34
The sweeping, tree-lined driveway, the elegant lawns and garden, the brand-new Range Rover parked close to the beautiful double-fronted red-brick house were all very impressive. Joey sat back in the driver's seat of the hire car and nodded. If this was the sort of place where Elena's friends were to be found then his daughter had obviously inherited many of his own ambitious characteristics.
It was a perfect picture of peaceful English country life. Joey guessed that probably the most exciting thing that ever happened in this garden was a gentle game of croquet followed by high tea in the shade of one of those huge shrubs that sprawled across the lawn.
Elena was standing at the front door, having told her dad to wait in the car. Joey didn't mind; he reckoned that once the house owners learned they had driven all the way from London to find his daughter's friend, they'd be invited in for 'refreshments'. And then maybe asked to stay the night. The English were famous for their manners and hospitality.
The front door opened and a youngish man appeared and began talking to Elena. Joey saw him look over in his direction so he smiled broadly, raised his right hand and gave a friendly wave. The man ignored him and went back to talking to Elena. Joey wasn't disappointed. He knew the man was just following the rules of proper, polite etiquette and was waiting until they were formally introduced.
Joey was partly right. The man was being polite but there was no chance of an introduction. 'I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about,' he said to Elena. 'The only visitors here today have been . . . have been official visitors. And the police.'
Elena felt her heart thud in her chest. 'The . . . the police?'
The man took a deep breath and Elena could see that he was struggling to hold back tears. 'My father died last night, a boating accident. So if you'll excuse me, I must get back to my mother. I hope you find your friend, but I'm afraid we can't help you.'
'I . . . I'm sorry.' It was all Elena could say.
The man nodded and closed the door. Elena turned away and walked slowly back to the car. Meacher was dead. A boating accident. It had to be too much of a coincidence. They'd killed him. They must have. Before Fergus and Danny could get to him. But what had happened to Danny and Fergus? Where were they? Elena could only hope they had seen the police at the house and got away quickly.
'What's going on, darling?' asked her dad as she fastened her seat belt. 'We not staying for tea?'
'No, Dad,' said Elena softly. 'Danny's not here, and he won't be coming now.'
'Not even a cup of tea? What happened to English hospitality?'
Joey started the car. 'So what now?'
'We find somewhere to stay for the night. I might be able to contact him online in the morning.'
Joey sighed. At the end of the driveway he turned right onto the narrow road. The car crossed a small bridge across the river and a few minutes later they passed a derelict brick and flint barn set well back from the road.
'Where are you, Danny?' whispered Elena.
Danny was in the barn, his back pressed against the wall as he glanced out through a broken window and watched the car as it passed. That was all that mattered to Danny. The vehicle kept going. It didn't stop. No one jumped out to check the barn.
They'd been at the ERV for over three hours and Danny was determined to stay there, as instructed, for three more. He knew there was little chance of his grandfather having escaped, but he was going to stick to SOPs. His body was battered and bruised; he hurt everywhere, but he ignored the pain. He knew it would go.
Somehow, and it was purely down to luck and had nothing to do with Eddie's driving skills, they had shaken off their pursuers. At the first T junction Danny had shouted, 'Left!' Minutes later, Fran skidded to a halt at the junction, instantly weighed up the fifty-fifty choice and chose to turn right. It was a crucial error and gave Eddie and Danny the time they needed to twist and turn their way through the countryside and eventually reach the ERV.
They hid the car out of sight of the road and then staggered, exhausted, into the barn.
Eddie was a total wreck. Shaking and sweating and pacing around and blurting out that they had to go to the police for protection.
Danny told him that if he wanted to stay alive he'd better sit down and shut up.
'Don't tell me what to do!' yelled Eddie. 'You nearly got me killed back there! I'm just a reporter, this is nothing to do with me.'
'That's what I said at first,' said Danny calmly. 'But you're in it now, Eddie, and believe me, there's no way we can go to the police. My granddad made a plan, we have to stick to it. We wait for him here for six hours. If he doesn't turn up, then I tell you everything.'
'Six hours,' groaned Eddie, glancing around the derelict building, 'but—'
'You don't have a choice,' said Danny. 'I promise you, if you leave here now, you're dead.'
The safe-house compound was like a concrete island, enclosed on all sides by a tight-mesh steel fence, seven metres high. It was surrounded by an open area of ferns and drainage ditches; about eight hundred metres further out in every direction, the dark mass of Thetford Forest blotted out the skyline.
The compound was in the MoD training area, but no squaddies ever went inside and it wasn't marked on any map. It was reached via a mud track leading from the main road into the training area. The track forked to the left and then went through the forest before breaking out into the open area, where the first of many signs gave the stark warning: DANGER KEEP OUT. MOD PROPERTY. DANGEROUS BUILDING.
Eight hundred metres away, along a cracked concrete roadway, were the imposing double gates to the compound. They were as tall as the fence itself. More signs, on the gates and on every side of the towering fence, warned off unwelcome visitors. These ones read: DANGER. UNSTABLE BUILDING – KEEP OUT.
The compound was entirely surfaced with concrete. Straggling weeds grew from the cracks. A drainage ditch ran along the right-hand side of the compound, outside the fence. It cut across the open ground and went back towards the forest.
The safe house sat at the centre of the concrete island. Every window of the two-storey building was covered by the same tight-mesh steel. There was only one door into the building, in the centre, at the front. Behind the main building, and to the right, was a large Nissen hut where the vehicles were hidden.
The steel door opened and Marcie Deveraux emerged, just as a pair of American fighter jets passed overhead as they made their landing approach to the base at Lakenheath.
Deveraux pulled the door shut and stood for a moment breathing deeply. Then she walked behind the Nissen hut and made sure she was out of sight of any of the windows. She took out her mobile phone, checked again that she wasn't being watched, and then punched in a number. It was answered almost instantly.
Deveraux spoke softly. 'Fincham doesn't like the sight of blood so Fran and Mick have had the first crack at Watts. He's not talking yet, sir. It's a pity he was taken this early on in the operation.'
Another pair of jets passed overhead and Deveraux waited until the noise of their engines had died away. 'No, I haven't seen him myself, but Fincham's going to speak to him before he goes back to London for the MPs' reception at the House. He's as determined as we are to find out who else outside the Firm knows that Watts was operating as a K. But if Watts doesn't talk I'm not sure how long I'll be able to keep him alive, sir, not without compromising my own situation.'
She checked out the windows and door as she listened to the voice at the other end of the line. Then she nodded. 'Yes, sir, that was my thought too. At this stage it's worth trying.'
Deveraux ended the call and then took a piece of paper from her jacket pocket. A mobile phone number was written on it.
The six hours were almost up. Danny was outside the barn and Eddie was reading through his notebook when his mobile rang. There was no number displayed on the screen, and without thinking he answered the call.
'Mr Moyes, don't speak, just listen and write this down. Do you have a pen?'
'What? Who is this?'
'I said don't speak. Are you ready?'
Eddie fumbled for the pencil in his coat pocket. 'Yeah, I'm ready, but—'
'Fergus Watts is being held near Thetford. Land-ranger Map, sheet one-four-four. Grid reference eight-two-five-eight-two-five. I'll repeat that once more, Mr Moyes, write it down.'
Eddie scribbled down the map reference as the words and numbers were repeated.
'Read that back to me, Mr Moyes.'
'Landranger Map, sheet one-four-four. Grid reference eight-two-five-eight-two-five.'
'That's correct. It's unlikely that Watts will be alive tomorrow morning, Mr Moyes. You do understand that this isn't a police matter, don't you?'
'Yes, I understand,' said Eddie as Danny walked into the barn.
'Eddie, no. Hang up! Hang up!'
But the caller had hung up even before Eddie moved the phone from his ear.
'It was a woman. She told me where they're holding your granddad. She said he'd probably be dead by the morning. Now, I want some answers, Danny. Why do they want to kill him, and what the hell is going on?'
Danny looked at his watch. The six hours were up. 'Sit down, Eddie. I'll tell you why.'
He told him everything, exactly as Fergus had ordered. About his grandfather's true role in Colombia and Fincham's treachery, and all that had happened since his first meeting with Fincham at the army RCB board. Eddie listened, incredulously at first, but slowly realizing that it all made too much sense to be a lie. All the missing pieces fell into place.
'It's got it all,' he murmured, already seeing the headlines and world exclusive by-line blazed across the Sun. Or the Mirror – it didn't matter. 'Drugs, death, cover-ups, corruption in high places. I won't just get a job with this, I'll win awards.'
'Yeah, but not yet, Eddie. First, we're gonna get my granddad out.'
'What? Are you mad? That call was a set-up. They can't find us and they're using your granddad as bait. If we go there, they'll kill the lot of us.'
'No,' said Danny urgently. 'The call must have been from the woman who saw me at Meacher's. She told me to get away. She helped me then, and I think she's trying to help us now.'
'You think! You think! You're asking me to risk my life again because you think someone is trying to help us? I may look stupid, Danny, but I'm not f*cking crazy. Let's get in the car and go back to London before they pick us up.'
'If they'd wanted to pick us up they could have done it hours ago.'
'Yeah, how?'
Danny pointed at the mobile that was still in Eddie's hand. 'I should have thought of that before. They can be located to within a few metres – I did it myself to trace my granddad. Look, Eddie, you'll have a much better story if you help me rescue Fergus.'
'You're a brave kid, Danny,' said Eddie, shaking his head. 'But I'm no hero. I'm a coward, son, always have been.'
Danny sighed. 'Will you at least drive me to Thetford, so I can get close?'
Eddie delved into his coat pocket for his car keys. 'Yeah, I'll drive you to Thetford. It's on my way.'
'And can I use your mobile? I need to phone a friend.'