The Angel of Whitehall

by Lewis Hastings

  “John lad I need to put the bag back on. It’ll only take a moment.” Denby slid off of JD’s back and fumbled with the piping, re-attaching the day bag to his leg.

  “I’m impressed. You should have been a nurse.” He pulled the old man back up onto his back and they moved off once more.

  “I used to have a girlfriend who was a nurse,” said Denby as they moved slowly through the labyrinth ahead.

  Daniel did his best to ignore the words as he focused on looking down and making progress. Looking up to see the end of the tunnel just made things worse.

  “The SS Richard Montgomery!” Denby announced.

  Daniel kept moving, hoping that someone had received his text. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. It was dead.

  “Did you hear what I said, lad?”

  “Yes, something about a pretty nurse.” Daniel wheezed.

  “I didn’t say she was pretty. I just knew her. No, about the ship. I remembered its name. The SS Richard Montgomery.”

  “The old freighter that sank in the channel during the war?”

  “That’s the one lad.”

  “Well, what has that got to do with you, or me or any of this?”

  “It’s full of bombs. They say that if she explodes a bloody great wave will swamp London. There were thousands of bombs on board. Some might never go off. But what they won’t tell you is that she was full of people too. Just like my ship and all the others that came here. But guess what else the Monty has up her sleeve?”

  Daniel was in no mood for guessing games. “I don’t know just tell me Tom.”

  “Lots and lots of cash and diamonds and gold. She went down with the lot. That’s why they don’t want anyone near her.”

  “Sorry my old mate I need to correct you. I had to read up on the ship once – in case the thing exploded and flooded the city. She had bombs on board that’s for sure, but when divers went down to retrieve them, that was all they found.”

  “And when was that exactly?”

  “Straight after the war.”

  “Is that right? Well, let me correct you. The old girl dragged her anchor, got stuck on the Nore sandbank and eventually it broke her back. That much we know. So sad to watch a ship sinking. She was in about fifty feet of water, easy for most commercial divers to get to. They can work there for a good time before having to worry about decompression. And…”

  He stopped, touched his ear. There was a slight whistle.

  “My bloody hearing aid John. Did you hear something?”

  “No. Keep talking, I’ll keep walking.”

  “You see when the Richard Montgomery left the Delaware River in Philadelphia in 1944, she was packed to the gunwales with munitions, thousands of tons of the bloody stuff. And that was all. But she took an unscheduled stop along the way. The Battle of Normandy was becoming a reality, and she made haste for Britain. It was a mistake that she dropped anchor where she did. Ask any decent sailor.”

  “Tom, your point, please?” asked Daniel, now tired and becoming exasperated.

  “Many years later something else was lowered down into the hulk, to join the unexploded bombs, all sitting in that salty water, metals eroding, chemicals colluding, making the whole place a ticking time bomb. Quite literally.”

  They turned a corner, checked the way ahead and carried on. A hundred paces later they’d reached a door in the passageway. It was locked. There was nowhere else to go now.

  “Are we having a rest lad?”

  “We can go no further Tom. If we go back whoever you keep hearing will find us. So we wait here and hope for the best.” He banged on the door with a clenched fist.

  “In the meantime shall I tell you all about what I remember from that night?”

  “Why not? Then if I survive, I can salvage more than a few pointless gemstones.”

  Denby ignored him and carried on. Clarity was visiting, and it was a rare event.

  “When salvage crews went down to try to clear the bombs from the Montgomery years later, they came away with more than they bargained for. The government, or rather the people that I aligned to, knew that when it came to the definition of a secure place, an old ship in fifty feet of water with a few thousand bombs on board, on a sandbank and with a bloody great exclusion zone around it was just about as safe as the Tower of London.”

  “So why not use the Tower?”

  “Because we weren’t supposed to have the diamonds or gold John, that’s why. Do pay attention. The people didn’t really matter. No one mattered, it was all about the money. Many of those lovely young girls drowned. It was on my last run ashore that I decided enough was enough. We anchored up on that awful night and sent down a diver. He did one trip. But it got too much for him. God alone knows what he dropped off. I certainly can’t remember. We kept the rest and buried them somewhere else. Hoping to one day return and do something good with them. The thing is, I forgot and everyone else in my small team is dead now. But you know, I remember it all now.” He was crying. The past had come back to haunt him. “I remember it all.”

  “Let me get this right. You shipped hundreds of…slaves…from Africa to England to sell to the highest bidder?”

  “I didn’t lad, I was just doing my job. You have to understand that.”

  “And at some point you just happened to find a hoard of African diamonds, that you then lowered down into what is effectively the largest unexploded bomb in the waters surrounding Britain?”

  Daniel had eased Denby down, propped him against the wall and looked him in the eye. “That’s what you’ve kept up there all these years and now you suddenly remember?”

  “Don’t be angry with me John. I can’t remember what we had for dinner last night. I’m trying. OK?”

  “Well, at least the diamonds are safe. I doubt anyone will ever find them now.”

  “The ones on the ship have gone. The salvage team never made it back to their base. The newspapers said they had all died in a freak explosion, that one of their cylinders had exploded. Ever since they’ve put cameras out there, and sensors, no one goes anywhere near it now.”

  “But you reckon that somewhere there are a few more of these conflict diamonds just lying around in a desolate place waiting to be re-discovered. What is this a Clive Cussler novel?”

  “Believe me, there aren’t a few. There’s a load more. Some were put into a big vault somewhere in London, divided up among the bosses. Some were cut out of young girls. From their stomachs John, whilst they were alive. They were like the ultimate couriers, long before drugs were carried inside people. There are probably thousands of them in a store somewhere and the young girls are now almost likely to be old or dead. Or waiting to be found. They hunted them like elephants for their ivory.”

  The passion in the old man’s voice was all Daniel needed to hear.

  “I believe you Tom. I just needed to make sure. The survivors of our old team are few and far between now, I’m by far the youngest and I had to disappear to New Zealand to lie low for a while.”

  “Thank you.” He shook Daniel’s hand with his, the bulbous green veins vying for attention on the surface of his skin, an atlas of his life amongst the faded scars and darkened liver spots. He wiped a salty tear from his face, itself a road map of broken red veins and shattered dreams.

  “And the marks on their backs? Jack told me something about that. Can you remember that Tom? Come on, think, man.” He held him by the shoulders and shook him. “Think.”

  “I’m trying lad, please. You have to believe me. This was a long time ago.” His eyes reddened again. Then they both heard it. Footsteps. Approaching faster than before.

  “Do you think Jack has found us?”

  Daniel looked down the corridor, magnolia ceiling, magnolia walls and a government-issued carpet, he squinted, trying to focus, cursing for not carrying his glasses with him. “No Tom. Someone else has.”

  “Can I have that lemon cake now? You said we could if I remembered.”

  Daniel shook
his head, it was genuine pity. Then he stepped in front of the old sailor and held his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  “Shoot me Steve. What I know is worth knowing, what this old fool knows is two-fifths of f-all. Let him go. You know I can do far more damage than he can. I’m guessing you found your two men back there?”

  Daniel was hoping he had the upper hand whilst quietly praying someone had heard his earlier frantic door banging.

  “I won’t tell you again Steve.” He started to walk toward Hancock.

  “John, back off. I’ve got no dog in this fight. It’s the old boy I need, so just step aside and we’ll go. Right now there are people on their way to a number of addresses. I need that stopping. And I won’t ask so nicely again. Kate.”

  Briton stepped forward with a cell phone – like the vacuous smiling assistant to a cheesy Vegas magician.

  “Ring your people. Call them off.”

  “Sorry Steve can’t do that. Protect life and property remember?”

  “How could I forget? Listen, you’ve retired and I can count the hours till I retire too, that’s how much I despise this bloody job. In the old days it was a force to be reckoned with, now, it’s a service. A bloody service! Yes sir, how can I help? Oh, you’ve murdered someone? How lovely. We’ll be there in a week with a leaflet outlining your rights.”

  Daniel smiled. “Did get a bit like that in the end Steve. But we’ve made a difference.”

  Hancock handed the Glock to his girlfriend, took the phone off her and held it in front of Daniel.

  “Stunning, isn’t she? Bet you wish you had a missus like that. Look at her. Christ, I’m a lucky man. That little beauty can go all night in any direction I choose. She’s like an Uber Babe, one of my team called her Martini…”

  “Yes, we’ve all heard that one Steve,” said Daniel looking at Briton with a fatherly gaze. “Anytime, anyplace, anywhere.”

  “And, trust me, she lives up to the name. Now, step aside before I have to get physical with you, and you know I’ll win.”

  His nostrils flared, and the skin tightened over his teeth. Classic pre-escalation sign. Daniel had also been to police training school. It was one of the first human behaviour signs they taught you. That and the twitching jaw muscles.

  Hancock was an imposing man, had worked out for years and had the look of what was commonly known as a hard bastard. He’d lost teeth and had had his nose reset more times than was advisable, broken his knuckles on people’s faces and even lost a testicle in a bar fight, crushed up against his thigh with such force that it practically burst. He’d been known to show you if you asked nicely.

  He closed his eyes for a second. Always did, just before he struck.

  Big mistake.

  Daniel drove his foot up and into Hancock’s groin, targeting what was left of his much-favoured and infamous crown jewel.

  “Not much use to you now love.”

  Hancock boiled over with rage and launched himself at Daniel knocking him backwards into the door.

  Without hesitating, Denby started to kick Hancock, again and again, like a dog owner trying to free its Labrador of the death grip of a Pitbull. A few blows connected, but they were weak.

  “Take the shot!” Hancock called out, holding Daniel’s head in a vice-like grip, presenting it as a trophy. “Take the fucking shot!”

  “You sure Stevie babes? I need to know you mean it.” Briton sounded like a bimbo from a reality series, standing at a distance, pistol trembling in her bronzed hands, the legacy of a recent trip to an island in the Med – she had very few tan lines.

  “Like I showed you.” Hancock bellowed, his voice filling the long corridor, and he was now struggling to hold Daniel, who could see some light at the end of the tunnel, but one that was narrowing.

  Was this how it really all ended? In the death grip of a clammy Cockney, in an anonymous underground tunnel, beneath his city, a dementia-laden sailor to his left and a tanned, albeit well-educated slut to his right.

  Hancock shifted his body weight and tightened his grip on Daniel who still struggled like a salmon on a lure.

  “Now babes? Now? Like you showed me?” She was crying.

  “Yes, Kate, now! And then we can get to the vault.”

  She levelled off her arms, bent them slightly at the elbows, thumbs nicely locked around the weapon and stared over the top of the sights, pointed the barrel at Daniel’s head and slowly squeezed.

  ‘The best shot comes when you least expect it darling.’ Hancock had said on the range one evening as he wrapped his arms around her. ‘Always when you least expect it.’

  He was aroused, she could feel him, pushing into her like she was the next lot at a cattle market.

  ‘Sometimes Stevie you show me no respect at all.’

  ‘I promise to respect you later in the bedroom, or the kitchen or even outside on the balcony, so the whole city can see your gorgeous little body. Just like you love it.’

  “No, just like you loved it,” she said in a hissed tone.

  “What babe?” asked the veteran police inspector.

  “You ready for this John, because it’s really going to hurt?” She squeezed a little more as Denby was waving his hands frantically, trying to stop her.

  She pulled on the trigger. The Glock was known to have one of those mechanisms that was balanced just-so. She shifted her weight onto her front foot, adjusted one last time and fired.

  Once.

  Just like he had shown her on the range. With his grubby hands pawing at her like a slab of meat at Smithfield Market.

  Then again.

  The noise was deafening in such close proximity. Denby was sobbing. The sheer percussion of the shots had upset his equilibrium. He was staggering and trying not to focus on the bright red blood that tainted the magnolia walls and ceiling and added a certain liveliness to the government-issued carpet.

  She scanned, lowered the weapon, stuffed it into the back of her trousers then began to walk back down the corridor. She was about twenty paces away when she stopped and turned.

  “I’m sorry John. Truly. I hope you are both OK. He’d had that coming for the last six months. Dirty old bastard. I just needed him more than he thought he needed me. For the record, the sex was awful, he stank of body odour that not even three cans of Lynx Africa could conceal, but he was my key to the door. Forgive me? But don’t come after me or I will shoot you. If Inspector Steve Hancock taught me anything at the range, it was how to shoot well. Goodbye.”

  She turned and walked away as Daniel regained his breath and checked on Denby. “You OK Tom?”

  “I am now lad. What shall we do with him?”

  “I have no idea, for now we need to get some help.”

  “That would be marvellous. What a lovely girl. She looks just like my granddaughter.”

  “Is that so?” asked Daniel neither hearing nor caring as he struggled to swallow and get his breathing under control and check Hancock’s life signs one last time.

  Kate Briton ran down the corridor, waited until the new footsteps approached, concealed the firearm and began to cry. It was a trick her mother had taught her. ‘Think of your saddest day and it will happen.’

  That day was today. She’d hated seeing her grandfather so distressed, back in that tunnel – worse still that he had no idea who she was.

  But she hated being broke too, and she had high standards. As Steve had said, ‘Get to the vault, and get the stuff out and bugger off somewhere.’

  The Cook Islands was where they had decided would be a fine place to escape from the rat race. She could stay six months, then move on, Samoa, or Hawaii, or Bora Bora, who cared? As long as it was warm and the ocean clear and refreshing, shoals of silver fish darting here and there, a small bikini, a sarong and a hammock. Let the men stare but never feel able to get any closer.

  Kate was one of those reef fish. Eye-catching, enchanting, but you never got close enough to catch her.

 
; She saw Roberts first. Then Cade. They were running, guns drawn, serious faces and searching eyes.

  “Kate!” called out Roberts, trying to remain professional but so happy to see her. “You OK? What is happening? Talk to me.” He allowed her to compose herself.

  “Back there, Jason. It’s awful. Blood everywhere. Oh my actual God, it was horrid. He just tried to shoot the old man and JD. I didn’t know what to do, so I ran and just kept running.”

  Roberts stepped forward to hug her, but she held him at arm’s length.

  “I’m OK. Just need some fresh air. The gun just went off. I’ll get outside and ring someone. Who do I ring? The unit? Carrie? Dave? Who?” She was displaying all the signs of a traumatised person. Like she’d just witnessed a shooting.

  Cade spoke. “Kate. Good to see you are OK. I just need to ask you a question.”

  Roberts looked at his colleague with a ‘Really? Right now?’ face.

  “Yes, now, Jason. Kate, what were you doing down here and who has been shot?” It was actually a very reasonable question.

  “Steve Hancock made me come down here to ask the old man some questions. Steve had been blackmailing me for months Jack.” She started to retch.

  “Look before I go on. Who has been shot?”

  “Steve.”

  “Is he OK?”

  “I don’t know.” She knew.

  “JD? Tom?”

  “Both fine. Tired but fine. JD might need an ambulance. He put up one hell of a fight.”

  “JD shot Steve?”

  “No, I did. I had no choice Jack. He gave me no choice.”

  “Kate you need to take some deep breaths – get to the small office, the one you probably arrived at and wait for us. And be aware there is a body up there too.”

  “I know. Steve did that too. There’s two men in a side room along the corridor too. JD killed them. Oh Jack, Jason this is awful.”

  “You said Steve was blackmailing you?”