“Penultimately we’ve got a dear old sailor who has weeks to live wanting to clear his debts and conscience – he’s got half the clues to where some serious information and money might be stashed – and you can guarantee that a few people would dearly love to get their sweaty hands on it before we do…and Jason, we need to talk offline. I’ve just had one of my little moments…you know, those moments when I have a strange but compelling feeling that I’ve seen someone before?”
He picked up an old brass dart from the bar, ran his fingers through the feathered flight then around the barrel before he turned and threw it.
“…And finally, we also now know that people within our very own organisation are involved. And that is the most worrying aspect of all.”
The dart hit the time-worn wire and eased into the bristle bed of the treble twenty.
“For everyone’s sake, let’s get there first shall we?”
An hour later the team had formulated a plan based on the key principles of operational policing.
Grounds. Situation. Mission. Execution.
They would strike tomorrow.
Chapter Forty-Four
The next day
“What are we doing today lad? I’m really keen to go to the Imperial War Museum,” said Denby, almost oblivious to the chain of events that were wallowing in his wake.
“Sounds great Tom but you see Johnnie and I have some business to attend to. Remember what we talked about the other day?”
“No I don’t lad. Sorry. Try me again.” It was obvious he had no idea.
“You recall you told us all about the ships that ran from Africa to England?” asked Daniel hopefully.
“The Albatross and the Argonaut? Of course, I’m not daft John.”
Hewett smiled into the mirror of the black cab. “No one is saying you are Tom, we just need you to remember as much as you can. Fancy giving it a go? For old time’s sake?”
“You mean like a game? Yes, why not?” He was a man of huge experience living vicariously in a little boy’s mind.
Both Daniel and Hewett knew that chances of gaining five percent of what they needed was remote at best.
“Both ships are probably long gone now, but can you remember who was in charge of bringing all those people to England? If you can, I’ll take you to the museum, possibly even buy you a cup of tea and a cake.”
“Do they have lemon cake?”
“They do. Best in town.” Daniel was hoping that by the time they got to that stage the old sailor would have forgotten about the trip. The last thing he needed to do was expose him to any danger.
Travelling around in a black cab in a city full of them made him as anonymous as the next old sailor. All they needed was for their enemy to have a lucky break and the weeks that they had would become hours.
So far, the two men had tried every trick in the book to try to extract the information that was lodged somewhere deep in Denby’s mind. They’d tried regression, but that failed. He could remember the service numbers of most of his old comrades, but not what cereal he had eaten for breakfast. His history teacher was called Jim Seal, he remembered that as if it was yesterday and when he’d received his first pay packet for a week’s work at the cotton mill in Burnley. He was fourteen.
They tried general chatter then interspersing the conversation with a question. “Do you remember when the Albatross docked at Southampton that time and…”
“No, lad I don’t.” It was frustrating to say the least. And he was fading now, getting more tired by the day.
They stopped in heavy traffic, facing Admiralty Arch. It was deliberate. They’d actually driven around in a circle twice, each time ending up looking at the iconic landmark. They knew Denby had worked there in the past. Third time lucky.
“Oh, look Admiralty Arch! How marvellous. I used to work there you know. It was owned by the government, but a little birdie told me they were selling it off for something. Such a shame. Did you know there are tunnels underneath?”
“You used to work there?” asked Daniel knowingly. “That must have been amazing in its day?”
“It was. Lord Mountbatten was based there for a while. And Churchill. Look at it now though. I think they are giving the old girl a facelift!”
“Going to be a swanky new hotel and restaurant Tom,” said Hewett as he negotiated the traffic.
“Can we stop and have a look?” Denby tried to open the rear door.
“Erm, hang on. I’ll see what I can do.” Hewett glanced at Daniel in the rear-view mirror and said with a look “Well?”
“Why not? Pull over, Johnnie.” Daniel knew it was risky, reckless even, but something had to trip Denby’s mental clock back in time.
“You serious?”
“Deadly. Stop here. Then circulate and I’ll ring you when we are done. Let the team know. Get some people travelling. I want them nearby if this goes tits up.”
Hewett drove back into the London traffic, spun the cab around within twenty-five feet – the standard turning circle of any such vehicle, then re-joined the mechanical snake that slithered and occasionally stopped alongside some of the most famous buildings in the world. He loved the place and driving a black cab meant he got to see plenty of it, plus, whenever he indicated, someone would let him in, normally another cabbie. They were the best in the world too. His greatest fear was actually having to pick up a real passenger, so he ensured his light shone out indicating that he wasn’t available.
Now, as he drove along The Mall, he hoped that this unscheduled departure from their itinerary would solve something. He laughed then said aloud “What bloody itinerary? We are just driving around hoping for the best Tom.”
It wasn’t how he normally worked, nor Daniel for that matter.
As the cab disappeared back down the road towards Buckingham Palace, Constitution Hill and Hyde Park Corner Daniel was like an expectant father. He ushered Denby to one side.
“I just need to send a quick message then we can have a walk around. How does that sound?”
“Grand lad, absolutely grand. How will you do that?”
“With this phone.”
“Isn’t that marvellous? Is it a new idea?”
“Fairly…”
“You know this old place had tunnels?”
“I did yes.”
“They say one leads all the way to Number Ten!”
“Is that right?” He didn’t know that.
“Yes it is lad, or I wouldn’t have told you would I?”
“No, I guess not.” He smiled as he pressed send.
Daniel had sent a brief message to Roberts, Cade and Hewett.
‘Trying something different with TD. At Admiralty Arch seeing if it will jog his memory. JH is nearby in the vehicle. Ack.’
Roberts and Cade acknowledged together.
“He’s doing what? Doesn’t he realise the risks? If they spot Denby we are screwed.”
“In a million people Jack? Ease up. I’m sick of worrying about things we can’t control.”
“Then call me Mr. Worrypants Jason, but this is making my alert radar twitch a little.”
“That’ll be your age or syphilis or something Mr. Worrypants.”
“You know you’re an arsehole at times don’t you DCI Roberts?”
“Yes. I do.”
“That’s fine then.”
Daniel walked Denby slowly towards the pedestrian thoroughfare as traffic poured through the main vehicular arches.
“Look at the stonework on this place John. Isn’t it wonderful?” He ran his hand over the walls and columns as cars continued to filter beyond the black wrought-iron gates.
They reached a large wooden door with twenty decorative panels and a small window at the top. Sat in yet another arch it led to somewhere.
“That’s the door to the old archives,” said Denby casually.
Daniel could have kissed him.
“And what’s in there then?” he asked, trying to tease more out of him.
; “Archives…” Said the former naval officer slowly, so that his younger protégé might understand.
Daniel relaxed. “Tell me about it then.”
“Well, it would have been, let me see, nineteen seventy-five. I worked down there with Hugo McHugh. Smartest young man I ever met, when it came to records, anyway. He had a head of dark red hair and freckles, was a hopeless sailor so they gave him a land-based job. He’d be nearing retirement now I guess. We should knock on the door and see if he answers!”
Denby’s face lit up, like a child, as if he was ready to knock on the door and run, leaving Daniel to face the consequences.
“Why not? Go on, I dare you.” Daniel knew that the place was all but abandoned now, ready for the developers to turn it into a Waldorf Hotel.
Denby hammered on the door as an old lady in a blue raincoat tutted and shuffled her way through the arch towards Trafalgar Square.
“No one in, let’s go shall we? See if we can drag some more wonderful memories out of that mind,” said Daniel.
“No lad, give it a minute. He’ll be here. He had a gammy leg you see.”
Daniel agreed. Checked his watch. Scanned the environs for threats.
“Thirty seconds and not one more.”
Hewett checked his watch. Expectant father. How much longer?
Cade did the same. He was committed with the Orion team but now he found his mind was everywhere other than on the job itself and he knew that was dangerous.
Roberts was juggling balls. Some were on fire. He’d drop a couple before the day had ended.
Following a revision of ideas tomorrow was now the new day that they would deploy and hopefully get what they needed and in turn save a few lives. Dave Francis had worked out that Hancock and his squad were on a rest day. The Orion team wanted to wait until they were back on duty – better to catch them on duty.
But that was tomorrow.
The man with the greying red hair and faded freckles stood wearily. Another week and he’d be gone. Everything boxed up. All his worldly professional goods, stuffed into a few cardboard containers and sealed with brown tape. He had grown used to working alone, down in the dungeons as he called them with veiled affection.
Seven days. Was that really all the time he had left? Where had the years gone? He limped forward, putting some weight onto the hardwood walking stick. He got to the door and as he always did; he looked out through the spyhole before even thinking of opening it. No doubt some clever bastard had thought it was a grand idea to knock and run away. Again.
He slowly slid the metal cover upwards and pressed his eye to the lens. He squinted. Looked again. Turned away, shook his head, let his eyes become accustomed to the light, then convinced himself to look again.
What he saw was another eye and as bloodshot. Blue like his, then it slowly moved away from the hole in the door that had long ceased being a security measure.
The eye became part of a face. Then more was revealed, a beard now, grey, almost white, then a nose, red on the end and ever so slightly bulbous, until finally Hugo McHugh, former Sub-Lieutenant Royal Navy was staring at the face of an old man. But his eyes still shone like the very first time they had met.
“Dear God above. It can’t be?” He shouted out, “Sir, wait a second, I’ll get the key!”
Denby turned to Daniel. “See? I told you he’d be here.”
The door opened smartly. They stood and looked at each other for a second then smiled and shook hands warmly.
A screech of tyres caused Daniel to turn one hundred and eighty degrees. As he did so he saw the car, a dark Mercedes, probably black, the light was playing havoc. But not so much that he didn’t see the two figures approaching fast from the other side of the arch.
Two figures, in a hurry. A car with two more in. The first two white, the second pair black. And one was trying his best to hide the pistol under his jacket.
“Tom, go, go now!” He pushed the old sailor forward into the door.
“No time for introductions we need to move fast,” said Daniel as he blinked away the winter sun and focused on his new environment.
McHugh tried to slam the door but a size twelve boot jammed into the door frame. He pushed against it turning and shouting.
“Sir, run, for God’s sake run.” McHugh had no idea what form of hell had been delivered, nevertheless his instinct was to protect the man who had seen fit to shield him from bullying some thirty years ago.
“I’ll hold them off.” With his left hand he fumbled for his cell phone, buried deep in his pocket underneath his favourite monogrammed handkerchief and an old boiled sweet he’d been saving for a rainy day.
The old clamshell phone dropped to the ground and shattered.
The door was being kicked in now. This was Admiral Arch for Christ’s sake not the ghetto. Someone would see this and phone the police.
“This way.” Daniel grabbed hold of Denby. “Come on, Tom.”
“But we haven’t said hello to young Hugo.” Denby stood his ground.
“And if we do, we are both soon likely to be dead. Now I don’t know who that is trying to kick that door in but I suspect they are not friendly. Move!”
They edged down the darkened corridor until lights illuminated in sequence providing a pathway and a possible escape but also a guide to their intended route.
“This way instead.” Daniel doubled back, took a second corridor and watched as the lights followed suit. “Let’s hope they choose the first. Come on Tom, on my back.”
Daniel realised quickly that his days as a natural athlete were probably over, thought about his beloved wife Lynne, then his own career as a police officer in the Metropolitan Police.
“Listen to me my old mate it doesn’t end here. We get away and we live to fight another day, but right now I need you to do as I say and start thinking about how we might counter-attack.” He hutched him up and started at a pace he knew he could maintain for about five minutes.
McHugh was tiring as the door got another shove inwards. Two men now, both well built. Dark skin, malevolent eyes. With another kick they were in, followed by two white people. A male and a female.
McHugh staggered backwards, raised his stick as a weapon and started swinging. He caught the largest of the two black men across the eyebrow. It split open instantly and poured. But he was beyond tired.
“I’ve got days till I finish and I’ll be damned if you bastards are going to spoil it for me.” He rammed the rubber end of the stick into the fire alarm, smashing the glass and activating the alarms.
Sprinklers started, it was an archive after all and fire destroyed the long-held truth of many a government, sometimes intentionally. He also knew this meant the police and fire brigade would attend.
At the police control room the dark-haired duty inspector slid her dark-framed glasses onto the bridge of her nose and looked at her screen.
“Is that the alarm at Marble Arch? That never goes off. Get a camera on it will you and get a unit travelling.” She picked up the phone.
“Harry? Donna Siggers. Look I’m not sure but I’ve got one of my gut feelings. Have you got anyone attending…?”
The male voice cut her off. “Marble Arch? Yes, we’ve got two appliances on the way.”
Harry Winters was a career firefighter. Had always found his police counterpart very striking and whenever they could they would meet for a drink and laugh at the world. Purely platonic, although the truth was neither wanted it to be so mundane.
“That never goes off,” said Winters, staring at his own screen and demanding camera footage.
“Thanks Harry. Tomorrow at four?” he was picturing her off-duty; her chocolate-coloured hair, tied back, blue eyes, eyebrows arched suggestively, pink, silky lips and a subtle cleft in her chin. She wore a pink top last time, one of those roll-neck ones, sleeveless, sexy. He knew that underneath she wore a silver locket on a silver chain which nestled just where her cleavage started. How she was still single haunted him. He just need
ed to ask.
“See you there.” Surely he had a better goodbye than that?
In the archives McHugh was lying across a desk, still trying to defend himself and somehow slow down the four people who had rudely ended his day of peace and tranquillity.
“Which way?” It was the white male this time. Holding McHugh’s cheeks with his thumb and forefinger, crushing his teeth, the ones at the very back, full of amalgam and like McHugh, clinging to life.
“That way.” He pointed with his head to the right-hand corridor.
“Take the other one.” The male instructed.
“How do you know the old man? One chance here mate so don’t blow it.”
“I used to be in the…army with him. He came to look at some old papers before I retired. I retire soon.”
“Wrong.” The two suppressed rounds hit McHugh in the chest from close range. He was dead before his lifeless body had slipped awkwardly onto the navy-blue carpet.
“I reckon we’ve made some ground. Stop here.” Daniel lowered Denby to the floor and leant him against a doorway, tried the handle but found it locked. Caught his breath.
“What are they after Tom? I need to know.”
“I’m sorry lad but I think they know I’ve got the answer to their question.”
“And the question?”
“Where did I store the diamonds and papers.”
Daniel shook his head, rubbed his eyes, then favoured his sore shoulders. “Diamonds? Jesus where did that come from? I need the truth. What have you got yourself involved in? I thought this was about people smuggling?”
The Angel of Whitehall Page 40
