Although he suspected the man would be out for some time, he still searched him quickly for arms and removed an automatic pistol, which he slipped into his jacket pocket. The doorbell rang again he heard Jane call out, ‘Just a minute will you, I’m coming.’
Steven dropped down beside her behind the couch and gave her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. ‘When I signal, answer the door,’ he whispered. ‘Listen to what he says and then invite him in.’
Steven took up station behind the door, his pistol checked and held at the ready, barrel creating a furrow in his right cheek. He nodded to Jane and she walked over to open the door.
‘Sorry about that,’ she improvised. ‘I was on the phone.’
‘Mrs Sebring? Allow me to introduce myself. My name is John Deveron. I represent… Paveright Driveways.’
Steven thought that Jane wasn’t the only one improvising. Deveron would be wondering just where the hell his partner was.
‘I couldn’t help but notice that you have stone chippings in the drive,’ said Deveron. ‘Have you ever considered a more modern brick-paved one?’
‘As a matter of fact, I have been thinking about that, Mr Deveron,’ said Jane pleasantly. ‘Why don’t you come in and tell me all about it.’
Deveron took his first step inside and Steven put the barrel of his gun up against his temple. He frisked the man and removed the pistol he was carrying before ordering him to lie down on the floor with his hands behind his head.
‘Who are you?’ demanded Steven.
‘You’re making a big mistake, my friend,’ gasped the man on the ground as Steven kept the gun to his temple and went through his pockets.
‘ID, inside pocket on the left,’ said the man.
Steven flipped open the ID and gave a long sigh.
‘Just stepped out of your league, huh?’ said the man on the floor.
‘What is it, Steven?’ Jane asked.
‘I need something to tie these two up,’ he replied, deliberately ignoring the question.
‘Would plastic clothes-line do?’
‘Perfect.’
Jane went to fetch the line and Steven brought out his own ID and showed it to the man on the floor, just allowing him enough leeway to read it.
‘Sci-Med? What the hell are you doing here?’
‘The difference between us,’ murmured Steven, ‘is that I know why you are here. Now, who sent you?’
‘You know I can’t tell you that,’ grunted the man as Steven once more forced his head down on the floor.
‘Of course not,’ cooed Steven sarcastically. ‘It’ll be a secret.’
‘For Christ’s sake man,’ said the man on the floor. ‘There’s obviously been some kind of screw-up here. Why don’t you just let me up and we can sort this whole mess out?’
Jane came back into the room and handed the line and a small vegetable knife to Steven who set about tying up the man. He then moved on to his unconscious colleague in the kitchen and did the same to him.
‘So what now?’ asked the man on the floor when he returned. ‘What’s the point of all this? Why don’t we just get it all sorted out like civilised people?’
‘Your friend sleeping through there broke into this house,’ said Steven. ‘I’m handing you both over to the police.’
‘Jesus,’ snorted the man on the floor. ‘What do you think plod’s going to do when he sees our ID?’
‘He’s not going to see it,’ replied Steven. ‘I’m taking it with me along with your firearms and if one of these guns should happen to be the weapon that put a bullet in Michael D’Arcy you’ll be seeing the Kent Police as well.’
‘Whose side are you on, Dunbar?’
‘You know, I sometimes wonder,’ said Steven thoughtfully and looking down at the man as if he were a zoo exhibit. He picked up the house phone and then thought better of it. ‘Maybe not,’ he murmured, changing to his mobile and calling the police.
‘Ready?’ Steven asked Jane. She replied with a nod of the head.
‘For Christ’s sake, Dunbar, this is ridiculous,’ complained the man on the floor.
‘Absolutely,’ said Steven, ushering Jane through the door and closing it behind them.
Jane did not say anything until they were inside the car then she slammed her hand down on Steven’s as he made to put the car into gear. ‘Just what the hell is going on?’ she demanded. ‘You seemed to know these people or they knew you. I want some answers before I go anywhere with you.’
‘Unless they’re carrying fake ID, they’re MI5,’ said Steven.
Jane looked long and hard at him before saying, ‘Well, pardon me, but aren’t they supposed to be on our side?’
‘I thought so too,’ said Steven.
‘Are you seriously saying that it was MI5 trying to kill me?’ asked Jane, her voice betraying the incredulity she felt.
‘That’s what it looks like.’
‘Not a Mr “E”?’
‘There has to be an explanation,’ sighed Steven.
‘Will I live to hear it?’ said Jane.
‘I’ll sort it out. I promise.’
FIFTEEN
At eight in the evening the car park at the Service area on the M1 was relatively quiet, as Donald Crowe had hoped it might be. He had no trouble in parking his Mercedes estate car well away from other vehicles and tested the doors to make sure they were locked after using the remote. Satisfied, he walked over to the Travel Lodge and told the receptionist that he had booked small conference facilities for 8.15pm.
‘Yes sir, you’re in the Salisbury Room, through there and to the left.’
Crowe followed her directions and found the Salisbury Room where a lectern placed outside frosted glass doors held a peg-board sign announcing the room as being reserved for Mercury Graphics, the name Crowe had booked under. He entered and put his briefcase down on the table before walking slowly around the room. It was designed to seat twelve around a central table and had a slide projector at one end along with several computer points. ‘Courtesy’ notepads had been placed at each position along with complimentary pens carrying the logo of the hotel. It was ideal, thought Crowe. There were only going to be six of them, just another bunch of anonymous reps discussing sales and marketing.
Crowe moved over to the window and opened the vertical blinds slightly. He was in time to see a Toyota Land Cruiser pull up beside his car and Cecil Mowbray get out. He was accompanied by four other men. They all wore dark suits and carried briefcases as requested. Crowe checked his watch. They were right on time.
‘So this is what it feels like to be a pedlar on the road,’ said Cecil Mowbray as he entered ahead of the others.
‘As long as that’s what it looks like,’ said Crowe.
‘You worry too much,’ said Mowbray. He introduced the four others to Crowe as, Mr Brown, Mr Black, Mr Grey and Mr Green. ‘All ex-Special Forces and veterans of the Dark Continent.’
Crowe took this to mean mercenaries. He nodded to the men and opened his briefcase to take out four envelopes and hand one to each. ‘Half your fee, as agreed, gentlemen,’ he said. Next he brought out a map and spread it on the table while the men checked the contents of the envelopes. When they’d finished, Crowe said, ‘Next Tuesday you are going to take part in a military exercise. You will play the part of terrorists; you’ll be up against soldiers of the Territorial Army who will do their best to stop you achieving your objective.’
‘A toughie then,’ said one of the men to the amusement of the others. Mowbray permitted himself a small smile too. Crowe remained impassive. ‘This is the area of operations,’ he continued. ‘Your target is here, deep in this forest. It’s an aqueduct. The soldiers will be aware that three dangerous terrorists are at large in the area and will be charged with hunting you down while others guard the aqueduct.’