Betrayed (Powell Book 4)

by Bill Ward

  He walked to the station toilets and went into a cubicle, where he removed the yellow jacket. He knew there would be no cameras inside the toilets. He exited the cubicle and stood at a basin, in front of the mirror, pretending to wash his hands. He had only to wait five minutes for a young man of the right stature to enter.

  Powell quickly struck up a conversation and learned the youngster had just arrived to visit a friend and was headed into town. He was planning to stay for a couple of days. Powell explained, he needed help. He thought he was being followed by a private detective, hired by his wife, to discover if he was having an affair.

  The youngster was suspicious at first but gladly accepted the brand new gift and promised to wear it for at least the next hour with the hood up. Powell gave him fifty pounds in cash to cement the deal further. The youngster went off with a large smile and Powell could observe from inside the toilet, as the youngster kept his word and headed in the direction of town wearing the bright yellow jacket.

  Powell waited ten minutes in the cubicle before zipping the black hoody to the top and making sure in the mirror, the hood part was indeed covering his face. He exited the toilets behind a couple of other people and walked towards the platforms at a normal pace, with his face looking downwards. His intention was to keep the police looking in the wrong direction. Hopefully, they would think he was still in Brighton.

  Powell boarded the Gatwick express train and thirty five minutes later was at the airport. He walked to a desk in the arrivals hall, which helped people arriving to find accommodation. He explained his predicament to the woman behind the desk. He needed somewhere to stay locally but not too expensive. She smiled and handed him a list of cheap hotels.

  It took only two calls to find a vacant room. He checked it was okay to pay by cash and that WIFI was available. He received a positive response. Normally, he would have done his hotel research on the internet but his new phone wasn’t a smartphone.

  He took a taxi to the nearby hotel and paid in advance for two nights, which used up one hundred pounds of his funds. Powell registered using the false name on his passport and a false address.

  He stretched out on the bed and gave thought to what he was going to do next. Time was at a premium. He couldn’t expect to avoid the police for too long if he was staying in Sussex. As a murder suspect, the police would be coming after him with all their manpower and resources. He needed to get some concrete evidence to clear his name.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Scott met Inspector Doug Williams at their regular spot. It was dark and Scott had once again been summoned by Doug, an occurrence that was recently becoming too frequent. Doug was too used to giving orders.

  “So have you found Powell, yet?” Scott asked, wanting to take the initiative.

  “No. But that’s probably a good thing.”

  Scott was confused. “I thought the whole point of planting stuff in his car was so he would be arrested and out of harm’s way.”

  “That was before I found out he’s better connected than we realised. We definitely don’t want him to end up in court telling the world what he knows”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Fortunately, serving in the police is a very stressful job. It quite often leads to my fellow officers becoming addicted to alcohol and sometimes leads to a dependency on drugs. I have someone very senior in Scotland Yard who is a regular customer for my product. As a result, he lets me know of anything that might potentially put his supply at risk. Someone at the security services, has put in a request to discover the driver of the car, I used the other night, when I dropped off your product. At the moment that request is sitting on my friend’s desk.”

  Scott was worried. He knew if Doug was ever caught, then he would be next in line. Doug would trade information for a lighter sentence. Coppers didn’t like spending time in jail. They weren’t friends, just business partners, and neither owed loyalty to the other.

  “What are you going to do?” Scott asked.

  “Don’t you mean, what are we going to do. I think we have to assume the request is linked to Powell, given his MI5 connections. Perhaps he followed you the other night when I delivered your product and took down my number plate.”

  “Do you think he knows you’re a police officer?”

  “He must do. A check on the number plate by his friends in the security services would reveal the car is one of ours. Fortunately, the car can’t easily be traced to me. I borrowed it from the pool and there is no paper trail. However, there is CCTV of the car entering and leaving the car park.”

  “Maybe it’s time to get well away from here,” Scott suggested.

  “That isn’t necessary. I will deal with the CCTV. Then we need to deal with Powell… Permanently!”

  “How do we do that? We’ve no idea how to find him. He may already have left the country. That’s what I would do in his place.”

  “He’s communicating with his friends in the security services so I don’t think he’s skipped the country. He will want to prove his innocence. Otherwise, he faces a very long time in jail. We need to draw him out into the open and silence him before he gets a chance to cause more trouble.”

  “And how do you propose we do that?”

  “I have an idea.”

  Scott returned to Tintagel, fighting an urge to pack a few clothes and catch a plane to somewhere hot. He had plenty of money stashed away in various accounts and no pressing reason to stay in England. He didn’t have the career or family ties of Doug. He’d disappeared before and reincarnated himself as the leader of a commune. He would miss the lifestyle but better that than risk ending up in jail. He would make some backup plans just in case he needed to make a fast getaway.

  Powell had found out everything he could about Stuart Brown from the internet, which wasn’t a great deal. There were copies of some of the articles he had written but they were all quite mundane, focused on local affairs. His death was briefly covered and there was a photo of him, taken at his graduation.

  Powell’s thoughts were interrupted by his phone ringing. The only person who had his new number was Brian.

  “Hello again,” Powell answered.

  “So they haven’t caught you yet?” Brian joked.

  “Do you have news for me or are you just ringing because you’re bored?”

  “I just got off the phone from Angela Bennett. She received a call from an anxious Clara Buckingham, asking if she knew how to get hold of you. Angela only had your normal mobile number but Clara said it wasn’t working and she must get hold of you urgently. So Angela called me to see if I knew how to reach you.”

  “Did Clara say what she wanted?”

  “No. Angela said she sounded pretty desperate. Basically, Clara said it was imperative she spoke with you but didn’t tell Angela the detail. I took down Clara’s number and told Angela I would ask you to give her a call. I asked Angela not to mention I know how to get hold of you. She assumed you were in some sort of trouble and said to let her know if there is anything she can do to help.”

  “Give her my thanks and tell her it’s all a misunderstanding, which will be sorted out quite soon.”

  “That’s almost word for word what I said. This phone call from Clara could be the police using her to find you, so be careful.”

  “Give me the number and I’ll call her shortly. She said she would call me after speaking with Hattie.”

  Brian read out the number. “Be careful,” he warned again.

  Powell had the hotel order him a taxi, which took him to the airport. It was a fifteen minute journey but necessary. He walked into the terminal and found a pay phone near the check-in desks.

  “I hear you need to speak with me urgently,” he said when Clara answered.

  “It’s Hattie wants to speak with you. She says she has found out something important and she doesn’t know what to do. She’s afraid and doesn’t know who to trust.”

  “She should speak to the police.”

 
“That’s what I told her but she says she can’t. The police are somehow involved. What does she mean? She wouldn’t tell me.”

  “I have no idea,” Powell lied. He didn’t see any point in adding to Clara’s worries. “Give me Hattie’s number and I’ll call her immediately.”

  “She said not to call but to send her a text of when and where to meet. She isn’t able to speak on the phone while she’s at the house.”

  Powell had forgotten Hattie wasn’t supposed to have a phone while at Tintagel. It could be awkward, at the very least, if she was found to be on the phone. “Okay, I’ll get in contact with Hattie,” Powell confirmed.

  “Will you really? Thank you so much. Please let me know what she says.”

  “I will but if the police ask, you haven’t heard from me.”

  “I quite understand. I will be discrete.”

  As Powell finished the call, he decided he needed some additional help. He needed both more cash and a car to get about. He couldn’t keep using taxis.

  He picked up the phone again and called Brian.

  “How do you fancy a trip to Gatwick airport?” Powell asked.

  “Are you taking me on holiday?”

  “Not exactly. I need you to hire a car for me and a few hundred more in cash would be useful.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Powell had his doubts about meeting Hattie in a layby on a quiet country road, in case it was some form of trap, but equally he couldn’t afford to meet somewhere too public, where he might be spotted by the police. Nothing ventured, nothing gained was in his mind as he drove past the layby in his new BMW, hired by Brian at the airport.

  Powell could see a car parked and what looked to be just one person sitting behind the wheel. He kept driving for a mile but there were no obvious signs of trouble.

  He turned his car around and drove back past the layby one more time, checking there was no imminent danger in the other direction. Finally, having seen nothing to cause concern, he drove to the layby and stopped in front of the saloon car, which he thought was a Japanese make but in the dark, he couldn’t be certain. It wasn’t a car he recognised.

  Powell left his engine running and switched his headlights to full beam. He could see the person in the driver’s seat throw up their hands to shield their eyes from the light. Powell was confident it was Hattie and there was no sign of anyone else in the car. The lights also revealed no one was lurking in the shadows on the side of the road, although there was no guarantee people weren’t hiding in the trees. He switched the lights back to dipped beam and waited. He had no intention of getting out of the car.

  After a minute, Hattie stepped out of the car and peered in his direction, obviously seeking to confirm it was him. He rolled down his window and leaned out his head.

  “Come over here, Hattie. It’s me,” he confirmed.

  She smiled and walked towards his car. She opened the passenger door and sat beside Powell.

  “Thanks for coming,” Hattie said. “I wasn’t sure you would want to meet me.”

  Powell studied her face, looking for hints of betrayal but she smiled broadly and looked him straight in the eye. She was good at acting if this was any form of trap. “I don’t blame you for what happened,” he said, which wasn’t entirely true. He was remaining open minded. “I’m glad you got in contact. I wanted to talk to you.”

  “I heard they let you out on bail. When’s the trial?”

  “Not for several months.”

  “The police interviewed me but I couldn’t tell them anything. I had no idea how the drugs came to be in your car.”

  “Someone planted the drugs and then tipped off the police. Given the trouble I had with Tommy, he’d be my first choice of suspect.”

  “I guess it could be him,” Hattie agreed. “He made no secret of the fact he didn’t like you. You were the first person to stand up to him.”

  “Does Scott keep Tommy on a tight rein? I mean, would Tommy do something like this without Scott knowing?”

  “I’m certain Scott wouldn’t allow Tommy to plant drugs in your car, if he knew what Tommy was planning. Scott isn’t like that.”

  “Maybe,” Powell responded. “He didn’t share Hattie’s certainty.

  “So where are you staying?” Hattie asked.

  “I have a house in Hove.” No need to mention he had no intention of going back there in the near future. He turned off the engine, feeling more relaxed. “I need to ask you something. Why didn’t you say anything to me that day in the car? Your mother had told you why I was at Tintagel.”

  “I’m not sure. I suppose I was trying to find out if you were a real friend or just doing a job. I hoped you would tell me the truth.”

  “Did you tell Scott about me?”

  “Goodness no, he would have made you leave immediately.”

  “Who does the car belong to?”

  “It’s Roger’s. He doesn’t mind me borrowing it from time to time.”

  “Do you know a Stuart Brown?” Powell suddenly asked, hoping to catch her off guard.

  Hattie seemed unfazed by the question. She thought for a moment before replying, “I don’t think so. We had a Stuart at the house for a time but his surname was Green.”

  It took a second for Powell to make the connection. He took the photo from his pocket and showed it to Hattie. “Was this Stuart Green?”

  “Yes. That’s Stuart.”

  “His real name is Brown. He wasn’t very inventive with his name change.”

  “Is he alright?” Hattie asked.

  “He was found dead two weeks ago. He’d been shot by a bullet from the gun they found in my BMW.”

  “My God! That’s terrible. Poor Stuart.” Then a light dawned on her face. “You surely don’t think Scott had something to do with his death?”

  “I don’t know but I think we can assume whoever put the drugs in my car was also responsible for Stuart’s death. How else would they have the gun?”

  Powell could see Hattie was churning the information around in her brain. “This doesn’t make sense. Why would Scott want to kill Stuart? Someone else must be responsible.”

  “I don’t know why Stuart had to die but he was a journalist and may have threatened to publish something, which Scott didn’t want published.

  “Stuart was a journalist?”

  “Yes and I suspect he was planning to write an expose about Scott.”

  Again Hattie was thoughtful. “Perhaps Stuart shot himself,” she suggested.

  “The police believe he was murdered. I’m surprised they haven’t been to the house, to interview you.”

  “Perhaps the police have spoken with Scott. He wouldn’t want to worry the rest of us.”

  “How very considerate of him,” Powell replied sarcastically.

  “Scott’s not a bad man.”

  Powell was sure Hattie had been genuinely shocked by the news of Stuart’s death but she seemed unable or unwilling to link his death to Scott.

  “When was Stuart living at the house?” Powell asked.

  “He was only there about a month. He left a few weeks ago.”

  “Not long before he died. Why did he leave?”

  “Scott told us Stuart decided he felt too isolated. We weren’t entirely surprised. He was always talking about missing the outside world.”

  “And you didn’t know he’d been found dead? It was on the news.”

  “As you know, we don’t really follow what’s going on in the rest of the world. That’s why we come to Tintagel.”

  Powell knew it was quite possible for war to be declared and unless Scott shared the fact, no one else at Tintagel would be any the wiser. “Okay, so why did you want to meet me?”

  “I was in the basement of the house and I heard Scott talking to Tommy. I heard my name mentioned, which was why I didn’t let them know I was there. Tommy was telling Scott, he didn’t trust me. He said I was getting too close to you. Tommy then asked Scott if he could deal with me before I became a pr
oblem. Scott said that wasn’t necessary but to keep an eye on me. He was going to talk to his friends in blue to see if they could do some more checking on you. He didn’t want anything to happen to me before I turned twenty one. When Tommy asked why not, Scott told him I was coming into a large inheritance.”

  “Who are these friends in blue?”

  “Well I assume he means someone in the police but I’ve not met any police friends of Scott.”

  “Why haven’t you just left Tintagel? Why hang around if you feel you could be in danger?”

  “It’s not as easy as that. I’ve already given Scott a lot of money. I never had any intention of giving him my inheritance but based on what Scott said, I’m not in any danger. At least not before my birthday. I know Scott keeps a great deal of cash in his safe. I thought I’d take back what he owes me.”

  “And how exactly would you do that if it’s locked in a safe?”

  “I thought you might be able to help me.”

  When Powell heard the first shot, he instinctively grabbed for Hattie’s arm and pulled her body below the level of the windscreen. “Get down,” he shouted.

  Several further shots broke the silence of the night but whoever was doing the shooting seemed to be a lousy shot as no bullets had entered the car.

  Two people emerged from the trees pointing guns in Powell’s direction but they didn’t immediately fire, which suggested they perhaps weren’t intent on killing him. They obviously weren’t police officers as they had fired without giving any warning.

  Powell turned the ignition key and thrust the car into reverse gear. He was met with the sound of metal grating on the road. They may not have been such bad shots after all. They had decimated the tyres and the wheel rims were scraping on the ground.

  Despite the circumstances, Powell remembered Brian telling him to make sure he returned the car in good condition. He didn’t want to be stuck with a large bill for repairs. He wasn’t going to be happy.

  One of the two shooters ran to the passenger side of the car and yanked open the door.