by Tom Benson
“We continue,” Rachel said, “and monitor for a while?”
“Yes,” Phil said. He turned to Annabel. “Tomorrow, I’ve got loose ends to tie up. I’d like you to take Jake out to Helensburgh, and work your combined magic on the house in Cove.”
“I’ll give him a call later to organise whatever he needs. I’ve got a new compact digital camera I’ll take along.”
“Okay,” Phil said. “Thursday is going to be tight on time.” He went over the day’s activities and looked from one to the other. He repeated the sequence for the day and asked them both questions about their roles. All was clear.
As she always did, Rachel poked holes in the two main jobs but was reassured by Phil on the countermeasures to be used.
Phil said, “On Thursday evening, I will be going to Helensburgh with you Annabel. I have a special package I want to drop off for our sailor friend, and I’d like you as back-up.”
“Should we use my car?”
“Yes, please. At the moment nobody has any reason to be looking for yours.”
Rachel said, “Apart from missing out on trips to the seaside on Wednesday and Thursday, do I have anything in particular lined up over the weekend?”
“I’d like you on standby please Rachel,” Phil said. “I’d also like Jake on standby.”
Annabel said, “I’ll brief him about the weekend when he’s with me tomorrow.”
“This probably isn’t the time to ask ....” Rachel hesitated.
“Go on,” Phil said. “What’s on your mind?”
“These past weeks have been exciting. What happens after this weekend?”
“You mean—is it all over after we get the Godfather collared?”
“Yes,” she said. “Do I give back my big yellow bike?”
Annabel said, “We both believe there will be more to do after this mission. Neither of us wants this team to end, and we don’t think you should make any holiday plans yet.”
“As long as I perform and you have funds, we go on?”
“An eloquent way of putting it,” Phil said, “and the bike is yours, whatever happens.”
“You pay for my food and fuel, and I’ll do the job for nothing.”
Annabel reached out and placed a hand on Rachel’s thigh.
Rachel briefly placed her hand on Annabel’s hand, grinning.
In the Divisional HQ at Pitt Street, Davenport received a phone call late in the afternoon. It was brief, with a simple instruction. The most challenging part for Davenport was to think of a reason for the conversation in the station car park.
Davenport was standing near his car at 18:00 when Amy was leaving the station, and she would be compelled to walk past him.
Davenport called, “Constable Hughes, I apologise if I was on edge when you were in my office. As you’ll appreciate, pressure is being brought to bear because of recent events.”
“It’s fine, Sir,” Amy said. “I thought I was doing somebody a favour, but—”
“No,” he interrupted her and reached out to place a hand on her arm. “I am sorry. I should have known it was no more than you helping somebody out.”
“Good night, Sir,” she said.
“Good night, my dear.” Davenport wasn’t a tactile person, at least around the female officers, but he touched her arm when he spoke to her. Davenport stayed beside his car for a few minutes, gazing at the passing pedestrians, and the cars parked along the nearby street. Had the signal been seen? He wasn’t sure.
As Amy walked away from the station, a man in a silver 4 x 4 parked nearby, eased out into the traffic.
23. Intelligence
.
Wednesday 24th July
Phil parked near Mike’s bike store. It was 08:30, and beautiful bikes were already on display on either side of the wide doorway. The early morning sun glinted on the chrome work, and the sound of a local radio station boomed out from the workshop cum sales floor. Hits of the Seventies were being revisited.
“Hi Mike,” Phil said and shook the ex-Commando’s hand.
“You haven’t come for a bike, have you?”
“No mate,” Phil said, “I’m looking for help with a special task.”
“Got time for a brew?”
Phil nodded and followed Mike to the office.
“Keep an eye open, Colin,” Mike called to his apprentice.
“Will do,” Colin leant left and right. “Hi, Phil. No Rachel today?”
“Sorry mate,” Phil said, “Rachel’s on a rest day.”
Mike organised two coffees and sat on the corner of his desk, one foot reaching to the floor. “The poor lad has been pining for Rachel since the day he met her.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t tell him he’s in a long line,” Phil said. They both laughed.
“He goes to a local gym, and he told me the other day he wants to get into better shape.”
“It sounds like he’s got it bad.”
“He has, mate, but you didn’t come here to discuss love’s young dream. What’s up?”
“It’s a sensitive subject, but I figured with your previous career, and present line of work, you might have some useful contacts.”
“This sounds a bit heavier than useful contacts.” Mike’s smile faded. “Is there some fucker leaning on you?”
“No,” Phil said. “It’s the other way around.”
Mike eased himself from the desk and moved around to his chair. “Do you need a bunch of crazy guys on bikes or a confidential one-man operation?”
“In a nutshell, I need somebody who isn’t afraid of getting his hands dirty, but he must be the soul of discretion.”
“Are we talking about covert ops?”
“Yes mate, but it would be better to keep the briefing for the operative.”
Mike slurped his coffee and set the mug on the desk. “Will your man need any special qualifications or equipment?”
“He’ll need to get hold of a motorboat, preferably nothing too cumbersome. He’ll also need to be ready to go to work at a moment’s notice. He’ll be operating beyond the law.”
“You better start the briefing Phil, and I’ll get organised.”
“Seriously, Mike? You haven’t asked how much is on offer.”
“If the job’s right mate, I’ll do it for nothing. Let’s hear it.” Mike pointed to a photograph of a small blue and white boat. “Bikes are my job, but the boat is my main hobby.”
“How big is it?” Phil stood up to get a better look at the picture.
“It’s a twenty-one-foot cruiser. I go on fishing trips in open water. It brings back pleasant memories of boarding pirated ships on the high seas.” He laughed.
“It must have cost a pretty penny.”
“It was in shit-state when I bought it. I spent the first year refurbishing inside and out, and I fitted a more powerful engine.”
Phil spent twenty minutes giving a brief outline of his intentions and reasoning.
“You’ve got a man and a boat.” Dimples appeared in Mike’s cheeks. “May I ask a question?”
“Of course.”
“Are you the Hawk who’s been in the news recently?”
“Yes.” Phil didn’t have to wait long for a response.
“You are a class act, mate.” Mike pushed back his chair and stretched a hand in Phil’s direction. I’ll be on standby from tomorrow.”
“We’ll crack open a couple of beers in a few days.”
“Maybe we’ll crack them open on my boat,” Mike said and slapped a large hand on Phil’s shoulder. “Watch your back, and keep your powder dry, mate.”
Phil drove away from Mike’s place wearing a rare, broad grin.
Annabel picked Jake up after lunchtime. Like his partner for the day, Jake was wearing a tracksuit and carrying a small drawstring backpack. From Drumchapel, they drove directly to Helensburgh. The weather was bright, but not too warm. It was a pleasant drive in the countryside and along the coast.
Annabel kept the conversation light and gener
al. As she had done with Rachel, she would give minimum information for the mission.
Jake opened up about his last conversation with Arkwright. He couldn’t know Annabel had a call the same afternoon and had waited patiently for him to talk about it.
Jake said, “Have you ever worked with Arkwright?”
“Yes, a long time ago.” She turned to him briefly. “I understand from what you’ve said today, you haven’t made up your mind about your future.”
“I wanted your opinion. I’ll be letting Hawk down if I get to the end of the probation period. You know, like if he gives me the go-ahead, and I say no?”
“Trust me, Jake.” She glanced at him. “If you continued, and your heart wasn’t in it - you’d be letting him down.”
“I find it embarrassing to have been rescued twice on tasks. Maybe I’m not cut out for it.” He turned and gazed at the River Clyde. The water glittered with sunshine, and pleasure craft were out in the main channel.
“There’s nothing wrong with being rescued, Jake ... it’s early days for you.”
“I look at Rachel. She’s like you; attractive, confident, capable.”
“Well thank you for the compliments, but please don’t make comparisons with yourself. We all have to be rescued sometimes. Life isn’t always easy.”
They’d driven through Dumbarton and Cardross. They entered the resort of Helensburgh, and Annabel pulled into the main car park at the eastern end of the promenade.
She said, “We’ll have a cup of tea at a seafront cafe while we have our final briefing.”
“Sounds good to me.”
They donned their shades, and strolled along the promenade, past the sheltered seats and the flowerbeds. When they’d walked for five minutes, they crossed the road. Annabel ensured they used a different cafe to the one she’d been in when acting as the reporter.
The pair took a table near the window, and Annabel pulled out a pad and a pre-folded map from her bag. She spread the sheet on the table.
“Always remember,” she said. “It’s good to know where you are. If you take a look at this section of the map, you’ll see Helensburgh, which is where we are now.” She used a fingertip to point out the route. “From here, it’s a short trip up around the Gare Loch, and down the peninsula. Cove is on the west of the peninsula. It should take fifteen minutes to reach.”
“If we’re going in together, why would I need to know the local area?”
“You must have heard the phrase, ‘the best-laid plans of mice and men’.”
“Be prepared for it going wrong. Isn’t it what Hawk calls the ‘what-if?’ scenarios?”
“Yes, but I’m confident.” She smiled and opened a notebook. It had a sketch diagram of the house, driveway, and road layout.
“What are all these crosses?”
“Cameras,” she said. “The place is surrounded with them. I’m sure some are fake, but others will be operational.”
“Could we defeat them to get close?”
“Yes, I’ve got it covered, and on this sketch, you’ll see I’ve chosen an entry and exit route.” Annabel explained the method of entry, and what she hoped to achieve. She asked for questions.
“If you were trained by Arkwright, why do you need me?”
“This is your speciality. Hawk wants you to get as much practice as possible—however long you’re with us. Once we’re in, I’ve got tasks to do.”
In Glasgow’s Pitt Street police station, a shift change occurred after lunchtime for some uniform personnel. Eddie and a few of the plainclothes officers went outside for a smoke. Eddie got chatting to one of the uniform girls.
While his partner was outside flirting, Sam went upstairs to feed bogus theories to the Chief Constable. Sam was pretending to be working hard on the vigilante case, and he had to gain Davenport’s trust.
Eddie returned to his desk and discovered a manila envelope addressed to him.
“Have you finished polluting your lungs, mate?” Sam approached with two coffees.
“I’m down to ten-a-day.”
“Good lad.” Sam paused beside the desk to place a coffee there. “You’ve ten-a-day to cut out now.” He nodded at the manila envelope. “When did you get this one?”
“At some point, while I was having a smoke and you were away from your office.”
“I’ve been upstairs feeding the Chief a load of bullshit.”
“Here we fucking go,” Eddie said and emptied the contents onto his desk. To avoid touching, he moved the printed sheet by dragging it on the end of a pencil. He read it aloud to Sam. “Within forty-eight hours you will have two locations to find cannabis.”
“Now wouldn’t it be handy,” Sam said. “We could use the information—” He stopped in mid-sentence when his phone rang. “Excuse me, Eddie.”
Eddie reread the mysterious note.
Sam left the office door open and lifted the handset. “DI Griffiths. Is the woman sure? Okay, cordon off, and we’ll be right there.”
Eddie stepped into the doorway. “Have we got a lead?”
“Remember Mrs Watt, the woman missing from the Bed and Breakfast place? Her car has been discovered in the city centre. Grab your keys, mate.”
“Which car park is it in?”
“Cowcaddens Road, multi-storey,” Sam said. “How fucking random ....”
“It’s nowhere near a bus station, or a railway station—”
“Some clever bastard thought this one up,” Sam said. They stopped as they passed the main desk. “Who’s the duty collator mate?”
The duty constable checked a list. “Constable Hughes, Sir.”
“It’s Amy, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Tell her I’d like everything on Mrs Lindsey Watt,” Sam said. He paused and stepped back. “What’s your name son?”
“Constable Nick Lennon, Sir,”
“Do they call you John?” Sam said and grinned.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Right John, I’d like you to tell Amy. Nobody, but nobody, is to get the Lindsey Watt information except me.”
“Will do, Sir.”
Annabel drove north from Helensburgh, past the submarine base and around the narrow coast road towards Cove. To the left through the sparse tree line, two yachts could be seen racing each other in the Clyde estuary.
“Take a look in the driveway,” Annabel said as they drove past Flannigan’s house.
“There’s a silver-coloured Land Rover Discovery parked at the side.”
Annabel parked at the nearby Linn Botanic Gardens. The pair were dressed in tracksuits and shades, and the final touch was to put on baseball caps. Annabel tucked her hair up inside the hat out of sight. They slung their drawstring bags over their backs.
A narrow track led along the boundary of the botanic gardens, and the mesh fence met the trees and undergrowth behind a small group of expensive houses. The people who lived in the area enjoyed their privacy.
An abundance of greenery served well to shield the homeowners, but it benefitted those who might want to get close, but unseen. Once among the trees, Annabel and Jake slipped plastic covers over their training shoes.
The pair crawled to within ten metres of the back wall of Flannigan’s house. It was a massive house for one person, and it was expensive, due to its location and age. Flannigan had money coming in from somewhere.
Annabel slipped off her pack, lifted out her mobile, and dialled a number. “Hello, could I speak to James Flannigan, please? I thought you should know, a woman has climbed aboard your boat.” She let him finish his questions. “About thirty ... blonde... She was up here last week, and told my husband she was a reporter—” The line went dead.
She grinned as she closed her phone, and replaced it in her bag. Annabel lifted out the Glock 9mm, which already had the suppressor fitted. She assumed a cross-legged, sitting position, and cocked the automatic.
Jake’s eyes widened, and his jaw dropped.
The side door of the hou
se opened, and Flannigan emerged, doing up the belt on his trousers. His face was a deep red, and he glanced left and right before leaping into his Land Rover and driving off. The gravel kicked up in his driveway, and the tyres screeched as the vehicle skidded onto the main road.
Annabel set the timer on her watch. She gripped her right wrist to steady her shooting hand. In ten seconds, two CCTV cameras were disabled, permanently.
“Jeezuzz.” Jake pulled on his latex gloves.
Annabel slipped the gun into her backpack and pulled on her gloves. They jogged to the side door of the house, and Jake worked on the lock. Once inside, Annabel motioned for Jake to wait. She rapidly cleared the downstairs rooms, except for two which were locked.
“The study,” she whispered, pointing to an oak door. “Go to it.”
Annabel moved through the house quickly and quietly, to locate the telephone extensions. She found one upstairs and one downstairs in the hallway, and attached small devices to each. She noted the carpet was plush throughout and she moved without a sound.
Annabel checked her watch every two minutes. Two doors downstairs had been locked. One was an office or study, which Jake was dealing with, and the other had to be a cellar door. It was much narrower than other doors.
The room Jake accessed was the study, and the layout was like a ship’s cabin. On the wall next to the door, but higher, was a massive painting depicting a naval battle of the 19th century. The picture was hinged at the left side and pulled forward. Jake had located the safe in a textbook location.
Directly opposite the door was the window, which was large and unlike any other in the house. It had been altered to replicate the sloping, multi-faceted window of a galleon. The view was of the River Clyde. Below the window, and facing the door was a large mahogany desk and leather chair.
Along one wall, a set of shelving was filled with books, and below was an antique table. An assortment of framed photographs stood on the table; some monochrome, others colour, and a handful which were sepia. The opposite wall had a massive hanging tapestry displaying a map of the world, depicting Neptune emerging from the mid-Atlantic.
