31
The team were on their way to Meacher's. Fran checked her map and gave her orders over the net as she drove.
'Mick, it looks like a long driveway. I want you to get a trigger on where it meets the road. I want to know who drives in and out.'
'Mick, roger.'
'Roger that. Jimmy and Brian, I want you to get a trigger on the house itself. I want to know who's in there before the boss arrives. Roger so far?'
'Jimmy, roger.'
'Brian, roger.'
All four members of the team were taking different routes towards Meacher's house. Fran was in the area first. She pulled her VW Polo into a lay-by next to a small river and parked near where a couple of families were feeding the ducks.
That's Fran static about seven hundred metres south of the target. At the bridge over the river. I'll stay complete.'
Fran knew that Jimmy and Brian would have to go foxtrot to do their job. Mick might need to do the same, so someone had to be with their vehicle, ready to react if there was a drama. She opened the glove compartment and took out a sweaty cheese and onion sandwich bought from a garage the previous day for the journey to Norfolk. There had to be an innocent reason for stopping in the lay-by, so she walked towards the ducks, breaking off bits of the sandwich and throwing them onto the riverbank.
Some of the ducks came waddling towards her, squawking and flapping, but after a few half-hearted pecks at the bits of sandwich they turned away and went back to the other food on offer. Maybe they just didn't like onion.
Jimmy parked up about a hundred metres from the driveway, down a muddy track that led into a wooded area. The track was just wide enough for a vehicle and was deeply rutted with tyre marks. Where it petered out, flies buzzed around an overflowing bin surrounded by tied-up plastic bags. This was dog-walking territory.
Jimmy got on the net to organize an RV with Brian, who was parking up nearby.
'Jimmy's foxtrot.'
Fran went back to her car as the families drove away. She sat in the driver's seat with the door open. A few of the ducks waddled around nearby in the hope of picking up something more appetizing than cheese and onion. Fran got on the net.
'Mick, you there yet?'
He was working his way through the undergrowth opposite the entrance to the driveway. It wasn't ideal – Fran would have preferred two cars ready to react to any situation – but it was the only way he could get a trigger. His Gore-Tex gave him some protection from the wet foliage and leaf litter but it was hard going. Finally he could see the driveway.
'Mick has the trigger on the driveway. I can't see all the way up to the house but I can see in both directions along the road.'
Jimmy and Brian settled on a place to climb over the garden wall on the green side of the house. The wall was over three metres high at that point, but there were trees still in full leaf on the far side that broke the line of the top. They would give them cover as they crossed.
Jimmy got his back against the wall, bent his legs and cupped his hands between his thighs. Brian stepped back a little, jammed his right foot into Jimmy's hands and, using his partner's hands as a stepping stone, launched up at the wall. He grabbed the top and hooked his arms over to anchor himself. As Jimmy pushed Brian's foot upwards, he turned to face the wall.
It took a few seconds before Brian was bent over the wall. He stayed low, using the tree foliage for cover and turned round so that his legs were dangling down on the garden side and his top half was bent down towards Jimmy. Then he held his arms out. Jimmy jumped up and, like acrobats, they grabbed each other's wrists. Jimmy walked up the wall, almost turning upside down before he got one leg over the top so that Brian could let go of his wrists and grab his body to pull him up.
They dropped gently into the garden and then stopped, and listened, and tuned in to their new environment.
'That's Jimmy and Brian garden side. On green side of house.'
'Roger that.'
The two men began crawling forward, staying behind a row of shrubs that mirrored those on the opposite side of the garden. They decided on an OP at the end of the shrubs. It gave them an adequate view of the front of the house, the garden on the opposite side of the drive and the two parked vehicles.
'Jimmy and Brian have the trigger on the house. No sign of life. Two vehicles. Silver Nissan Micra, November Papa Charlie six-four-zero November. The other's a police patrol car.'
Jimmy could clearly see the wet gravel beneath the police car.
'It arrived after the rain; the Nissan hasn't moved all night.'
In Fincham's car Marcie Deveraux was also listening in on the net through her earpiece. She relayed the information to her boss.
Fincham shrugged. 'The local plod giving Mrs Meacher the news of her husband's unfortunate accident. I do hope she's not the hysterical type, I want to get this over quickly.'
Jimmy came on the net.
'Stand by. Stand by. That's the front door opening . . . two police, towards their car. A possible Mrs Meacher at the door. She's gone inside, door closed. That's the police complete . . . engine on . . . wait, now mobile towards the main. Now unsighted.'
Deveraux listened intently while checking the map on her lap. They were just a few miles away. 'The police have just left Meacher's house.'
Fincham nodded. 'Tell Fran that if the team give the all clear we'll go straight there.'
Deveraux had to wait while the police were taken out of the area by the team. Mick picked up the patrol car as it reached the end of the drive.
That's the police at the main. Wait. Wait. That's gone right towards you, Fran.'
He continued watching until the vehicle disappeared along the road.
That's now unsighted.'
In their OP, Fergus and Danny watched as Mrs Meacher went back to the side room, picked up the telephone and dialled a number.
'What's going on?' whispered Danny.
'Dunno. But I'd like to know what that call's about.'
Mrs Meacher spoke for about five minutes. Soon after she had put down the receiver, the Mercedes swept up the drive and came to a halt where the police car had been a little earlier. Fincham and Deveraux stepped out of the car and went to the front door.
'Him,' breathed Danny. 'How could he know we're here?'
'He doesn't. Maybe they've come to warn the colonel about us.'
Mrs Meacher came to the door. Fincham, looking solemn and concerned, shook hands and then introduced Deveraux. Mrs Meacher led them into the house and they entered the side room.
On the other side of the garden, Jimmy and Brian kept the rest of the team informed of everything they were seeing.
'That's all three complete the house. Now unsighted.'
Caroline Meacher was old school, army officer's wife, born and bred to accept even the worst of news with the stiff upper lip of the ruling classes. If she was surprised at the swift and sudden arrival of Fincham and Deveraux, she didn't mention it. Her years of close contact with the Regiment had taught her to expect the unexpected.
She offered them tea, which they politely refused, and Fincham spent the next couple of minutes telling her what a great man and servant to his country her husband had been and how he would be missed by everyone who knew him.
Fincham oozed charm and concern but Mrs Meacher didn't appear to be impressed. 'Did you actually know my husband, Mr Fincham?'
Fincham smiled his most sympathetic smile. 'Sadly, only by reputation, Mrs Meacher, and I consider that to be my own personal loss.'
Deveraux cringed inwardly. 'Is there anything we can do for you, Mrs Meacher?'
'Thank you, but no. I've telephoned my son; he and his family live nearby. They were the reason we retired to Norfolk. We wanted to see more of our grandchildren.' She was silent for a moment and her eyes grew moist. 'My son and his wife will be here within the hour.'
Fincham glanced at Deveraux. He wanted the questioning over before the other mourners joined the party.
Fergus had to know what was going on inside the house. He started to push himself backwards towards the rear of the bush. 'I need to find out what they're talking about. Pull the bung back into position when I'm outside.'
'Wait,' said Danny. 'Let me do it. I can get there quicker than you.'
Fergus hesitated, reluctant to let his grandson move into more danger. But he knew what Danny said was true. 'Be quick, but don't rush.'
Danny pushed himself back, carefully kicked out the bung, and crawled out. As he moved away, Fergus pulled the bung back into position and watched as Danny used the tracks already made in the grass to go behind the line of shrubs and get closer to the window.
The damp from the cold, wet grass seeped through to Danny's skin but he ignored it and focused on his route to the window. He reached the end of the row of shrubs and moved into open ground to cross to the window.
Jimmy and Brian spotted him instantly.
'Stand by. Stand by. That's Danny in the garden. Danny in the garden.'
Deveraux's eyes widened as she heard the words in her earpiece. Fincham was cautiously questioning Mrs Meacher, totally unaware of what was happening outside.
By the bridge, Fran had slammed the car door shut and started the engine on the first 'Stand by'. Ducks squawked and scattered and flew into the air as the Polo hurtled away towards the house. Fran pressed her gearstick pressel.
'Roger that. Marcie, what we doing? Leaving, lifting or killing?'
There was no immediate answer. Fran knew that Deveraux couldn't speak on the net with Mrs Meacher in the room.
'Use click system, Marcie. Repeat, leaving, lifting or killing?'