stewart said, grinning for the first time since arriving in England. Stratton started the car and drove across the green on to a road that led to one of the huge ornate gates. Behind him the vans were already starting their engines as the last operative climbed in.

  Twenty minutes later, Stratton and Stewart were standing on the cobbled stone quay, with the old customs house at their backs as they looked towards the southern end of the quay where the Alpha Star was moored. Stratton took a small, flat radio from his pocket, stuck a wireless earpiece inside his ear and clipped a microphone to his sweatshirt, hiding it under his jacket. ‘Let’s see who we’ve got with us.’

  He turned on the radio, set the channel to 4, and put it inside his breast pocket. He faced Stewart and looked at him as if he was talking to him. ‘All stations, this is Stratton. Who’ve we got?’

  There was the familiar sound of the secure communications system kicking in, his words being scrambled, then a voice unscrambling back to him. ‘Hello, Stratton. This is Ed, ’ere.’

  ‘Good to hear you, Ed,’ Stratton said. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘South of target, three fishing boats. I’m on one of ’em.’

  ‘What have we got?’

  Ed was sitting back on the deck of the deserted fishing boat, hidden from view with a pair of binoculars pressed up against his eyes. ‘It’s a good possible,’ he said. ‘I’ve seen one face I think I recognise. Sean McKennen?’

  ‘Of the Warrenpoint McKennens,’ Stratton replied.

  ‘That’s right. He was out on deck just for a moment. ’Ad something bulky under ’is coat. Wouldn’t be surprised if it was an SMG.’

  ‘Any
movement on or off the boat?’

  ‘Not since I got ’ere ’bout twenty minutes ago, but the boat ’ad been alongside a while, I think.’

  ‘Who else we got?’ asked Stratton.

  ‘Bobby’s up on the roof of the corn exchange. Says ’e’s got a good view of the boat deck.’

  ‘Bobby,’ Stratton said. ‘You hear me?’

  ‘Loud and clear, Stratton. This is a good location for a sniper. Can’t see faces too clearly.’

  ‘Roger that. Who else?’

  ‘Take a guess,’ Ed said.‘’E’s on the west bank, in the water, under a fuckin’ sewage pipe covered in shite.’

  ‘’Allo, Stratton,’ came a voice.

  ‘That you, Spinksy?’

  Spinks, wearing a dry-bag and facemask, was tucked into the opposite bank to the boat, in the water up to his chin, some flotsam arranged nicely in front of him, with a dripping sewage pipe above him. ‘It’s me,’ he said.

  ‘What’s that location like?’

  ‘Fuckin’ ’orrible. No one’ll find me ’ere. Got the water side of the boat covered. Nothing’ll come off or on it without me seein’ it.’

  ‘Anything?’ Stratton asked.

  ‘I’m pretty sure that was McKennen too. Saw a bloke on the bridge who looked like he ’ad an SMG. ’Ard to say ’ow many on board. Seen five or six different blokes so far.’

  ‘How long you good for there?’

  ‘Fuck it. All night if you want. Got me flask and a bag a sarnies. ’Ad a piss already. Me right leg’s a bit cold. Might need a shit in a minute, but I don’t need to go anywhere for that, do I? I’m in a sewer.’

  Stratton shook his head.

  ‘When are the super soldiers gettin’ ’ere?’ Ed asked in his usual sarcastic manner.

  ‘Soon.You’ll have at least one in each of your positions, except you, Spinks. You’re on your own.’

  ‘It’s the way I like it,’ said Spinks, as a large, black slimy something or other fell out of the pipe and landed in the water in front of him, splashing his face. He wiped a piece of muck off his facemask and maintained his vigil.

  Stewart did a fine job of acting as if he was in conversation, with a nod here and there.

  ‘We need the police cut-offs and the guys in position asap,’ Stratton said. Lieutenant Stewart nodded automatically, but his mind was on the boat as he studied it over Stratton’s shoulder. ‘I’m talking to you, Tom.’

  Stewart snapped out of his trance-like stare. ‘Right.’

  They started back towards the car when Stratton’s mobile phone vibrated in his pocket. He checked the caller, hit a button and put it to his ear. ‘Yes,’ he said. It was Singen telling him they had located a mounting area in the back of the corn exchange not more than a hundred yards from the boat and that a police officer was waiting for Stratton at the church to guide him in. Stratton told him the police could go ahead and start laying in their invisible cordon.

  Stratton climbed into the car, Stewart the other side. ‘I’ll drop you off at the church where a cop’ll take you into the mounting area,’ Stratton said.

  ‘Where you going?’ Stewart asked.

  ‘The train station. Nothing’s going to happen here for a while and one of my det operatives should be arriving there now.’

  Stratton pulled up in front of King’s Lynn train station and Aggy climbed in.

  ‘Hi,’ she said, offering a slight smile but unable to control a sudden awkward feeling.

  ‘Good trip?’ Stratton asked, at a loss for any other words of greeting.Their previous comments about looking forward to seeing each other hung thickly in the air.

  ‘So, what’s this all about?’ she said, getting down to business.

  ‘A RIRA weapons boat,’ Stratton said. ‘It’s in the town. You know about the Yank who was kidnapped in Paris?’

  ‘He’s on it?’

  ‘Not confirmed but it’s a good possible.’

  ‘And weapons?’

  ‘Unconfirmed,’ he said. Stratton chose not to tell her about the bio. It was still need to know and she didn’t need to. Hank was enough for her to do her job, for the time being at least. If the situation changed she was cleared to hear all the facts, but it was not necessary at the moment.

  ‘Ed, Spinks and Bob are on target. One of our assault teams is in a holding area close to the boat. It’s the usual sit, wait and watch sketch.’

  She nodded. The routine was certainly a familiar one. They drove along a road that wound through the town and led to the quay. Stratton slowed a little as masts came into view in the distance. He noticed two police cars parked in a side street. A glance the other side of the road and he saw another. Aggy was staring ahead and didn’t notice.

  ‘See the fishing boats on the left?’ he asked her.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘They’re left of the target. Ed’s on one of those. We’ll turn right on to the quay and do a pass. The building to the right, at the end, is what we’re calling the corn exchange. M squadron are in the back.’

  They approached the quay and the road turned right on to it. There was only one ship alongside.

  ‘That it?’ she asked.

  ‘The Alpha Star.’

  They drove at normal speed along the quay, passing the boat on their left. Aggy took a quick look, taking in as much information as she could in a few seconds, enough to see there was no sign of life on deck. Until she caught a glimpse of movement on the bridge.

  ‘Spinks is in the water the other side. Bob’s on the roof of the exchange,’ he said as they left the boat behind them and headed along the quay.

  ‘Is the green light up to the ground commander or the gods on high?’ she asked.

  ‘The gods are calling this one. There are complications.’ She glanced at him. That meant there was more to it but she wasn’t in the loop. That was unusual. It was obviously big. ‘What’s my job?’

  ‘For the moment, hang tight with me. If anyone goes foxtrot from the boat you’ll take ’em. We’ve got an armed police airlock in place.’

  Stratton reached the end of the quay where he and Stewart had stood earlier. He turned the corner, parked out of sight from the boat and killed the engine. The sun had already dropped beyond the horizon and lights were coming on in the surrounding houses.

  Pedestrian traffic was light but constant; the main shopping area of Lynn was nearby and the northern end of the quay was a convenient place to park.

  This was all too familiar for them both, parked up in a car, waiting for something to happen, a wait that might last hours. There was almost a skill involved in killing time like that, for hours on end, without looking unnatural. It was obviously much easier for a man and a woman together to remain unnoticed as opposed to two men, if they played the role comfortably, that is. Although a man and woman sitting in the front of a car staring ahead and not talking or touching looked just as conspicuous.

  Stratton placed his arm over the back of Aggy’s seat and leaned closer to her. She leaned a little towards him, his chin close to the side of her face. She could hear his breath and feel his strength, and was reminded of the last - and only other - time they were this close together. How could she ever forget it?

  They were in a car they had backed up a farm track just off a main road that led into Cookstown, Country Tyrone. They were there for most of the night, until three a.m., while a team changed the batteries to a bug the det had placed in a house a couple of years previously. All that time the bug had yielded little information, and now that it was dying, the occupants, who had originally suspected a device of some kind, had seemingly forgotten about their fears and were starting to become chatty. Aggy was the driver on that occasion. If they got wind from the operatives inside the house that something suspicious was happening outside she was to head into the town and drop off her warrior.

  Up until that night she had not thought about him in any kind of amorous way. Indeed, she had found him attractive but he was one of those super soldiers, highly professiona
l and leagues above her mere status of undercover operative - and a green one at that. And besides, everything about him said ‘loner’. But that night something happened to drastically change her feelings towards him, or waken them.

  A car had driven slowly past their front along the road from the town and Stratton put his head close to hers and nuzzled his face into her neck, playing the game. She watched the car slowly head on up the road; but as it moved out of her vision, she was suddenly aware of Stratton in a way and with a sensitivity she had never experienced before with anyone. She inhaled his smell, felt his cheek against her ear, his hair against her face. Something was happening to her. Without warning, she quivered and drew in a slight, sharp breath.

  She remained frozen, refusing to respond further, but her body was screaming out for him to touch her more. Her wish was immediately granted, as if he’d heard, and he moved his other arm around her to hold the side of her face. She was aware he was looking behind her neck, out of the window, monitoring the vehicle’s progress, but still she felt small in his powerful arms, protected. She did not know how long they stayed like that; it might have been minutes or barely seconds. Then the car turned around in the road, its headlights flashing across their front, and headed back towards them. Stratton took Aggy’s face gently with his hand, pulled it towards his, their noses touched and he put his lips against hers. The car slowly passed. They held the kiss, their mouths opening, their tongues finding each other’s. It was only when the car’s lights were almost out of sight and he gently pulled his lips from hers to check it had driven off did she realise her eyes were closed and she’d been holding the side of his face.

  ‘That might’ve been a pass,’ he said, meaning they had possibly just been checked out by the enemy. They stayed close for a while longer, Stratton looking for the car, and Aggy looking at Stratton. She wanted the car to come back.

  She would never forget that moment he kissed her, certain she had felt him quiver as she did. He had been tender and gentle in a way it was hard to believe Stratton capable of. The way he slowly parted his lips from hers at the end of the kiss was as if he too wanted the moment to continue. But when they returned to the detachment in the early hours, before the sun had yet risen, it was as if nothing had happened. He went into the ops room to write his report without even saying goodnight.