‘Just a scratch though, nothing to worry about. Definitely Thomas, which is why I’m calling.’
‘Go on.’ Mickey prompted.
Dave went into the entrance hall and picked up his shoes he then walked up the hallway and entered the general’s office. He sat in the large red leather chair, leaning back to recline it slightly.
‘Well, the bastard got away. I don’t have a reg, but he’s in a dark blue thirteen-plate Maserati Quattroporte.’
‘Very nice.’ Mickey interjected.
‘Very.’ Dave agreed. ‘But plod need a registration in order to track it via ANPR. I’m hoping he’s got a tracker installed. Any chance you could use your skills to try and find out? Should be an account in the name of General William Thomas.’
Dave heard the faint sound of keystrokes, then Mickey’s voice.
‘PythonTrak seem to be Maserati approved, I’ll try them. What are you after?’
‘Location would be good, speed, direction. We might be able to guess his destination.’
‘Bear with, the security on this server is shockingly poor. I’ll be through it in a minute. Shall I sing while you wait?’ Mickey chuckled.
‘I’d rather you didn’t, if it’s all the same mate.’
‘Fair enough.’
More tapping, frustrated grunts and obscenities bombarded Dave’s ears as Mickey applied his craft. Dave lifted his right foot and slipped a shoe on. He repeated the process for his left foot.
Dave was now rocking the leather chair, he then started swivelling left and right like a small child visiting his dad’s workplace. The chair started squeaking, a high pitched, grating noise, so he returned to a stationary position and started moving things on the desk, the phone still held to his left ear, impatience showing.
Looking up from the desk, Dave noticed the bullet hole in the hallway wall through the office door. He made a gun shape with his right hand and lined it up with the impact hole. Pulling an imaginary trigger, he flicked his fingers upwards, mimicking the gun’s recoil.
Wadsworth walked in.
‘Having fun, sir?’ he asked, smirking.
Dave pointed to his left ear and the phone in his hand. ‘On the phone.’ he mouthed.
Wadsworth ignored Dave and continued.
‘Just so you know sir, we’ll be going now. The local force has arrived to secure the scene. You’ll be taken in for questioning soon.’ He nodded at Dave, still smirking.
‘Goodbye sir.’ He walked away.
Mickey’s voice came back on the line.
‘Sweet. Got the bastard.’
‘Where?’ Asked Dave.
‘A4, heading west. Current speed is ninety-seven miles per hour. If I had to guess, I’d say he was heading for Tidworth. Going to see the Brigadier.’
‘Probably.’ Agreed Dave. ‘Is there anything you can do to slow him down a bit?’
‘I can do better than that, Dave. You won’t believe this, mate. I can stop him in his tracks.’
‘You what?’ Dave asked. ‘How?’
‘I’ve the ability to cut the engine. It alerts the driver and slowly decreases the speed until the car’s stationary. Suppose it helps the police if the car’s been stolen.’
‘That’s fucking amazing!’ Exclaimed Dave. ‘Oh, by the way, what’s its registration? I’ll pass it on to the police.’
‘I can do that from here mate, if you like.’
‘No, it’s alright, mate, I’ll pass it on. There’s just something I need to do first’
Dave wrote the number on the jot-pad, next to the squiggles made earlier by the general. ‘Thanks Mick.’
‘No problem mate. Don’t go getting yourself into trouble though.’ Replied Mickey.
‘When have you ever known me to do that?’ Asked Dave, innocently.
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Mickey replied. ‘Pretty much whenever you’re awake. Take it easy mate.’ Mickey ended the call.
He immediately phoned Sam.
‘Sam, it’s Mickey. Before I tell you what I’ve found out, I think Dave’s going to do something stupid.’
‘Tell me something I don’t know.’ Replied Sam. ‘I’ll call you back in a couple of minutes.’
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Dave pulled into a lay-by. He could see the Maserati parked in a lay-by a couple of hundred metres further up, on the opposite side of the road. The car’s hazard lights were flashing. Thomas was pacing around in front of the car, his phone to his ear. An articulated lorry was indicating to leave the lay-by. It pulled out slowly and joined the traffic heading east toward Newbury.
An engine, slowing down and pulling in behind, interrupted Dave’s thoughts as he stared at the animated man in front of the Maserati. He looked in his wing-mirror and saw that he was now sharing the lay-by with a white van. He opened the van door and got out. Letting out a deep breath, he started walking up the hedge-lined road. Behind him, he heard the opening of the side-door of the white van.
‘So, Mick, what else have you got?’ Asked Sam
‘Well, I’ve got an arms company linked to Thomas.’
Mick now had Sam’s full attention.
‘Tell me more my friend.’
‘Culpepper Fostervold Arms International PLC. Thomas had shares. Quite a substantial number at that. Would have made him a tidy sum over the years. It seems he became quite good friends with a Lucas Fostervold, one of the directors.’
‘Good work, mate, where are they based?’
‘That’s the thing, mate. I think Raynor beat us to it. The Shard, fifty-seventh floor.’
Dave made a slow approach up the busy road. He managed to cross over, putting him on the same side as his target. He crouched as he made his way forward. He could hear the faint rustling of animals in the hedgerows.
He reached the lay-by and crouched lower as he approached the back of the Maserati. The general was holding his phone, stabbing the screen with his finger, eager for the device to do something to help him.
Finding his resolve, Dave stood upright and walked around the side of the car. The general was looking away from him, still trying to get his phone to do something.
Dave tapped him on the shoulder and the general turned round. To his surprise, the general received an uppercut to the chin from the small man that now stood in front of him.
The general staggered back and rubbed his chin, while Dave shook his hand and then started rubbing his knuckles, a look of pain on his face.
‘Fuck, that hurt.’ Dave announced.
‘That’s for shooting me you bastard.’ He said, as he pointed accusingly at the General.
The other man had now regained his balance, along with his composure.
‘Should have made sure I’d finished you off though, shouldn’t I?’ The general asked, rhetorically.
‘Well, if you had you wouldn’t be in this position would you?’ Countered Dave.
‘And what position would that be?’
‘Fucked.’ Was Dave’s reply.
The general smiled. From the waistband of his trousers he pulled the gun with which he’d shot Dave earlier.
‘Are you sure about that?’ He asked.
A defeated ‘Oh bollocks.’ was all Dave could manage.
A sudden, quiet, pop was followed by a mist of red that bloomed from the general’s body before he sank to the ground.
‘What the fuck!’ Dave exclaimed before he heard more rustling in the hedges. A man started to emerge from the greenery, camouflaged from head to toe, even his face was painted.
The man shouted ‘Clear. Target neutralised.’
Without realising he was doing it, Dave put his hands up. He started backing up until he made contact with the Italian sports car. Three more armed men made themselves known. Then Dave recognised the man in charge.