They sat in their pairs. Beaumont was not inclined to look out the window, but McKie couldn’t tear his eyes away from the night lit cityscape below. The yellow and red dots, the lit up roadways, car lights and a million windows, behind which dinners were being eaten, love was being made, hate was being brewed and the infinite combinations of tragedy and comedy were being played out into the blank unwritten pages of so many small personal histories. McKie sat enthralled, lost in speculation, until he registered their descent and the sight of airport lights brought him back to the matter in hand.
They left the helicopter behind, the DIC machine, slick and organised had them there on time and the white Lear jet60 XR was fuelled and waiting with a quickly booked emergency government slot in the air traffic flow out of Stansted. Within minutes the small, but powerful and iconic jet had slammed them back in their seats and was manoeuvring into the skyway traffic system above the UK mainland.
Chapter 34
Inverness to London Sleeper Train
9 p.m.
April 17th
Once on the train Spencer had held himself back from going for Mason’s booked sleeper straight away. He went and found Stanton in his sleeper. The two were friendly towards each other, yet, as men in their business were, slightly wary too. Together they had used a spare fake passport of Spencer’s and altered it using their combined skills and the resources that each carried. These items included a small roll of plastic laminate, an adjustable circular date stamp, razor blade and miniature stamp style three word printer and ink pad. Within ten minutes, working in silence, Spencer had ID good enough to fool a carriage guard in a gloomy rolling corridor.
“Meet me in the restaurant in twenty minutes, my treat.” Spencer nodded.
“I’ll expect a repayment.” Stanton added.
“Of what kind?”
“Information.” Stanton spoke with a hard factual tone in his voice.
“I’ll tell you what I know. Thanks Stanton.”
A short walk along to the next carriage and Spencer identified himself to the guard, said that he had got on the train in the last minute, having been mugged for his luggage and wallet. This also explained the state of his clothes, which pleased Spencer. When asked for the ticket, Spencer explained that the muggers had taken it, but handed over the passport, explaining that he kept it in his pants, giving the guard a good reason not to hold on to it for too long. The guard happily found the sleeper with the Townshend reservation. He let Spencer in. Spencer quickly washed and visibly freshened up went to the restaurant. His booking was overdue, but the guard, fishing for tips had already contacted the restaurant and asked them to be flexible. Stanton, already drinking a mineral water, called him over. Spencer self deprecatingly and profusely thanked the waiter and threading through the tables sat down opposite Stanton. It was nine-forty pm when they ordered food.
Chapter 35
Lear Jet over UK Air Space
9 -55 p.m.
April 17th
On the Lear jet the teams had hardly had time to settle, all of them nervous, fidgety, chatting for distraction, when the pilot called seat belts on for the descent to Liverpool airport. The Jet bumped down and being a government flight and internal the two DIC roving teams for work in Liverpool were quickly on their way to their set destination in the car of the DIC man whose watch included the airport.
Jack and Beaumont stayed on the Lear jet waiting for their plane’s slot in the take off queue. It was close to ten o’clock, one hour to their rendezvous in Perth when the jet once more slammed them into the seats as it took off.
Finally less self conscious with only Beaumont there David called his wife. In spite of being in a plane and travelling fast the satellite phone was clear. It rang for a short while and his wife answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi sweetheart it’s Davy, did I wake you?”
“No I’ve been waiting for your call. Conor was waiting too, but he’s long since asleep.”
David felt the good father’s guilt pang flush through him and all of a sudden the distance from his home and family swamped him with the sense of a world all too big and unknown.
“I’m sorry. It’s been that kind of a day.”
“What’s the room like?”
“Nice enough… but… I’m on a small passenger jet heading for Perth.”
“What?”
“There’s a situation, I can’t tell you about it, but we’re on the way to Perth.”
“Dear god! No wonder you haven’t called.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow. They might need this line to contact us.”
“Okay. Hey if you get the chance drop in on your father, Glasgow’s not that far.”
“Good idea. I love you.”
“I love you too, especially now you’re a member of the jet set.”
“Kiss Conor and pat the bump for me.”
“Okay. I miss you.”
“I miss you too. I’d better go.”
“By love.”
“Goodnight sweetie.”
McKie held the unconnected phone to his face a moment a huge sigh building in his chest.
“Mind if I call my wife.”
“No Beaumont, sorry, that’s the worst I’ve ever felt in my life.”
“So far eh?”
Beaumont dialled his number. David turned away and went to the small toilet. How did a man become so tied to his little tribe? He looked in the mirror, feeling the sting of tears begin their gathering in his eyes; he splashed water on his face and scrunched his face into the soft white towel. What was he doing here? A DIC man was missing presumed dead. One of the men they were hunting had probably killed him. What if he, McKie, were killed? What if his family never saw him again? He gritted his teeth, pushed air out his nose and lowered the towel staring straight into his own eyes in the mirror. No it wasn’t going to happen. He’d make sure. He had a choice here. His father once told him that the coward dies a thousand times, but the brave man only dies once. He nodded to himself, focus, clear your head, forget fear and do the job. You’ll be home.
When he got back to his seat Beaumont was on the phone still except that David could tell it was Fulton on the other end. Beaumont was being briefed. He ended the call with an ‘okay Jack.’
“What’s the plan?”
Beaumont began briefing him on the instructions that Jack had given him.
Chapter 36
Mersey Marina
9 – 45 p.m.
April 17th
A detective inspector from Liverpool police greeted Jaz and Tony. They showed him their diplomatic passes. The marina was lit up starkly by temporary lights and the generator feeding them was making a steady hum, creating a busy feeling at the scene.
On the jetty two bodies were laid out, lying on the cloths they’d been wrapped in. The detective led Jaz and Tony to the bodies. Face up the watch man could not be recognised, the bullet having exited by his nose taking a lot of flesh and bone with it. A gaping, red raw, butcher’s block nightmare greeted Jaz, who on seeing the ripped and jagged remains turned away, held her fist to her mouth and bit on her knuckles, sensations of nausea and shock flooding her body with adrenalin.
Tony had more experience. He took the photograph of Wally out. Taller than the watch man, Wally’s fatal bullet had exited his forehead, leaving his features in tact and enabling Tony to match the picture. Tony stared at the still white face, dead fish eyes dripping with Mersey water. Shot in the back of the head. Unarmed and shot in the back of the head. An unarmed family man shot in the back of the head. Tony’s face hardened and he tore his eyes away from Wally’s corpse.
“That your man?” The detective asked.