‘There is one more caveat on this job – no bodies. We can’t afford the repercussions.’
The way Sean looked at it there were two possibilities. Either Ben was on the run because his cover was blown, or he was dead. If he was dead Sean could return home straight away. If he was still alive things would be a little trickier, but even so finding and escorting a mate back to the UK shouldn’t be too big a problem. But there always was that little word ‘should’.
‘I’ll go’ said Sean. ‘But on one condition - you keep everyone out of my way. Once I get going I don’t want to stop until I’m back in the UK.’
Lomax glanced at Andrews and saw a minute nod of satisfaction. Lomax looked at his watch again and stood up. ‘Good. Well if that’s all, I’ve a plane to catch. Wish me luck.’
Sean shook hands. ‘Good luck Lomax. I’ll need some too.’
Lomax smiled. ‘You make your own luck.'
When Sean and Lomax reached the door Andrews called out in a hoarse voice, ‘Lomax, I need a word before you go.’
Lomax turned to Sean. ‘You go on. We’ll be in touch tomorrow.’
Sean closed the door gently behind him.
Chapter 3
Andrews beckoned Lomax back into the room. ‘I know Sean’s preference is to work alone, but I think you should have a computer specialist standing by.’
Lomax shook his head. ‘It’s not just Sean - I don’t want to watch over some computer nerd who doesn’t know how to look after himself. Why do you think it’s so important?’
‘Because’ rasped Andrews ‘we think they have developed a communications technology which can remotely command a small nuclear powered submarine from just about anywhere in the world. HM Gov would like a look-see at the technology.’
Lomax cleared his throat. ‘How much are they willing to risk?’
‘The government wants access to this technology badly enough to risk breaking the special relationship’ Andrews replied with a grimace.
Lomax thought for a moment. ‘If the Americans are already on to Campbell then we may have done just that’ he observed.
‘That may be the case. But I don’t think it’s happened yet. If his cover was blown we would know by now. The line between Washington and London would be incandescent.’
‘They might know and want to keep it to themselves’ ventured Lomax.
‘They might just be playing a game’ Andrews conceded. ‘All the more reason you need to take care. Just get Campbell - or his information - out any way you can. If your computer guy can get a line into this new sub, so much the better. We'll deal with the repercussions later.’
‘Fine. And if we are compromised?’
Andrews pulled a face. ‘You already know the answer to that. You and Sean are expendable. If push comes to shove, as the Americans say, then you will be disowned. Use the legend we’ve created for you. If you are compromised and can’t get Ben out, then get everyone else out.’
‘Hello, I’d like to speak to Natasha Moore?’ The voice was clear and authoritative.
‘Yes’ said Natasha guardedly. ‘Who is this?’
‘Glenda Hadlett, Jordon Hospital. I’m the admissions duty nurse. I’m sorry to disturb to you so early but do you know a Ben Campbell?’
‘Yes’, she hesitated. ‘He works with me.’
‘I’m sorry to tell you that Mr. Campbell was involved in a road accident last night.’
Natasha sat down abruptly. ‘Oh God, tell me how is he?’
‘I’m afraid the injuries Ben sustained were quite bad. It was a road accident and we’re doing our best for him. He’s in intensive care and he is stable at the moment, but that could change at any time. I’m sorry to break such bad news in this way. Do you know if he has any relatives?’
Natasha tried hard to recall. ‘No, I don’t think he has any here – all his family are in England.’
‘Oh. I don’t suppose you have a contact number for them?’
‘I’m afraid I don’t – I don’t know Ben’s family at all.’
‘We found an envelope with your name on it’ continued the nurse. ‘It was inside his jacket but there was no address. I’ve been ringing all the Moore’s in the phone book. It’s taken us half a hour.’
‘Could I come in to see him?’
‘You won’t be able to while he’s in the intensive care unit. But you can come over and wait if you want.’
Natasha gripped the phone tightly. ‘Of course, I’ll be right over.’
Her thoughts were flying all over the place. She called her boss Stan to let him know and headed for the door. Less than an hour later she found the hospital and parked in the adjacent car park. It was still dark but she remembered the red brick building, having passed it the first time she came to Plymouth.
At the reception desk she asked the nurse if she could see Ben. She checked her computer screen and her face tightened a little. ‘I’m afraid he is very ill. Has anyone told you about the extent of his injuries?’
‘No - all I know is that he was involved in a hit-and-run accident. The nurse who called said I could come over.’
The Nurse looked at Natasha sympathetically. ‘You might have to wait a long time. He’ll be in intensive care for the next 24 hours at least.’ The Nurse checked a cubby hole behind the desk. ‘We found a letter addressed to you.’ She fished out a transparent polythene bag. Natasha could see an envelope inside. When the Nurse handed it to her she recognised Ben’s writing on the front. There was just her name, underlined in a blue pen. Natasha stuffed it into her handbag.
‘Which room is he in?’ she enquired. ‘I’d like to go and see.’
The Nurse came around the counter and led Natasha down the corridor before turning left. They came to a room with the blinds partially pulled down. Natasha could make out Ben’s form through the slats. She saw tubes coming into and away from his body and there were several machines arranged around the bed monitoring key respiratory indicators. His head and the arm and leg on his left side were completely encased in plaster bandages.
The Nurse hesitated. ‘Are you OK? There is a restaurant on the floor above if you need something to eat, or there are some chairs down the corridor if you want to sit and wait.’
‘I’ll be fine, thank you’ said Natasha and she turned to peer through the window.
Sean’s first stop was the accounts department where they had the usual pile of forms. The one at the top required him to confirm he would return all unused expenses. Tucked in amongst the paperwork, as if an afterthought, was a copy of his will. Attached was a form confirming he wanted no changes which needed to be countersigned by a witness. In this case it was a pretty blond cashier who was no older than nineteen. He could tell when the girl had read the last section because she looked up with an embarrassed stare.
A sheaf of roses to be placed on Katherine's grave on 15th May each year.
She said quietly ‘Please God it will never come to that but if it does I’ll make sure it happens.’ She picked up the pen, signed the form and tucked it back into the file.
Next stop was the armoury in the basement. Although he never checked out a gun Sean rarely passed up an opportunity to practice. He never brought a gun on a mission for the simple reason that the airline industry was far too sensitive about passengers carrying weapons. After landing in the US obtaining any hardware he wanted would be easy. But having a gun was no good if you couldn’t shoot straight.
The armourer on duty was Hamish on his second secondment from the Army. Sean had heard that when Hamish and Murdoch went out for a beer it rarely stopped at six. Hamish was one of the few people Sean knew who wore a moustache. He was painfully thin and had a prosthetic leg, courtesy of a land mine in Bosnia.
‘Evening young man’. Hamish called all his recruits young men.
Sean asked Hamish for a selection of four handguns and three automatic machine guns. He picked up the first, a heavy looking Browning automatic and pushed a clip into it. He fired off four rounds
before finding form. When Hamish pressed the button the cardboard target whizzed down and showed the second group was indeed much closer than the first. Sean removed his ear muffs - Hamish always had some advice to give.
‘Take more time with your first shot, you’ll find the rest will tend to follow the first.’ Hamish spoke with a Glaswegian accent.
‘I know Hamish, but I usually have to be quick with all of them.’
Sean moved on to the other handguns and practised with them for the best part of an hour. Then he signed for all the guns and ammunition he had used.
The last place Sean visited was documentation because they took longest to produce. He was given a driver’s licence and various store and credit cards. He was also given a small net book computer and an encrypted memory stick. The files on the stick detailed his cover from the very first school he attended. In particular it listed the dates and times when Ben had visited the UK, where he had gone and copies of all the emails between Ben and the Section. Sean could read them on the plane, then run a special program that would completely remove the information on the stick.
The elderly lady behind the desk handed him a passport and a printed sheet containing his ESTA reference permitting him to travel to the States. She gave him a perfunctory smile. That, Sean thought to himself, was the best ‘au revoir’ he could expect from the Section.
While leafing through the paper Sean was able to observe a large section of the hallway from his vantage point in the cafe at Logan airport. There was a strong visible police presence. Sean observed that they made no effort at all to hide the hardware they were carrying.
He tagged two undercover cops. The first was a cleaner who seemed more interested in scratching his right ear and leaning on a broom than using it to clean the floor. The giveaway was an almost invisible wire which ran from his ear, down the back of his neck and into his overalls. The second was an older lady who worked in the florist stall. She sat on a stool behind the counter. Only the younger girl served the customers, even when there was a queue.
He finished his coffee and made his way to the car hire counter. He always chose a car in the medium to large class purely because the extra horse power just might one day save his life. Besides, he liked to have a solid engine block in case of a head-on collision. He was given a Chevrolet Impala.
He didn’t look round as he passed Lomax but went straight for the car park. When he found the car he slung his suitcase in the boot then sat for 5 minutes in the front seat, scanning the environment before making for the exit.
Around an hour and a half later he parked at the hotel in Falmouth, a country style two story resort Inn. After checking in Sean went straight to his room and started to unpack. Twenty minutes later there was a knock on the door and he opened it carefully. He let Lomax in and locked the door behind him.
‘Any ticks?’ enquired Sean.
‘None’, replied Lomax. ‘Did you see anyone follow me?’
‘Nope’, said Sean. ‘What about this place?’
Lomax removed a black plastic gadget from his pocket that looked very much like a battery tester. Checking the room and the bathroom for listening devices took less than two minutes.
‘It’s clean’ Lomax announced.
‘Like a drink?’
They made their way downstairs. While Lomax was getting the drinks Sean used the opportunity to look around and check out the clientele. Amongst several couples there were one or two well dressed men and women drinking alone. Lomax brought back a scotch for Sean without asking. Sean noticed Lomax’s glass contained nothing stronger than sparking water. That set the little cells ticking, but now was not a good time to ask Lomax about it.
‘What was your little tête-à-tête with Andrews about?’ Sean enquired.
‘Just some last minute updates for me.’
Lomax was making it quite plain he didn’t want to talk about it thought Sean. ‘Nothing I need to know then?’ He was pushing it.
Lomax turned to look at Sean. ‘Nothing you really need to know about, just a conversation about whether the Americans are already on to Campbell.’
Sean could see he would get no more out of Lomax. He changed the subject. ‘Have you made contact yet?’
‘Not directly’ replied Lomax. ‘I should have some info early tomorrow morning. In the meantime I suggest you grab some sleep.’
Lomax was true to his word. At 5:10 am he knocked on Sean’s door.
‘I’ve found him, but it’s bad news. A contact in the FBI told me that Ben was involved in a road accident. When I rang the hospital they told me he’d collided with an oncoming car. He was taken in with head injuries, ruptured spleen, broken ribs and a broken wrist and leg. The hospital contacted the girlfriend, a Miss Natasha Moore. She’s there now.’
‘Have you any info about her?’
‘She also works with Ben. Apparently she’s their resident expert on digital navigation and guidance packages – whatever that means.’
Sean started pulling clothes on. ‘It looks like we’re already too late’ he said sadly.
Less than an hour later Sean walked towards the ward where Ben was lying. Approaching the room he saw an attractive woman in her early thirties asleep on a chair in the corridor. Her head lay on a cushion, long dark hair spilling over and partially covering her face.
Sean guessed this was Natasha Moore. Not wanting to disturb her he looked through the window into the room beyond. He wasn’t able to tell at first if the person lying on the bed was Ben. Too much of his face was obscured by bandages. But there was something about the chin and the jaw that was familiar.
‘Are you a relative?’
Sean turned. She was sitting up. She had dark eyes and black hair framed an oval face. Her eyes looked a little puffy with sleep.
’No, just an old friend. I’m sorry to disturb you.’
‘Oh that’s OK’. She waved the apology away. ‘I’m Natasha, a friend of Ben’s.’
Sean leaned over to shake her hand.
‘I’ve been popping into hospital since I heard he was involved in a hit-and-run accident.’
‘It came as a shock to me’ replied Sean. ‘I’ve only just got in from England.’
‘Did Ben know you were coming - he didn’t say anything to me?’
‘Not really’ replied Sean. ‘He emailed an invitation some time ago. I happen to be here on business, and I thought I’d stop by to see him.’
Sean looked towards the ward reception. ‘The nurse said I would have to wait for one of the doctors to give me an update. I wondered if you know anything. How serious are his injuries?’
Natasha’s gaze slid to the floor. ‘Originally they said he might not make it’ she said quietly. ‘But he’s improved since and they’ve just moved him out of intensive care – so I suppose that’s a good sign.’
‘I see’ said Sean. He glanced down the corridor towards an approaching doctor.
The young man was wearing a white coat and had a stethoscope slung around his neck. He looked enquiringly at the pair. Sean introduced him and Natasha and asked the doctor about the accident.
‘I’m afraid I don’t know much about that, except he met a car head-on. His injuries are extensive but he has been stable for the last few hours, so you can go in to see him.’
‘Oh’ said Natasha. ‘The nurse said no-one was allowed to see him for another 24 hours?’
‘Never mind the nurses’ replied the doctor. ‘Sometimes they are a bit too protective. You can go in, but don’t stay long – no more than 5 minutes. I’m afraid he won’t be able to speak, he’s still under sedation.’
The room was lit by a dim overhead night light. Natasha went around the far side and took Ben’s hand in hers. Sean glanced around the small room which contained a chair and mobile bedside table. There was a TV and radio console, a window which looked out onto a lighted pathway, and a door which lead to an en-suite bathroom.
Sean turned back to the bed. He could see the regular rise and fall of
the sheets as Ben breathed. But there was no indication he was aware of Natasha’s presence. A steady soft bleep came from the monitors. They stood in silence for some minutes.
‘Natasha’ Sean said softly. ‘You look worn out. Why don’t you go home and get some sleep. I’ll stay on for a while and let you know if anything happens.’
Natasha released Ben’s hand and sighed. ‘You’re right, I am exhausted. Thanks – here I’ll let you have my number.’ She wrote it on a piece of paper and handed it over. ‘It’s very kind of you.’
He followed her to the corridor to say goodbye. When she was out of sight he went back into Ben’s room, detecting the lingering scent of her perfume. Coming straight after Ben’s signal to the Section the accident could not be a coincidence - particularly the hit-and-run aspect. And once they realised he was still alive the opposition might come back for him.
Sean pulled out a pair of surgical gloves and slipped them on before making straight for the en-suite bathroom. Leaving the door slightly ajar, he could see the door from the corridor into the room and the partly obscured corridor window, but not the bed itself. He looked around and saw a bath with a shower unit fixed above it. There was a toilet, wash hand basin and mirror, and a window which opened outward onto the lawn.
He didn’t have long to wait.
He heard the door open and glimpsed the portly figure of a nurse as she bustled into the room. He could hear the rustle of her uniform as she moved about, presumably checking the instruments and making sure the patient was comfortable. Sean peeked through the crack in the doorway. He could see her back as she wrote up her notes. After she finished she replaced the clipboard and left.
Sean waited. He was prepared to wait all night if necessary but he didn’t have to. Nearly twenty minutes later the doctor they had met earlier entered. Sean was starting to think how efficient and well run the hospital was, when he sensed the stillness. He listened intently but he couldn’t hear the doctor moving around.
Sean slowly opened the door wider to see the doctor leaning over the bed, putting his whole weight onto the pillow over Ben’s chest and face.
Silent Warpath (Sean Quinlan Book 1) Page 3
