27
George Fincham and Marcie Deveraux were waiting in London when the scanned pages of Eddie's notebook came through. Mick had gone back to the car, plugged the scanner into the lead from his Blackberry and sent it by e-mail.
Fincham read the pages quickly, looking for a sign, a clue, anything that would help unravel the mystery of what Eddie Moyes was up to and why he was in Norfolk. And then he saw the name. 'Meacher. Of course, Meacher.'
'Meacher, sir?' asked Deveraux.
'Watts's CO when he was in the Regiment. He would have known that Watts had been recruited as a K.'
'It must have been a kick in the teeth to him and the Regiment when Watts turned traitor.'
Fincham didn't reply immediately and Deveraux watched her boss intently. His face remained impassive when he eventually spoke. 'There are security issues here, Marcie, and I don't want Moyes stirring up things with Meacher. These Regiment men stick together. Who knows what he might say?'
'What could he say, sir?'
The question was straight and direct but Deveraux didn't get a straight and direct answer.
Fincham was looking through the scanned pages of the notebook, reading Eddie's notes of his conversation with Mrs Meacher. 'We'll go up to Norfolk in the morning and speak to Meacher. Remind him of his loyalties. Official Secrets Act, that sort of thing.'
'If you think it necessary, sir.'
'I do.'
'Then shouldn't we go now?'
Fincham was still looking at the notes. 'Meacher is away sailing. Coming in to Blakeney on the morning tide.'
He went to the window and looked out into the darkness and the slow-moving river Thames. 'I've sailed there myself. It's a difficult entry at the best of times, but highly dangerous in the darkness at low water. He won't risk it tonight; he'll be anchored on the bar just off Blakeney Point now.'
'And this is significant, sir? Only I'm not much of a sailor myself.'
Fincham turned from the window and smiled. 'Highly significant, Marcie. It means that we can both go home and get a few hours' sleep. Be ready to leave first thing.'
Deveraux got up from her chair. 'Very well, sir. I'll see you in the morning then.'
Fincham nodded a goodnight and Deveraux left the room. Fincham waited in the silence for a few moments and then picked up his mobile phone and punched in a number. The call was answered after two rings.
'Yes, sir?'
'Fran, good work tonight, well done.'
'Thank you, sir.'
'But it's brought to my attention a serious security risk. There's more for you to do.'
The last diners had left the hotel restaurant overlooking Blakeney Quay. The last drinkers had made their way from the pub. The last lights in the waterfront cottages had been extinguished.
The team was ready, about to 'borrow' one of the RIBs moored to the quayside. It would have been easy just to steal the boat, power up the engine and hurtle off down the creek towards the sea. But the job Fincham wanted carried out had to look like an accident, so taking the boat had to be done covertly.
The plan was simple. The RIB had been identified and selected an hour earlier, when there was still movement on the quayside. Now it was deserted.
Jimmy had done a walk-by to check that nothing had changed since the boat was chosen. Now he was standing in the shadow of a building on one side of the quay. Mick was out of sight on the opposite side. They had the whole area covered. Fran and Brian were sitting in their vehicle waiting for the go-ahead.
Jimmy got on the net.
'Jimmy's static. All clear.'
'Mick's static. All clear.'
It was time for Fran and Brian to move. Fran went on the net.
'Fran and Brian foxtrot.'
They got out of the vehicle. No interior light came on to attract inquisitive eyes. On the back seat of the car were two red plastic fuel cans. There was an outboard on the RIB but no owner in his right mind would have left fuel in it.
Fran locked the car and they walked towards the RIB. There was no need to talk or look around: Jimmy and Mick were covering them.
Brian climbed down into the boat and then turned and took the fuel containers from Fran, who followed Brian into the RIB. He was already sitting on the boat's rubber side, starting to connect the fuel line that led from the massive Yamaha 75 engine to the first fuel container.
The RIB was tied up to the quay in the conventional way with a knotted bowline, but then doubly secured with a motorbike lock and chain. Fran got busy with her MOE wallet. She put her Maglite in her mouth so she could use both hands and quickly found a key that worked.
The RIB was almost ready to go. All Fran needed to do was study and remember the bowline knot. It had to be retied in exactly the same way when the boat was returned.
Brian slowly removed the two paddles that were latched down on each side of the boat as Fran untied the knot. Then she went on the net.
'That's Fran ready to go.'
'Jimmy's foxtrot.'
He picked up the sports bag at his feet and headed towards the RIB.
Mick was also carrying a bag.
'Mick's foxtrot.'
They reached the quayside together and slowly got down into the boat before opening the bags. Inside were four sets of Gore-Tex jackets and trousers taken from their ready bags.
Fran and Brian pushed the boat away from the quayside and began to paddle gently towards the sea while Mick and Jimmy started to get changed.