As planned, he left the café and walked down the street, it was still early on Sunday morning, there was hardly anyone about. Dave reckoned he had a maximum of fifteen minutes before Roger Peterson would return. The American who had been watching the flat had followed Dave out, he set off in the other direction. Down the passageway and across two low walls. A dog must have sensed his presence as there was barking as he crept past one of the flats. Before doing anything else, Dave put on a pair of black latex gloves, he pushed the back door, it opened and he was in. He quietly closed it again, Trevor was correct, carpeted stairs with no creaking. He had his lock picks in his hand as he reached the first floor. This was possibly the riskiest part of the job, if the door opposite opened the game was up. It only took a few minutes before he was in, he quietly closed the door behind him. His first job was to locate any weapon there might be in the flat, he checked the fridge, then the kitchen cupboards, he found it in a box of cornflakes. He moved into the lounge, checking the newspaper rack, and cupboards in a sideboard, next he went through the bedside table. The one he was holding was all he found. He emptied out the bullets into an ashtray and left the gun on the kitchen worktop. He took his own Glock out his backpack, fitted the silencer and sat down to wait, he was facing the door Roger Peterson would come through into the lounge. He didn’t have long to wait, his phone pinged for the second time. His heart was racing, he found the long cable ties he had put in his backpack yesterday. He placed them, together with his phone on the low coffee table in front of him. The key turned in the lock, Dave’s heart, he felt would burst out his chest. The door opened and then closed, he heard two bolts being slid across. The door to the lounge opened, “Hello Roger, drop the newspaper and put the shopping on the floor.” He had put on weight since the photographs had been taken, his hair was thinner, Dave was pointing the Glock at him, “I think you are mistaken, my name is Stuart Ogilvy and what are you doing in my flat.” “Freddie made ID’s for me as well. Sit on the chair, we need to have a chat. I’ve got the gun out the kitchen, are there any others hidden round the flat.” There was no reply. “Who are you, your face is familiar?” “David Stretton.” “You’re the sergeant, I was warned about you, they said you were quite good.” “I would like to ask you some questions before you are collected, will you answer them now, or will it be later in an interview at Colchester barracks” He made a gesture indicating that Dave should continue. “Were the Chinese paying you to blackmail the Home Secretary?” “Of course they were.” His voice had lost a little of the strength it had just a few minutes ago. “Did you fly out each month for instructions, was the £10,000 paid into your account each month from them?” There was only a nod for a reply this time. “What happened to the photographer? Why did Freddie suddenly take a week’s leave?” His answer wasn’t the one he wanted to hear. “I killed the photographer and I killed Freddie, he thought you might grass him up, he came to me in a panic, I said he should take a week’s leave, and by the time he returned I would have sorted everything out. He believed me, the fool. I went round to see him on Tuesday, I said we should play some bondage games, he liked that, I tied him to his table, fucked him then slit his throat. He’s probably still there now, tied to the table.” Dave compared the lovemaking of yesterday afternoon with the cruelty of Roger Peterson. Any thoughts that he had of taking him into custody vanished that instant. “One final question, who is the mole in S417?” “Moles, there are two of them right at the top, the Major and his sidekick.” “Why?” “Ask them, I’m sure they will tell you why.” Dave sat there staring at him, his hatred for Roger Peterson was growing, how many others, he wondered, had been killed by the politely spoken man sitting less than a metre away from him. “Can I have a cigarette?” Dave nodded, as soon as he saw the packet being taken out of the jacket pocket, he leaned over and snatched it away. He didn’t know why he did it, but he was glad he did, inside was a tiny gun, it wouldn’t have done much damage, but it would have been enough for Dave to lose the initiative. Leaving it in the packet, he dropped it into his open backpack. He sat across the coffee table, his heart rate was now under control, there was no conversation or movement before Dave spoke, “Was the plan when you were discovered to use one of the other identities you have to flee the country and either settle somewhere under your new ID, or make your way to Hong Kong and live there freely under Chinese protection?” “Something like that.”
“I guess you think you will be held in custody for a few months and then exchanged for some innocent British person arrested in China on a trumped-up charge.” Roger nodded, “I’m not sure that’s how they operate, you have served your purpose and are no further use to them, they couldn’t care less about you, there will be somebody ready to take your place. They’re not like the Russians were, you won’t be paraded as a hero of the Chinese Peoples Republic, more than likely you will end up in that grave in Guangzhou.” His next move was to pick up his phone with his left hand, the Glock in his right still pointing at Roger Peterson. As he glanced at the phone to stop the recording, Roger Peterson, noticing Dave was distracted tried to leap out of the chair. Dave moved the Glock and fired a shot into his chest. His body flexed, then it fell back into the chair, the bullet went through the chair and into the wall, he fired another shot, “That’s for Freddie.” The sound of the shots was quieter, there was not the ‘crack’ heard when a gun is usually fired, he listened to see if there was any movement in the flat above.
He sent a message to Trevor, and sat waiting, he heard the buzz from the intercom, he picked up the handset fixed to the wall near the bolted door, releasing the lock for the front door, Trevor was up the stairs and waiting for the bolts to be pulled back and admitted into the flat. Dave handed over another pair of black latex gloves. “Don’t touch anything until you have these on. The door was bolted again, Dave led him into the lounge, Trevor saw the chair with a large hole in the back and blood running out onto the carpet. “Fucking Hell Dave, I didn’t think there would be any shooting.” “He killed someone I liked. Start in the bedroom, you are looking for a laptop, files, photographs, anything you think I might be interested in. make sure you are quiet. I will start in the kitchen.” Dave found letters and a note pad on the small breakfast bar, in the freezer he found a bag with around £2000. There was nothing else of any value. In the bedroom Trevor had found the laptop under the bed. He had emptied all the drawers in the dressing table and was going through a large shelved cupboard. It was in the wardrobe where he hit the jackpot. At the back was a large suitcase, Jackets and trousers had hidden it, it was only as Trevor had taken each one out to check the pockets, he saw it. “Dave, there’s a locked suitcase here, do you want me to break into it?” “No, I’ll come through,” with the lock picks, it only took a few seconds to open the case. There was another gun, a box full of photographs, memory sticks and bundles of money. Dave did a rough count, “could be close to £100k in here. Bring it all into the lounge.” Roger Peterson was oozing blood from the front and the back. Trevor tried not to look, “check out the sideboard, see what you can find in there.” “There’s a load of passports and ID cards,” “Bring them over here, then get your backpack.” Dave put in the laptop and the box of photo’s. In his own, he put the two guns, the Passports and ID’s and as much money as he could. “Can you get any more in yours?” “If it’s money, I’ll always find a place for it.” Dave counted the number of bundles Trevor was trying to force into his bag. “This is no good, was there a small suitcase anywhere. “It’s on top of the wardrobe, I checked it and put it back. I’ll get it.” Again, Dave counted the number of bundles he put in. “You take these two, I’ll take my backpack, we will meet at the hotel. Don’t think about doing a runner, or taking any of the money from the bundles, it won’t be worth it.” Dave nodded towards Roger Peterson, “wouldn’t want you ending up like that.” He went through the pockets on the body, he found a phone, taking it out, he cursed, “shit, it’s an iPhone, I’ll never get into that.” The final job was to take pictures of the body, he took them from the front and rear, this would be proof to the Brigadier the job was done.
As they prepared to leave, Dave took a piece of toilet paper from the bathroom, he took of his gloves and indicated for Trevor to do the same. “When we go out the front door, we will part like we are saying goodbye, you walk back to the hotel, I am going to see our two Americans.” I will be with you as soon as I can, it won’t be long.” He opened the door using the toilet paper, he closed it again in the same way. At the bottom of the stairs Dave did the same on the front door. Out in the street, they appeared to have a brief conversation, shaking hands, they headed in different directions. In the café, he ordered a coffee, and sat on a chair next to the Americans. “Mind if I join you?” There was a grunt from the one who wasn’t watching the building. In a low voice he spoke to the one who had grunted. “He won’t be coming out again, at least, not walking.” The one watching, spun round to face Dave. “His next journey will be in a body bag.” Dave sipped his coffee and waited for their reaction. “You can check out your cheap hotel in Paddington and go home.” “What are you talking about?” “Roger Peterson or Stuart Ogilvy or any other name you have for him is dead. Whatever you were tailing him for, has died with him.” They both tried to make it appear as if what Dave was saying to them meant nothing. “We have both been tailing the same person for the last few days. My man saw you both at different times following the subject. I don’t know if you are CIA or Homeland Security, and I’m not really bothered, tell your boss, that if he wants some interesting information, he should join me for dinner tonight at 19.30, Flemings Hotel, Half Moon Street. Make sure you let him know and say he should be wearing a suit. My name is David Stretton, suggest to him, that he checks the file you will have on me. Do you need me to wait while you write it down, or will you remember. 19.30, Flemings Hotel, David Stretton.” He stood up and left, the Americans were talking between themselves, one was taking a phone from his pocket.
He joined up with Trevor in the hotel, their overnight bags were in the store room. After they had collected them, they walked to Trevor’s car. “Are you coming back with me?” “No. I need a lift to Stanmore tube station to pick up my car.” With the address in the satnav, Dave settled in the passenger seat. “When we get to my car, park up beside it, I want to transfer most of the stuff we picked up into mine, some bits I need you to hold onto until the middle of next week.” Dave gave the final directions as they neared the carpark. Trevor pulled in and parked as instructed. It had been nearly full yesterday, now it was almost empty. “I’ve changed my mind, reverse up so we can open the tailgates to hide what we are doing.” He put his clothes and backpack in first, then the suitcase with the money, lastly it was Trevor’s backpack. He took out the laptop and box and turned it upside down. The contents were spread across the boot. He put the laptop back in, opening the suitcase, he counted the bundles, took one of the smaller ones he thought would contain £1000 and gave it to Trevor, “there will be another one when I pick up the laptop. Will that cover your fee and expenses?” “Almost, I might still be a bit short.” “Don’t push your luck, there’s more than enough in that bundle. That’s it Trevor, a job well done. Thank you for your effort. I will see you next week, probably Wednesday, don’t mess with the laptop, if you start it up the wrong way, it may wipe all the information, I might want some of my money back if that happens.” Trevor was keen to leave, guns and a suitcase full of money in a carpark, would take some explaining to any policeman who happened to stop him. “See you Dave.”
Alone in the carpark, he called Sally, “It’s done, it all went well, are you able to come down to London?” “Yes, I don’t have to go in tomorrow.” “Can you bring my suit, shoes and a shirt and tie. I need another pair of trousers, a shirt and a jacket for dinner tonight, you will need ‘smart’ for tonight and your business clothes for a meeting tomorrow. Finally, there is an envelope on my desk, it has photographs inside, can you make sure that it goes into your case. Take a taxi to the station, you need a train to London that stops at Luton Parkway, I will board the train there. Phone me when you are on the train. Did you understand all that? “Yes, when do you want me to leave?” “As soon as you can.” Dave phoned the hotel next, there wouldn’t be a problem with a room tonight, it was Sunday and hotels were never full, it was Monday night he wasn’t sure about. There weren’t any issues, he took the opportunity to book a table for three in the restaurant for that evening.
With the calls out the way he wrapped his Glock and the silencer back up in the towel, he put some of the bundles of notes beside the Glock. The box with the photographs and memory sticks he put in the case with the remaining money. The two guns were wrapped in bits of cloth he found in the boot. All that was left was the bag Trevor had found with all the ID’s, there was space inside for the guns. He had to push on the top of the suitcase to zip it round. The bundles of cash he put in a carrier bag, he lifted up the cover on the floor of the boot to access the spare wheel, he put the bag in and covered it with another piece of cloth, the Glock went into its hiding place. His tools were put in a plastic toolbox which already was full of car items, ice scrapers, screwdrivers, latex gloves, WD40 and a spare set of bulbs. The lock picks and the cable ties wouldn’t be noticed. All that was in his backpack now were the clothes and toiletries he set off with yesterday. It was only a half hour drive to Luton, there was going to be some time to wait. On Google Maps, he saw a Beefeater restaurant along the same road as the station, he would wait there. On the way, his phone had pinged with a message. At the restaurant, he checked before he left the car. It was Sally, she would be there at 14.58, there was no direct train, change at Kettering. That would give him plenty of time for food. The carpark should have given him an indication of how busy it would be, there were no tables, he could have a snack in the bar but it would be a forty-five-minute wait for food. He returned to his car, he had passed a MacDonalds on the way, he waited in line at the ‘drive thru’, there was no way he wanted to eat inside, on a Sunday afternoon, it would be full of kids. He parked in the corner of the carpark, opened the window to allow the smell of chips and burger out, and ate his food in silence. There was a constant procession of cars coming and going, he dumped his rubbish in the nearby bin and decided to drive to the station. The last time he had been there, he had encountered a little trouble, he parked on a lower level this time. He waited in the small café in the station, more coffee and two bars of chocolate. He watched everyone who came up the escalator, he tried to guess their ages, and if they were married or not. At 14.30 he made his way to the platform, he still had half an hour, but he was bored, his backpack was on his lap, the suitcase by his side. He looked round at the people waiting for the same train, studying each one in turn, he wondered if any of them were capable of shooting someone. There was an announcement saying the next train at Platform Three would be the 14.58 to London St. Pancras. Dave stood up and walked to a different position. He wanted to spot where Sally would be on the train as it pulled in. She was in the first coach, he moved quickly along the platform and was sitting beside her before the train moved off. He kissed her, “thank you for being here.” “What’s in the suitcase, you didn’t have that yesterday?” “I’ll show you later.” She reached out to hold his hand, “Where are we going?” “It’s a surprise.” “How did it go?” “Not now, later maybe.” The rest of the journey was mostly in silence, at St. Pancras, Dave carried Sally’s suitcase and the suit carrier. She pulled along the suitcase Dave brought on to the train. “Flemings Hotel please,” the taxi pulled out into the traffic, twenty minutes later, the door of the taxi was being opened by a liveried doorman. He wished them both a good afternoon, the luggage as taken out of the taxi while Dave paid the driver. Neither of them were dressed for the grandeur of the hotel. Sally took Dave’s arm as they entered through the main doors, there was a porter on each side holding the doors open. At reception Dave said he had phoned earlier to reserve a room for two nights. “Mr & Mrs David Stretton.” The receptionist checked on the screen in front of her, “would you fill out these forms please, as it was a telephone booking Mr. Stretton may I take an impression of your credit card.” He took out his wallet and handed the receptionist a gold American Express card. She had written ‘Sally Stretton’ on the registration card, she liked the sound of it. “Room 323 sir, the porter will show you the way.” The luggage had gone, it was already on its way up. Sally looked round at the hotel lobby, she thought it was like the type of place you would see on a TV documentary programme. “We have a dinner reservation for this evening, could you check please?” She returned to her screen. “Yes, 19.30 for three.” Dave thanked her then turned to follow the porter. As they waited for the lift, he asked if they had stayed before. “I have, a couple of times on business.” “Welcome back sir, I hope you enjoy your stay.” “Is there anyone in housekeeping this afternoon, we need some clothes pressing?” Yes sir, would you like me to send someone up?” “Leave it half an hour for us to sort things out,” They were now standing outside the room, the porter unlocked the door with one of the keycards and held it open for Sally to enter. Dave followed, “is there anything else you require?” Dave folded a note into his hand, “would you arrange for coffee, ham and chicken sandwiches and a couple of scones please?” “Yes sir, they will be with you shortly.” He left closing the door behind him. Sally flung her arms round Dave, “I thought we might be in a Premier Inn or a cheap hotel, this is beautiful.” “Unpack and see what needs pressing, my suit will need doing, and my shirts, what about your clothes for tonight and tomorrow?” “Give them the contents of the suit carrier, that will cover everything.” There was a knock at the door, “Room service,” Sally opened the door, a waiter brought in a tray of food and coffee, he left it on a low table by the window. Dave again passed over a folded note. Sally was pouring the coffee and eating a sandwich. Dave joined her, “did you like the ‘Mrs. Stretton’ touch, I thought it would be fun?” She put down her sandwich and kissed him again. “It’s only for the next two nights.” There was another knock at the door, “housekeeping,” Dave opened it this time, He passed over all the items and said they needed to be returned by 18.30. Sally was eating and wandering round the room, she opened the bathroom door, it was huge, there were ‘his and her’ sinks, a bidet, walk in shower and best of all, a whirlpool bath big enough for two. “Come and see this,” when Dave walked in, Sally pointed saying they would both be in there tonight. They sat and finished off the food, “Why is the table booked for three tonight?” “We may have a guest join us, I have no idea who he is, all I know is, he’s an American.” “We have an hour before housekeeping return, what shall we do?” Sally pulled back the covers on the bed, “more of yesterday afternoon please.” “No, there isn’t enough time,” “open the other suitcase then.” He put it on the bed and unzipped it. “This is from Roger Peterson’s flat. Taking out the first bag, he said there were two guns and a load of passports. Next was the box of photographs, he put that to one side. “Bloody Hell, there’s a load of money in there.” “Yes, we found it in his flat.” “What’s in the box?” Dave opened it and pulled out hundreds of photographs, underneath were memory sticks, some were still in blister packs the used ones had numbers on them, He arranged them from one through to sixteen, he left them while he examined the photographs. Sally had already picked some up to go through, “They’re all people having sex, men and women, women together and men together.” Dave flicked through them quickly, every now and then he would stop and stare, he recognised some of the participants. Sally was much slower, she was studying each image, she said to Dave that some of the women were most accommodating. Dave was now looking at pictures that were less clear, they were, he assumed taken covertly, those would need further examination.
Housekeeping knocked on the door to return the clothes, Dave closed the case and opened the door, he thanked the lady who passed everything to him. “We need to get ready,” he put everything back in the case and zipped it shut again. He stripped off for a shower, Sally thought it would be large enough for two, she quickly undressed and joined him.
© 10210ken 2024
