‘Called me on his way, I got a photo from the MI5 archives and sent it to him on his mobile to confirm the target. That’s the last I heard from him. Was expecting a call this morning.’
‘And this Edwards character? What do you know of him?’
‘Not a great deal. He’s a low level analyst at Five, that’s about it. Due to his living close to Tidworth, he was put in the field to perform the initial investigation.’
‘So no special training? No field training? Anything like that?’
‘Certainly not through Five. According to his records he’s just a common or garden desk jockey.’
‘Well, we need him to disappear. Along with anyone who may also know what he knows.’
The Lotus Elan turned off of Charlton Road and parked outside Mickey’s house. Sam turned the engine off and removed the key from the ignition. He looked at the sky and held his hand out, trying to determine if the now clear sky would miraculously materialise clouds and rain. The dilemma of a soft-top driver.
Should I put the roof up?
After a minute of sky-checking he decided to risk it. He got out and closed the door, locked the car and set the alarm. He admired his car for a moment. Probably a moment too long, but he loved that old soon-to-be-a-classic Elan.
Mickey saw him from the front window and opened the door.
‘Leave it out Sam, it’s just a car.’
‘That, my friend, is one of the greatest small roadsters ever made. Now what have you got for me?’
‘Come in mate, but prepare yourself, some of this stuff isn’t nice. Fancy a cuppa?’
‘Yeah, why not?’
Sam followed Mickey into his kitchen. Mickey grabbed a couple of mugs from the draining board, put a tea bag into each of them and put the kettle on.’
‘Right, well, to start with.’ Said Mickey, as they waited for the kettle to boil. ‘The tattoo is symbolic of the squad nickname “The Devil’s Tormentors” or some such nonsense.’
Sam raised an eyebrow. ‘Really? That’s their sobriquet? What’s it supposed to mean.’
‘Dunno mate, maybe they were so badass they thought even the devil would have problems with them. If the archives are to be believed, there’s no way they’d be going upstairs when they left this realm, if you know what I mean.’ Sam nodded.
‘That bad?’ he asked.
‘Definitely. These boys would be taking the express elevator to Hell, where they would probably torment the cloven-hooved overlord for all eternity.’
The kettle came to a boil and Sam poured the water while Mickey retrieved the milk from the fridge. Mickey held the bottle up, waiting for Sam to confirm whether he wanted some added to his tea.
‘Just a splash please mate.’
Mickey added the milk and returned it to the fridge. Sam scooped the teabags out of the mugs and put them in the bin. He stirred the teas and said to Mickey.
‘Right, let’s have look then.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
Raynor removed his motorcycle helmet and leaned against the exterior wall of Guy’s Hospital. He looked up at the impressive, yet imposing, building opposite. It seemed to stretch for ever into the heavens. A direct ascent to God. He took his phone from his jacket pocket and dialled.
‘Yes?’ Came a voice at the other end, almost immediately.
‘Good afternoon sir, I’m calling about a contract you’ve recently tried to terminate.’
‘I’m sorry, who is this? You shouldn’t have this number, it’s a direct line known by very few.’
‘That’s not important, look stop acting like an idiot, you know who I am.’
A pause, Raynor could almost feel the tension in the silence.
‘Raynor?’
‘The very same.’ Another pause. Raynor shifted from the wall and started to idly wander down St Thomas Street. He stopped at the corner of Guy’s Hospital and read the information board, still waiting for a response.
‘You still there?’ he asked, before turning one hundred and eighty degrees and starting the return journey to his leaning spot.
‘Look, what do you want? Why are you calling me?’
‘What do you think I want? Your man, and I know who he is, by the way, has told me you want to pull out of our deal.’
He watched a woman push a small child in a wheelchair toward the hospital entrance. He poked his tongue out at the child, both mother and child chuckling and smiling back at him.
‘Yes, that’s right, um, we weren’t, err, I wasn’t thinking straight. When I contacted the… broker, I didn’t realise what would happen.’
‘Well what did you expect to happen? You’ve paid somebody to blow the shit out of our capital city.’
‘Yes I’m quite aware of that, thank you, I just didn’t realise what the extent of the damage would be, or how many people would get hurt. I guess I was being a bit naive, not thinking people would die.’
Raynor shifted again. He walked across St Thomas Street and gazed into the Hotel window. He saw his reflection. Top-to-toe bike leathers, courier’s rucksack strapped to his back. Phone in one hand, crash helmet in the other.
‘Look, it’s not my fault you’ve suddenly got a conscience, we’ve got a deal. You still owe me for the last job. I’ve got expenses you know.’
The man at the other end of the line laughed.
‘Are you fucking joking? I paid you six million pounds for the first job, expenses you say? What exactly are you struggling to afford at this moment in time?’
Raynor was amused by this response.
‘I know,’ he replied, ‘I’m just pulling your leg.’
‘So you’re going to stop?’
‘Oh no, I’m not stopping. Unless you pay me to stop, of course. Let’s say double the agreed amount. That’ll be another eighteen million if my maths are right, might as well round it up to twenty million. Or you could spend the rest of your life wondering if I’ll ever find out where you live, or work. It can’t be that difficult, I got your number easily enough.’
‘You can’t threaten me Raynor, I’ll simply go to the police, claim blackmail, you can tell them anything you like, you won’t stand a chance. I’ve got contacts, power.’
‘Is that “no” then?’
The man ended the call.
Raynor entered the lobby of the Shangri-La Shard Hotel and headed to the bank of lifts, one of which would take him to the hotel reception on the thirty-fourth floor.
When the doors finally slid open Raynor left the lift, grateful to be away from the muzak and endless adverts looped on the screens on the wall of the lift. He found the reception and winked at the attractive blond receptionist, who smiled back coyly.
‘Hello Sweetheart, NR Express Couriers, I’m looking for a way up to the business floors. Got a delivery for a, um,’ He took an envelope from his rucksack and read the label, ‘Lucas Fostervold of Culpepper Fostervold Arms International PLC? Fifty Seventh floor.’
He looked back at the receptionist. A wide, cheeky smile across his face.
‘Certainly sir.’ She replied. ‘There’s not really public access from here, so I need to ask you to go back down and use the lifts in the Office Lobby on the ground floor.’
Raynor put on a dejected, sad face.
‘You’re joking aren’t you?’
‘No, I’m afraid not, sir.’
‘Shit… Sorry. But it’s my first day on the job and I’m already running late.’
She smiled an apologetic smile.
‘And I was going to ask you out for a drink when you knocked off, too.’ Raynor added. The cheeky smile returned.
‘I’m not sure my boyfriend would be too pleased about that.’ She replied, the coy smile appearing once more before she continued.
‘Look, I shouldn’t really do this, but there are a couple of service elevators down a corridor behind reception. One’s for hotel staff, and only goes as high as fifty-two.’