by J. D. Weston
“Observe and report, sir.”
“Excellent, keep me informed at all times. Where’s Stone?”
“We believe he is heading to the farm, sir.”
“Is he going to blow this whole thing apart?”
“No, sir. I do not think he is. He had the opportunity to finish Mr Brayethwait and chose to leave him for me to find. I think he knew that it would buy him time.”
“What’s the plan, Mills? Once Stone goes in you’ll need to go live.”
“Sir, we need to get Brayethwait to a police station so he can be formally charged under the correct procedure. If we drive him around in the van all day, his lawyer will kick up a fuss.”
“Okay, where’s the nearest station? Where are you now?”
“We’re heading our of Epping, we are in pursuit of Stone, however, Tenant has him on screen so we can keep an eye on him. I suggest we take Mr Brayethwait to Chigwell, sir. We can be back on Stones trail pretty quickly after that.”
“Okay, Mills. I’ll call ahead so they’re expecting you. I look forward to your next report.”
"Yes, sir."
"Oh, and Mills?"
"Sir?"
"Work with Stone. Watch him. If he let this Brayethwait guy live, maybe he'll leave us some more crumbs. Hole up and observe."
"Yes, sir."
Carver disconnected.
"Chigwell nick, Denver. Let's get rid of this guy."
They took the drive out to Chigwell and found the police station quiet. A desk sergeant greeted Melody with a half-smile. The paperwork was ready for her to sign, and Barnaby Brayethwait was led off to start a new life behind bars, his head hung low in shame.
Melody climbed back into the van. "Sitrep, Reg?"
"Okay, so Harvey drove straight past the farm, into Loughton, then turned around and went straight back. He is currently inside the barn."
“He’s inside?”
“That’s what LUCY says.”
“He’s crazy.”
“Find us a spot we can hole up in. Somewhere close by.”
"Got it, I found the perfect place. Denver, let's go," said Reg, rearranging his chair now that Brayethwait had been removed. "Mills, let's pick up some snacks or something. Last time we holed up, all we had was petrol station food."
"Shame you don't have a stove back there, you could cook for us as well."
"You wouldn't want my cooking, Melody, but I do make a mean cheese sandwich."
"A cheese sandwich? That's literally just cheese, bread and butter."
“Yep.”
“And what is it that you do differently to the rest of the planet that makes your particular cheese sandwich worthy of the mean award?”
“Get me to a store, and I’ll show you.”
“Denver, you heard the man, let’s find a mini-mart or something, then hole up. Reg, how’s our man doing?”
“He’s still inside, I need eyes on the building though.”
“It’ll be too risky in the daylight, I can do a recce when the sun goes down, maybe fix a camera to watch the door.”
"Ah, we'll see," said Reg, "I may be able to help there."
The three drove past the entrance to the farm and Melody looked up the track as they went by.
"There's two cars there. The blue BMW and an SUV. He's not alone."
Denver took the next right. It was a small dead end that led into some fields, but the foliage around the lane offered plenty of cover for the van. It was an ideal spot away from prying eyes.
“What’s he doing? You don’t think he-”
“No, I don't think he’s in there tearing the place up. I think that SUV belongs to our friend, Jamie Creasey, and Stone is taking notes, and waiting for his brother to arrive.”
“Foster brother,” Reg corrected.
“Okay, so maybe I can cut through this field in front when it’s dark, and plant a few bugs on the outside. If we can capture audio, we can build up the case from there.”
“Why don’t we just put a camera on the front door? Then we can see people going in and out.”
“That’s fine, Reg. Why don’t I sneak carefully through the field and plant the audio bugs while you take a stroll up the front drive and install a camera? They might even make you a cup of tea if you ask nicely.”
“Nah, I prefer to work at my desk, you know me. However, have I introduced you both to Sneaky-Peeky?”
Denver turned in his seat, “What are you talking about, Reg?”
“Sneaky-Peeky, Denver.” Reg lifted a modified radio controlled challenger tank with over-sized tracks and a camera in the place of the turret. “See? It peeks, while it sneaks.” The lifelike scale model of the tank was two feet long and weighed just fifteen kilos.
“No,” said Melody, “too risky.”
"Ah, come on. You haven't even seen the best bit. Reg reached down into one of his sports bags. "I'm still working on this, but I think it'll save millions of lives."
"Millions of lives?"
"Well, yours at least, Melody, but we have to start somewhere." He pulled out an elasticated olive-green scrim net that fit perfectly over the tank without getting caught on the over-sized tracks. It had a hole in exactly the right place for the turret cam. "See, we can just stuff a load of grass under this, and drive slowly. Slowly is the key to stealth remember. If we go tear-assing up the drive with this, it'll be spotted a mile off, but sneaking isn't about going fast. Sneaking is about being sneaky isn't it?" He looked proud of himself. "Hey? Come on, it’s brilliant and you know it."
Reg slid the open top of the VW, and let the chill into the van. He stuck a magnetic antenna on the roof and extended it as high as its telescopic sections would allow, then connected the cable to a VHF port on his computer’s network card. He opened the back door, pulled up some grass from behind the van and began tucking it under the netting.
"Sneaky-Peeky reporting for action, ma'am," said Reg, mimicking a soldier.
Melody smiled at Denver who was shaking his head and holding back a grin, "At ease, soldier."
The silver BMW SUV drove past the dead end lane where they were parked, heading away from the farm.
"That was the car in the farm, the SUV. I'm sure of it," said Melody.
"So Harvey is in there alone?" asked Denver, "Shall we go get him?"
"No, Frank just wants us to observe. Harvey will do one of two things. He'll be on her tail, if that is indeed Jamie Creasey, or he'll hightail it out of there and wait for Donny Cartwright. My money’s on the latter."
Melody cracked the window.
"How are we going to know if we can’t see the driveway?" asked Reg.
"Shh," said Denver, "that's the sound of a BMW M3." They heard the distant engine in the quiet countryside.
"How do you know that?" asked Reg disbelievingly.
"Shh," Denver hushed him again, "unmistakable. Definitely an M3." The engine noise faded away.
"Looks like he's gone to find Donny. Reg, how’s he doing?" asked Melody.
Reg glanced up at the screen from where he stood at the rear of the van tinkering with the tank. “Yeah, he’s on the move.”
“Reg, how close does the tank need to be?”
"I'd say two or three hundred yards, but one hundred would be better. It has a seventy to three hundred mil lens and will capture 4K video at thirty frames per second."
"Okay, get that tank into position, I don't know how long this window will be."
"Roger that."
8
Old Faces
Harvey lay still behind the fence. He flexed his feet and fingers to keep the circulation going. The cold ground made his clothes damp and uncomfortable, but he'd waited for longer in far worse conditions. He'd once stood in a park near Stratford in the freezing cold snow for an entire day, waiting for a known sex offender who had been released from prison. Harvey had watched him over several weeks, and found no pattern at all in his timings, but he took the same route whenever he walked his dog. Harvey had bit the bu
llet and waited from the dark morning to the dark evening before the man finally came along. Harvey had done what he needed to do, and then took the man’s confused dog to a vets.
A large Bentley Continental turned its broad, elegant nose into the long driveway and drove slowly along the track. Its large wheels managed the potholes with ease and eventually, it took a wide circle to park alongside Donny's Mercedes.
The driver got out. He was a short Japanese man whose horizontal frown matched his unsmiling mouth. He walked to the passenger door and opened it like it was second nature, offering the passenger a curt and discreet bow as he climbed out.
"Thank you, Hiroki-San." The driver returned to the vehicle and climbed back into the sleek car.
The barn’s single door opened, and the large man stepped out. He was a man who looked like he was always ready for a fight. He looked questioningly at the small Japanese man who stood in front of him. Jamie Creasey slipped out of the door and beside Bruno, “Ah, Mr Narakimo, how are you, sir? Did you find us okay?” She had the ability to please people, she was a saleswoman.
"Come in, please," she continued, "we have the girls ready for you. Have you travelled far?"
“I have a modest house in Ongar,” said the Japanese man, “I use it when I am in London. I do very much enjoy the English countryside.” His English was very clear with no sign of his Japanese heritage.
Jamie and the Japanese man stepped inside. Bruno glanced around the area, which was growing dark, and pulled the door closed behind him.
The driver remained in the car. This was an issue for Harvey. He needed to get close, but couldn't arouse suspicion. Making a mental note of the number plate, he worked his way along the fence until he was out of sight of the cars behind the barn. He swiftly jumped over the wooden fence, being careful not to disturb the grass that grew naturally underneath the wooden cross beams; that would leave a sure sign that someone had been there.
Harvey stepped up to the rear of the barn. There were no windows, no doors and no gaps in any of the wooden panels that clad the old building. There were also no visible cameras. The security had been tight on the inside and at the front, but anyone could stand at the rear.
He put his ear to the wall and listened. Nothing. Harvey stopped and thought. The Japanese man would likely want the most privacy, so stable one would probably be his room of choice. Harvey judged the distance and listened to the wall. Nothing. The thick wood absorbed any sound from inside. Harvey stepped back to look up at the roof. Perhaps there was a way in, but he couldn't recall seeing a skylight. His foot sank into soft soil, much softer than the ground he had been stood on.
He glanced around him and noticed the patch of ground where he stood had all been freshly dug. The darker patch of earth was roughly eight feet by four feet and not symmetrical or neat. It was the hole of somebody who had used a small rental digger but hadn't quite mastered the skills.
At least one more body would be buried tonight, thought Harvey, then crept back to the fence and jumped over. He dropped to the ground and crawled slowly back to his original position. No change in the scenery.
Harvey planned.
The Japanese man would leave. Harvey imagined it would be Bruno who dug the hole. Donny wouldn't carry out manual labour himself. Harvey’s plan all depended on who left the farm first. Jamie or Donny.
Harvey laid beneath the fence that ran behind the farm. He had a clear view of the long driveway, the side of the barn where the doors were, and the fence that ran fifty metres adjacent to the track, connecting the road to where Harvey laid.
Movement caught his eye. Dusk was fading to darkness and shadows had a habit of playing tricks on the mind. He watched the area of wasteland between the track and the fence. Someone or something was moving towards the barn, but he couldn't quite place the position. Each time he looked, the area looked slightly different. Something was out of place.
He checked his own surroundings. Maybe the team were closing in. That would only leave Melody. The other two clowns wouldn't stand a chance of not getting caught.
He glanced back at the waste ground. Something moved. Just fractionally. Harvey locked onto it. It was small and covered in grass, which had made it hard to spot. He moved along the fence until he was in line with it, then jumped over into the waste ground. He had seen the view of the cameras and was sure that camera one didn't reach any further than the cars. He crawled over to the movement and came up behind it. It was a radio-controlled tank.
Reg.
He smiled.
Harvey crawled up behind the tank. He heard the soft whir of the tiny motors that operated the turret. He pulled back and returned to his spot. Occasionally he glanced at the tank. It sat completely camouflaged in the long grass.
Less than two hours after the Japanese man had entered the building, the door opened once more, and he stepped out into the cold night. The lights from inside lit the ground around him. He had on a business suit. No tie. A knee-length Kashmir coat and a long silk scarf. Donny and Jamie stepped outside with him.
"Well, I hope the experience lived up to your expectations, Mr Narakimo."
The man paused and looked around into the darkness. "Yes, Mr Cartwright, it most certainly did. It was a…" he sought the word, "thrilling experience."
"I am pleased, and did Anna accommodate your needs?" asked Jamie.
"What if I said no, Ms Creasey? How would you punish her?" he offered a cruel grin.
"Well, I was just seeking feedback for future experiences, Mr Narakimo," said Jamie, sheepishly defending her statement.
“I can assure you both that I am more than capable of providing adequate feedback.” He smiled. “I like the set up here. It could be more elegant, but I think the primitive decor rather matches the offering.”
“Thank you, Mr Narakimo. We’re actually planning on expanding, perhaps we can offer you a return visit?”
The little Japanese man laughed. “Please do not offer me a coupon. It’s not a coffee shop.”
Donny smiled warmly. "No, Mr Narakimo, but for valued clients such as yourself, we could perhaps improve the value you receive. As we get to know you more, we can tailor the experience. You may find your tastes develop each time."
"Ah, Mr Cartwright, you have a head for business. I shall return. Do you mind if I bring guests?"
"Of course not, Mr Narakimo. But please do give us advance warning. We'd like to ensure that each of our clients has choice and, as you can imagine, we do like to make sure that our operation remains a safe and discreet place for us all."
Mr Narakimo nodded, "Mr Cartwright. Miss Creasey. Good night."
The Japanese man made his way to his car. His driver must have been listening as the driver's door opened the moment Mr Narakimo said the words good night.
The Bentley moved off and made its way back along the long, bumpy driveway. A satisfied customer sat inside.
"Bruno, let’s go, we have a hole to dig," Donny called and clapped his hands.
Harvey remembered Donny's whiny voice from his childhood. Donny would use the same tone to call his father, John, when Harvey had done something wrong. "Dad, Harvey broke the window." Or “Dad, Harvey won't do what I tell him to." John hadn't risen to the whines of his spoiled son and had often turned the information on Donny himself. A life of crime had hardened John to grasses or informers, and he had tried his best to ensure that his own son didn't become one.
Donny hadn't grown up to become a grass or informer. He had learned the lessons, but he still had the traits of a man who led a very wealthy childhood and had never gone without.
Harvey had never gone without either, not in monetary terms, John had seen to that. But he had lost his sister at a young age, because of Donny, which made his foster brother the last man on Harvey's list. His time was growing near.
Harvey had also never fully been told about his parents. John had always said that he and his sister had been found in John’s bar. Harvey had been in a hamper with a blanket. His
elder sister, Hannah, sat beside him.
John's wife, Barb, had wanted to adopt them, having only one child of their own. And so Harvey and Hannah's discovery had not been reported to the authorities. Instead, they had been driven back to the family house where, over time, the life of money and crime had become a way of life for Harvey. For Hannah, it had become the end. The desires of John's closest men had proved too much for the teenager.
Harvey had vowed for her vengeance, and was closing in on his final target.
The sound of the mini-digger’s diesel engine starting up broke Harvey’s thoughts. He checked his surroundings. The tank was still sat in the long grass. Jamie had gone back inside, her car was on the driveway. Donny was stood outside and the two large sliding doors screeched open allowing Harvey a clear view of the inside. The bright lights that hung in the eaves of the barn shone unnaturally onto the ground outside. Harvey checked the tank. He couldn’t see it, but he knew it was there. From where Donny stood, it would just look like a clump of long grass. It was, however, moving slowly backwards, Reg had obviously thought the same thing about the lights.
Sitting in the small seat of the digger was the massive frame of Bruno. He looked ridiculous, like he was using a toy. He pushed two levers, and the tracks began to roll forwards out the barn with a loud grumble that reverberated through the ground to where Harvey sat. Bruno steered the heavy digger out of the barn and turned right around the corner to the rear of the barn, where Harvey had stood an hour before and found the soft ground.
The diesel engine revved angrily and filled the night. The two lights fixed to the top of the cab swung above Harvey as the machine passed by where he lay. The diggers engine was turned off, and Harvey heard Bruno starting the job with a shovel.
Donny picked up one of the plastic sheets from the floor and dragged it open. He positioned it directly in front of the doors in Harvey's direct sight, and in front of the tank that sat patiently amongst the long grass.
Once the plastic sheet was pulled out, Donny stood in the open and breathed in the fresh air. Jamie joined him.
"It's so peaceful out here," she said, alerting him to her presence.
