To the side of the property, Dave could see another building. A double garage that had accommodation to the side and above it. He couldn’t help but be impressed. The annexe was bigger than his house. In front of the garage, a dark blue Maserati Quattroporte sat beside a black Range Rover.
A button on the gate with a placard reading ‘Ring for Attention’ caught Dave’s eye. He pressed it and looked at the camera high on the wall. Another camera next to the buzzer watched him through a fisheye lens.
A tinny voice squawked through a small speaker next to the camera.
‘Yes, who is it?’
Dave took a deep breath.
‘Sorry to bother you, sir. I’m Dave, from FasterComm. We’ve had some calls about network outages, so I’m here to check everything’s okay.’
A pause of a couple of seconds was broken with the metallic answer.
‘But I’m not with FasterComm, I’m with BroadNet.’
Dave shuffled. Leaning past the wall to try and get a glimpse of the house, imagining eyes watching him through a window, even though he was obviously being watched by the camera in the wall.
‘Yes sir, I’m aware of that.’ Dave replied. ‘But BroadNet lease their lines from us.’
‘I see. Do you have identification?’
Dave held up his Id badge, attached to a lanyard, hanging around his neck.
‘To the wall camera please.’ Came the exasperated voice.
‘Of course, sorry.’ Dave held the card to the wall camera.
‘Very well. Will it take long?’
‘Minutes sir, then I’ll leave you to enjoy the rest of your afternoon.’
The whir of a motor followed a metallic clunk as the locking mechanism released and the gates rotated back on their hinges, giving Dave access to the vast grounds of the property.
Nerves were starting to attack Dave from all angles as he made his way up the tarmac drive toward the house.
As he approached the front door it started to open. A lean man who looked like he was in his late sixties but with the physique of a man half his age, stepped out. Only his short grey hair, parted at the side, and his worldly, lined face gave away the fact that he was older than his appearance would imply.
His trousers were neatly pressed. Pinpoint accurate creases adorned the front of each leg. A green cardigan covered a blue checked shirt.
The man stared at Dave, small brown eyes. Calculating. Analysing. He was leaning on a cane, but there was no obvious need for it. Dave shivered inwardly, this wasn’t the frail old man he was expecting to find here, but it was definitely an older version of the man whose photo he had attached to his clipboard.
‘ID please.’
The man barked the instruction, holding out his right hand, waving his fingers back and forth in a beckoning gesture.
Dave looked back at the gate pointing in its direction.
‘But I ju…’ he started.
‘ID please!’ More commanding this time.
Dave quickened his pace, almost to a trot. He bowed his head like a naughty schoolboy and meekly handed over his identification.
The general took his time reading the card in full. His gazed switched several times between Dave and the photo on the card. Eventually, he passed the card back to Dave, who hung it around his neck once more.
‘Well, Sykes. Is this going to take long?’ The general enquired.
‘Not too long at all Mr… err… sorry General Thomas.’
‘Good. I’ve places to be you know. Well come in, come in. Shoes off, please.’
Dave entered the foyer and removed his shoes, placing them on a shoe rack by the wall. He followed the general from the anteroom into a spacious hallway.
The general pointed at a small telephone table. A vase of flowers sitting behind a white cordless phone sat on its base. A notepad and pen positioned to the right of the base unit, the top sheet of paper blank.
‘I have two phone lines.’ The general informed Dave. ‘The first comes in there, the second in my office, which is also where my broadband comes in.’
He pointed to a hallway leading off to the right.
‘Down there, second left, that’s where I’ll be, should you need me.’
Dave nodded.
‘Thank you, I won’t be long.’
As soon as Thomas was out of earshot, Dave got his mobile and called Sam.
‘It’s him, Sam, no doubt about it.’ Dave whispered into his phone.
‘Good work Dave, we’ll take it from here. Is there any way you can keep him there for about twenty minutes. I’ve got an armed response unit stationed in Newbury. I’ll scramble them. They’ll be over as quick as they can to take him in’
‘Hang on!’ exclaimed Dave. ‘What do you mean? Armed response unit? Am I in danger?’
‘Dave. You’ll be fine. It’s just a precaution. Just keep up the engineer act.’
‘Yeah, okay mate.’ Dave ended the call.
General Thomas sat in his office, phone in hand. A wisp of smoke rose from a cigarette burning out in a crystal ashtray on the desk. A blueish, grey haze hovered over the general’s head.
Shit. No dial tone.
‘He could be dressed as a bloody phone engineer for all I know.’ The warning from Raynor echoed in his mind.
He took a key from his pocket and unlocked a drawer in his large mahogany desk. He pulled the drawer open and removed a mobile phone. He sat patiently while it started up, eyeing the Browning Hi-Power 9mm pistol that also took residence in the desk drawer. His sidearm during the Falklands conflict.
Okay Dave, keep cool. Fart about here for a couple of minutes, then go find the old bastard. Get him talking. Probably a lonely old fucker desperate for a good chat.
Dave took a screwdriver from the pocket of his shirt, knelt down, and started removing the screws from the cover of the phone cabling box. He removed the cover and inspected the connections.
‘He’s here, Raynor. A Dave Sykes. How the hell did you know he’d be dressed a phone engineer.’
‘Just a hunch, sir. An educated guess if you will.’
The old habit of calling a once superior officer ‘Sir’ still clung to Raynor.
‘Well what the hell am I supposed to do?’ Asked the general as he doodled on a jot-pad. The action was very out of character for the normally tidy man.
‘Well that’s up to you, sir. You can sit and wait for his backup to arrive. He’s probably called it in. You can get rid of him. You could try to escape. All of the above? Your call sir. Now I’ve got havoc to reign on our first city, so I’ve got to go.’
‘Why not stop Nathan?’ Implored the general. ‘You’ve made your point, you’ve had your payday, now vanish. If you keep this up, they’ll get you.’
‘I don’t think so, sir. Look after yourself. It’s been an honour.’
The call ended.
‘The box in the hall is fine, General.’
Dave shouted as he put the cover back onto the small white box. He stood and put his screwdriver back into his shirt pocket.
‘I’ll look at the one in your office now, if that’s okay.’
‘Yes, that’s fine, second left, just follow my voice.’
Dave started his walk to the general’s office. On his approach to the office door, the photograph of the younger William Thomas came free of the sprung clip of Dave’s clipboard and drifted, like a feather, to the floor. ‘Shit.’ he exclaimed, as he bent to pick it up. Picking up the picture, he started to rise from his stoop, just as he got to the office door.
The shot was deafening. Fortunately for Dave, the general was aiming to where he thought Dave’s torso would be. The photograph falling from the clipboard had saved Dave from serious injury, or even death.