Having dropped off his suitcase, he was in Records at 09:00, he sat at a reading table, he opened his briefcase, took out his notepad and a packet of biscuits. There were boxes of files ready for him to search through. Now with a coffee, he took two files from the first box. He read a summary on the opening page, if he thought it was of interest, he read on, if not, it was put ready to be returned. It was laborious work, at lunchtime he left the windowless and stuffy room. Outside he walked along the riverbank for thirty minutes, it was then back to work. He finished off the day by reading through three possibilities he had found. There were links to Manchester, but nothing he thought would help him, Dave wrote the file numbers down, just in case. At 18:00 he decided he had done enough.
Sir George Dawson was waiting in the office block of Dawson Recycling in Acton. “What fucking kept you, I’ve been here an hour, I’m not paying you to sit in fucking service stations. Get the stuff out the van and come in.” He waited until they were all in the reception area. “You are all booked into a local Travelodge, Tony will sort out the bills, he will pay for your meals, if you want a drink, you buy it yourselves, I’m not paying for you to get pissed. If anyone gets drunk, they will be on their way, there is to be no fucking about on this job. Tony has a list of jobs for you all to do.” He stood to one side as Tony delegated tasks for each person. Today was to be about preparation, tomorrow the real work would start.
Dave phoned Sally before he had dinner, he had decided to eat in a local Greek restaurant. It was quiet, there were only a couple of other tables occupied, the food was very good. Back in his room, he sent Sally a message saying he loved her. When he woke in the morning, she had replied. It was the same routine on Tuesday, except it was raining, he stood outside anyway, enjoying the natural light. He was ploughing through the files, by the end of the week, he hoped it would be done.
Over in Acton, work had started, Tony had three men in the first floor offices, each had a pot of black paint, he instructed them to paint every external window black, two others were ordered to do the same downstairs. Sir George arrived around 11:30 to inspect the work, upstairs, he selected one of the offices, “Tony, I want this one painting white, the walls, ceiling and floor, paint the internal windows white as well. I want the TV mounted on the end wall, and the barber’s chair brought up and put in here, don’t do it until the paint has dried. Don’t fuck about, I want it done by tomorrow morning. He looked downstairs to see what had been done there. Walking through a door into a small warehouse attached to the offices, he looked round. He shouted for Tony, his voice echoed round the empty space and into the offices. When he came into the warehouse, Sir George wanted to know if the roller shutter had been tested, “I did it myself, it’s a little noisy but it goes up and down.” “Keep the bastards working, I want it ready by tomorrow night. Thursday you can lie in, in the afternoon, I will tell you all what’s happening, assign tasks, on Friday morning we go.”
For Dave, Wednesday was a repeat of Monday and Tuesday, the only good thing was he would see Sally later. He wanted to finish early but a file he was reading kept him there, he thought it might lead somewhere, he didn’t return it to Records, he placed it in a separate box. The files were dwindling, he hoped all this hadn’t been for nothing, there must be something somewhere. He was pleased to see Sally, they hugged for a long time. She asked, as she had done each day, how it was progressing, he didn’t need to answer, she could tell by the look on his face. “Have you seen Jane?” “No, I’ve been in Records, I haven’t gone anywhere near her,” “Go up to her floor tomorrow, find out how she is, I want to know.”
The Wednesday inspection in Acton was going well, Sir George had said where he wanted the barber’s chair to be fixed to the floor. He had a desk and two chairs brought in and set some way back from the barber’s chair which one of the men was screwing down to the floor in the middle of the room. The TV was switched on, Sir George placed the laptop he had been carrying on the desk and switched it on, he linked the laptop to the TV and checked it worked. “Have you got the tape, scissors and cutters.” Tony picked up a small box from the corner of the room, he handed it over. The contents were removed and placed precisely on the desk. “Out the room and close the door, no one goes in here again until I say so. I want everyone here at midday tomorrow, no one will leave until I am sure everyone understands the plan for Friday.”
Sally was heading for the shops, she wanted retail therapy. Dave took the lift up to the floor Jane Goodley was on, he knocked on her door, she didn’t know it was him on the other side. She opened the door, “Oh, it’s you, what do you want?” “It’s a social call.” He said nothing else, he wanted Jane to answer. She spoke in a low voice, “not now, the bench at 13:00.” He closed the door and returned to Records. There were several files he wanted to read later, at 12:45, he left to sit on the bench overlooking the river. His eyes were closed when he sensed someone sitting down beside him. Jane Goodley was there, “How are you?” “Fine,” “can I have the truthful answer please?” “Why are you such a bastard, you know how I am?” “Are you better than last Friday evening?” “Yes, David this isn’t easy for me, I shouldn’t have involved you, it’s mixing business and personal, the two should be separate.” “What about Ruth, is she back in your bed?” “You can’t ask me a question like that, it’s none of your business.” “I’ll take that to be a no at the moment, but possibly in the future.” “How do you work that out?” “Your answer was neither a denial or confirmation, so I guess you are both still working on it. If she makes you happy then why not. If she’s knocking, let her in, life’s too short not to be happy. You’re probably two more mature people now, you should be able to work it out.” “So, not only do you solve difficult cases, you also do a line in relationship counselling.” “I hate you at times, you appear to know what is going on in my head, it’s disconcerting. Will you thank Sally for me, she helped me a lot last Friday. It’s not easy to do it at work.” “Did you tell Ruth about the incident?” “Little bits, she doesn’t know the full extent.” They walked back into the building together, Dave returned to the monotony of the files. There was one which mentioned Manchester several times and involved a shooting, two men in their twenties had been shot in Cambridge by Security Services. It was now 19:00, he wanted the file photocopying, the young lad on nights said he would have it done in fifteen minutes. Dave phoned Sally to say he would be at the hotel in about forty minutes. They met in the lobby, Dave wanted to eat, he explained about the file he had printed out. “I think there may be something in this one.” Later, Sally ran him a bath, he read some of the file as he soaked. One of those shot had been from Manchester, a Peter Dawson, he was twenty five, had been to university in Cambridge, he had joined a radical group whose ultimate aim was to overthrow the government. The group was on a watch list, as were many others. It was only when they were reported to be looking for weapons, surveillance had taken place. Two handguns and two army grenades were bought, not enough to start a revolution, but enough to kill or maim people. The meeting place for the group was either in a pub or the flat Peter Dawson rented. It was decided to raid the flat, a team was dispatched to carry out the raid. As the door was kicked in shots were fired towards the door from inside the flat. Two were hit, not seriously, one in the leg, the other lost part of an ear. Fire was returned and the two inside were killed, Peter Dawson and Charles Stilman. The case officer who authorised the raid was Jane Goodley. The bath water was by now cold, Dave got out and dried himself off, he passed the pages he had read to Sally. “I’ve heard the name Dawson somewhere else in connection with this.” Dressed, he fired up the laptop, he logged into the Coroner’s section of the local council, he wanted to read the inquest report. It was held in front of a jury, taking place over five days, the report had said there were frequent interruptions from the public allowed in. Due to the nature of some of the details the public were removed to allow those who took part to give evidence without being identified. On the fifth day, the jury retired to consider their verdict, it didn’t take long to consider the facts, they returned two hours later. A verdict of ‘lawful killing’ was reached. There were more shouts from the public area, there was nothing to say what had been shouted. Dave switched to the local paper, he searched the same date as the outcome was reached, then the following day. He found a report from the inquest, there was also a statement from the father of one of the two killed. Sir George Dawson said the Security Services had murdered his son, he blamed the operatives who had pulled the trigger and the person who had been in charge of the operation. He stated she was personally responsible for ordering his murder and would be held to account at some time in the future. Dave wondered if that was a threat. He stood up, Sally was looking through his notes, Dave rang room service and asked for coffee to be sent up. “What are you doing, you’ve been through the papers already?” “I’m looking for something.” Dave went into the bathroom, when he was in the bedroom, Sally handed him a sheet of paper. “The car in Dagenham, the registration on it was from a car scrapped by Dawson Recycling.” He looked at the paper, then kissed her, “our first breakthrough.” He looked up Dawson recycling on the Companies House website. Sir George Dawson was the only shareholder. Sally opened the door for room service to bring in the coffee, Dave was looking at the website for Dawson Recycling, it was a typical site listing their branches, the services they offered, how environmentally friendly their processes are and a section on their history.
He looked at the branches, Lancaster was there together with four in Manchester, Wigan and Bury. It also listed a closed branch in Acton, west London.
Sir George Dawson spent over three hours going over what everybody had to do. There was a large street map of south London on a wall. He had pointed out various locations, routes to be taken and alternate options. He said for them to drive to the locations, make themselves familiar with the area, look for suitable spots, then return, he would be waiting for them.
At 19:30, they were all back, Tony brought out a box, unloaded on Monday, but still sealed, inside were seven handguns of varying makes and styles. They had been acquired over several years, each one had a name attached to it on a tag. “You will pick these up in the morning, along with ski masks. There is to be no drinking tonight, I want you here, ready to go at 05:00.
It hadn’t been light for long when they assembled. The number plates were changed on the van and car, Tony passed round a box, “everything in here, wallets, phones and anything else that might identify you. Two in the car, two in the front of the van and three in the back, take your gun and pick up a ski mask. Anyone not know what they are doing, once we are in position there will be no talking.” Sir George now spoke, “if you fuck up, don’t come back here, you are on your own.” He passed a phone to Tony, “call me when you are five minutes away, I will have the roller shutter up.” He lowered his voice for the next part. “If anyone is injured, make sure they don’t talk.” Turning to address the rest of the men. “Fuck off now and do your job.” He watched them go, he went back inside, sat behind reception, put his phone on the desk, took off his watch and folded the metal strap so he could see the time. From inside his jacket, he took out a gun placing it beside the phone. Sir George sat back, closed his eyes and waited.”
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