by Liz Mistry
‘Great’ said Gus, ‘Send me the last sighting co-ordinates, Comps. We’ll check it out.’
‘Can probably do better than that Gus. Thing is, when I ran a background check on Beaumont’s properties a farmhouse came up – it seems he inherited it from his grandparents – it’s just two miles from our last sighting of the Discovery. Coincidence?’
‘You know what I think about coincidences, Compo, don’t you?’
Compo laughed, and Gus was surprised at how much lighter his heart felt on hearing his friend’s laugh.
‘No such fucking thing,’ said Compo
‘Exactly.’
45
03:30 En route Saddleworth Moor
‘Manchester in complete whiteout…. continuing blizzards.’
‘Tell me about it.’ Gus was freezing. His fingers were numb, his toes almost as bad. Gore’s state-of-the-art car seemed to have taken its heating system and replaced it with an American-sized fridge. Hell, even Alice’s damn temperamental Mini offered more insulation from the elements than this bloody monstrosity. Waste of damn money. Soon as Compo’s intel had come in, Gus had contacted DI Estefan who’d run it past her Super. The upshot was Gus and Gore were ordered to wait for them to assemble their SCO19 team. Gus took one look at Gore, who snorted and shook his head. Gus couldn’t have agreed more. Within minutes the pair of them were out the door and heading for Gore’s Volvo.
‘Many schools over the region will be closed due to the adverse weather.’
Gus sunk his chin down to his chest and hitched his jacket up over his mouth in an attempt to preserve some heat. Okay, so it wasn’t just the weather that was causing him grief. It was the lack of sleep, hunger and lack of caffeine. Also, Gore’s ebullience was really pissing him off. Gore was the one with the new-born baby, yet it was Gus who was sleep deprived. Was he jealous? He’d always wanted kids, Gabriella had been reticent. Never mind, with the way things had worked out it was probably for the best. How would you explain that whole Gabriella-Katie thing? Talk about complicated.
Gus watched the windscreen wipers push the steady fall of snowflakes to either side of the glass. He hoped the armed team arrived before he and Gore did. Judging by what had been done to Jordon Beaumont’s family, an extendable baton, pepper spray and a stab vest wouldn’t be of much use, although the vest might warm him up a bit. He hoped Gore had a couple of tasers rolling about in the back of the car, but having seen the baby seat in the rear of the car, he doubted it. Gore wouldn’t be the first officer to clear out any weaponry after starting a family. He couldn’t blame him. Last thing you wanted was for your kids to taser themselves. How could you live with the guilt?
‘One man knocked out by falling icicle has been rushed to North Manchester General with a suspected skull fracture. Whilst on a more positive note, volunteers have been handing out blankets to Manchester’s rough sleepers and…’
Gus reached over and switched off the car radio. He’d had more than enough depressing weather news for one day. Besides, who the hell knew what they’d find when they reached Jordan Beaumont’s farmhouse? Weather or not, Gus suspected his day may be about to get worse.
His phone rang and after a quick check to eliminate the possibility of yet another call from Gabriella, he answered. The line was crackly and it took him a moment or two to place the voice. Giannis Doukus had seemed on edge during their Skype conversation and now he seemed outright nervous. His accent was heavy and combined with the bad line, Gus found it difficult to concentrate, so it was a relief when a woman’s voice came over the line. Thank God! He flipped the phone to speaker so Gore could listen in. ‘Yes, I remember you, Ariadne. Lovely to speak to you again, although I am concerned we may get cut off. The weather conditions here are appalling.’
‘Well Detective, that being the case, I will get to the point. Giannis has come to me with some notable information and although we have passed this information to both Interpol and your MI6, we got the impression that perhaps it wouldn’t be shared with you.’
Gus grimaced and Gore made the universal hand movement attributed to sexual self-gratification, which made Gus smile.
‘Giannis isn’t concerned with the wider implications. His motives are all about Isabella. You see, he and Izzie were once a couple – until Daniel came along and swept her off her feet.’
Gus frowned, Daniel? Really? Gus hadn’t had Daniel down as the sweeping-off-feet kind of guy. However, that nugget of intel explained Doukus’ nervous appearance during their Skype call. ‘I’m listening, Ariadne.’
‘Professor Young, one of our senior researchers was killed in a car accident recently. Giannis suspects it is because Izzie confided her suspicions regarding Abaci. You see, Izzie told both Young and Doukus that there were programmes running underneath the ongoing research programme that monitored the research statistics. It concerned her.’
So, Dr Young wasn’t the scientist who’d been developing the AX23 formula or the ACC22 one. It wasn’t Young whom Izzie had been concerned about, it was Abaci. Doukus’ voice in the background, speaking in Greek, interrupted the conversation for a moment and then Ariadne was back. ‘Giannis wishes he’d paid more attention. He should have listened to Isabella, but he was upset and hurt.’
As the talking continued, Gus just silently wished Doukus would shut up. He wasn’t concerned with the other man’s emotional state – he just needed the information regarding Abaci. The information MI6 had chosen not to share with him.
‘The upshot of all of this detective, is that Giannis – after your interview – went back to the lab and he retraced Izzie’s footsteps; her digital ones that is.’
Struggling to maintain an even tone, Gus forced his lips into a smile and said, ‘Yes? What did he find?’ The line crackled and Gus glared at Gore as if he was to blame. Gore braked and pulled to the side of the road, ‘If I drive in any further you may lose your signal. Finish this conversation first.’
‘Abaci, has been running counter experiments which deconstruct the existing bio-chemistry and remodel it…’
Adriane consulted with Doukus in Greek and Gus remembered that this wasn’t her area of expertise either. When she came on the phone again she said, ‘As near as I can understand from Doukus, Abaci has used his research to create a vaccine that, rather than provide an antidote, will instead mutate into an existing bio-weapon. If a government held this doctored vaccine they would be lulled into a false sense of security and when confronted with a bio-weaponry attack, they will exacerbate the spread of the virus by administering the false vaccine.’ She took a breather before continuing, ‘Alongside this, the deployment of the more sophisticated virus – a deadlier strain of the virus, would cause international panic and death in the millions. Whichever country holds these two formulas could hold the rest of the world to ransom.’
Compo’s earlier ‘An-Ia-fucking-lation,’ sprung from Gus’s lips in a stunned, whisper, earning him a frown from Gore. Ariadne was still talking. ‘Izzie captured this information and, according to Doukus, she has altered some of the statistics, hopefully rendering Abaci’s findings inaccurate. She appears to have stolen the correct formula leaving Abaci with a dud. Interpol are in pursuit of Abaci as we speak, however it seems they don’t know who he is working for. I can’t believe I have worked with this man for so long. He is a traitor… and I considered him a friend.’
Gus could empathise. His feelings – when he thought Alice had betrayed him – had been so intense he’d been unable to function. But Alice wasn’t responsible for the potential devastation of the world. He could hear the grief in the woman’s tone.
‘Thank you for sharing this, Ariadne. Please pass my condolences to Giannis for his loss and thank him. He was right – this information wasn’t shared to us. However, tell him that as we speak we have experts working on retrieving information that Izzie left behind.’
Ariadne spoke again in Greek. ‘Detective, Doukus says be very careful. This information is very valuable and in the wrong hand
s could do untold damage. Too many people have died already, he hopes that you will be able to prevent any more casualties. Goodbye.’
Gus looked at his colleague as Gore re-started the engine. ‘The plot gets thicker and thicker.’
‘And uglier and uglier.’
Gus couldn’t disagree.
46
04:45 Premier Inn, Epsom, Surrey
He hadn’t eaten for hours. The hotel had settled down for the night and apart from the flickering images coming from the TV that he’d left on silent for the company and the occasional creak or cough from the next room, Sean Kennedy could have thought he was the only man alive. Not that he considered himself particularly alive – not right now. His temperature had flared up again and every time he swallowed it felt as if someone was using his throat as a cheese grater. So, when the call came, it was almost a relief from the stench of his own body and the increasingly maudlin thoughts that filtered through his mind.
‘Yeah.’ The single word was about all he could manage, but that was fine. It would no doubt serve to knock that idiot Allison-Hinton off balance. Whatever his solicitor was phoning with at this time of the morning, Sean was under no illusion that it would be good news. The man was annoyingly proper. The only thing that would prompt him to ring a client so early in the morning would be a catastrophe. Sean could only hope that whatever catastrophe it was, it would be manageable.
‘Eh, Sean. Sorry to wake you so early. Wouldn’t have bothered you if it hadn’t been quite so urgent.’
Sean sighed, wincing as even the exhalation of warm air was enough to ignite a fire from the base of his tongue down his gullet, ending in a ball of flames in his belly. What the fuck was wrong with him? He tried to focus, but the flashing lights from the telly were making his eyes go funny, and the pain in his gut was superseded by a searing pain behind his eyes.
‘Gimme a minute, okay?’ His words came out slurred and he hoped Allison-Hinton would assume he’d downed a few beers. Last thing he wanted was for him to think he was under par – never show the enemy your weakness, that was his motto – well one of them anyway.
Allison-Hinton, mumbled an arse licky sort of apology, sounding like one of Sean’s mum’s wittering old friends. As he continued to waffle on, Sean took a moment to rest the back of his crown on the headboard and take a few shallow calming breaths. That was better. Stretching out one hand, whilst trying not to move his head too much, Sean switched off the telly – plunging the room into near darkness. The streetlights outside cast gentle orange shadows through the half-drawn curtains, landing on the sparse fittings of the lonely hotel room. Sean closed his eyes for a second and massaged his temple. The pressure relieved the pain and when he reopened his eyes, the flecks of colour that had haunted his peripheral vision were gone.
He pressed the speaker phone button and prepared himself for whatever news was heading his way. ‘Get to the point.’
The solicitor, interrupted in mid flow, paused, breathed in, exhaled and began. ‘We, well, em… we appear to have lost Alice Cooper’s parents.’
Sean clenched his fists, Bastard! His throat, thick and slime-filled tightened. He swallowed, willing himself to ignore the pain.
‘You’ve done what?’
Allison-Hinton’s tone took on the erratic stutter of a machine gun with no ammunition left. ‘Don’t know how it happened. They were being tailed. Our men in Greece had them under observation at all times and then… well...’
Over the line the solicitor’s breath came fast and heavy and Gus pictured him shrinking behind his huge desk, like the coward he was. How he hated that man.
‘No excuses! I warned you.’ Sweat soaked through his T-shirt, making him clammy.
Was it a reaction to this phone call or something worse – much worse? His limbs were shaky, as if he’d run a marathon. He coughed. Long gone were the days when he could run a hundred metres, never mind a damn marathon. It was all that bitch’s fault and now this pillock was telling him they’d lost her parents – his leverage – gone!
‘Sean. There’s more.’
‘More?’ If he could have summoned up the energy he’d have rolled his eyes. What more could there be? Losing her parents was bad enough. How the hell could two trained ex SAS soldiers manage to lose two middle aged, eccentric and oblivious scientists who barely focused on anything other than their damn animal observations?
‘They’re dead.’
For a minute Sean thought he meant the Coopers, then he replayed the conversation.
No Allison-Hinton had clearly said they’d lost them- meaning they’d gone AWOL. Not dead. Surely not dead.
‘The Coopers?’
‘No… not them. Abdul and Kieran. Garrotted outside the Cooper’s apartment. A professional job – a hit.’
A hit? Who the hell would have realised they were keeping tabs on the Coopers, never mind organise a hit to snatch them? Only one image came to his mind. The image of a small dark-haired woman glaring defiantly at him from her hospital bed – Alice Cooper. How the hell had she managed to outwit him?
‘You. Have. Fucked. Up. Big. Time.’ He disconnected the call, before sagging back onto the bed.
47
05:05 HM Women’s Prison, Stanton, Surrey
‘Wake up, Alice. Got something to tell you.’ Seconds earlier, Lulu’s phone – the illegal one that somehow or other she never got caught with – had vibrated. Yet, despite being woken from a deep sleep, she sounded as alert as ever. Her gravelly voice strong, her eyes bright as she popped her head over the side of the bunk and peered down at Alice.
Alice, on the contrary hadn’t been asleep. All night she’d been lying on her back, her head resting on her bent arm, her dark eyes open, just waiting for lights-on so she could get up and live through yet another interminable day. For hours, she’d stared up at the bulging mattress of the bunk above her. Every move Lulu made was accompanied by creaking springs and the threat of the whole bunk giving up the ghost and collapsing on top of Alice. Considering her current stream of bad luck, Alice considered the chances of that quite high. At least she’d be dead and there would be no reason for Sean Kennedy to hurt her parents. The only thing was, she knew only too well just what Kennedy was capable of and her death wouldn’t guarantee her parent’s safety. No, that would be too easy.
Lulu had a variety of dealings in the outside world – a huge network of operations to keep up with, so Alice was well used to hearing that noise off and on throughout the night. Lulu’s business seemed to flourish between the hours of ten pm and six am and – according to Lulu – the main reason for her trusting Alice, a copper, to keep schtum was that she had first-hand dealings with Sean and anyone who’d got the once over on ‘that little weasel’ had earned a favour or two from Lulu.
‘I’m not sleeping, Lul. What’s up?’
Lulu smiled, her upside-down face looking strange, ‘They’re safe. We got them.’
Alice closed her eyes and exhaled. From nowhere tears welled in her eyes. She brushed them roughly away, conscious that Lulu had averted her gaze so as not to embarrass her. She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. ‘Brilliant. Thanks, Lul. Where are they?’
‘Where we arranged for them to be. They’ll be fine there.’
Alice smiled – they’d be more than fine there. They’d be looked after and no questions would be asked. Realising there was more to the story than a straight rescue – after all Sean Kennedy had almost as wide a reach as Lulu and was equally invested in keeping a hold of her parents – she looked straight at the other woman. ‘Casualties?’
Lulu shrugged, ‘Not on our side.’
Alice let that settle in her mind for a moment. Did she care if someone had got hurt- someone who’d been threatening her innocent parents? It took her all of two seconds to find her answer. She looked at Lulu and nodded once. The matter was closed. ‘Thanks, Lul.’
But Lulu wasn’t content to leave it there, ‘You’re not forgetting our deal, are you?’
/>
Alice shook her head, ‘No, Lulu. I’ve not forgotten.’
48
05:55 Saddleworth Moor
Daniel was disorientated when he opened his eyes. He was lying in a soft bed – warm and cosy. So why did it hurt so much to open his eyes? He tried to reach out for the light switch, but his hand wouldn’t move. It was so dark and he didn’t really want to move, but he wanted the light. Needed to rub his eyes. A strange humming buzzed from somewhere nearby. His alarm clock? The smoke alarm? Aw, for goodness sake shut up! He wanted to yell, but his voice refused to co-operate and then there was light. Blinding light. He scrunched his eyes shut. Put the damn light out, Izzie! Seconds, or was it minutes or even hours, later he opened his eyes. There were voices. Put the radio off Izzie! Trying to sleep here. Why are they shouting?
He snuggled down further, his cheek resting on something very cold. He opened his eyes. What the hell was the white stuff falling around him? His head lifted. It was everywhere. It was then that he saw the two dark figures in the distance. They were looking for something, torches flashing, calling a name... his name. Why did he think they were a threat? Weren’t they there to help him?
His heart began to pound. Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t focus. Couldn’t get his brain to form a coherent thought. It kept jumping around – a farmhouse? Musty clothes and eiderdown? He tried to move his hands and dislodged a layer of snow from his arm. Just how long had he been out of it, lying here in the snow? He moved his leg and realised that if he was going to move away from the men, he’d have to crawl.
