The Hostage (47 page)

Bill went to the window and looked down on to the street. There was nothing out of the ordinary, no unfamiliar vehicles, no one visible. The knock came again. Bill couldn’t ignore it. If it was Kinsella or MI5 he wasn’t going anywhere else. His plans to escape evaporated.

Instinctively, as a precaution, he put his holdall behind the bathroom door and went to the coffee table and picked up the virus carefully. He opened a cupboard, put the vial in the back between some blankets, made sure it was safe and closed the door. The knock came again. He closed Kinsella’s briefcase, put it down beside the empty hatbox, went to the front door, and opened it.

Aggy stood there, framed by the doorway, looking as though she was trying to hide some embarrassment behind her slight smile. His heart fluttered as it always did on seeing her. No memory of her image was equal to the sight of her in the flesh.

‘Hi,’ he said, unable to hide his confusion.

‘I should’ve called,’ she said. ‘I was with a friend just up the road and decided to pop round. I know you said you had to go out but I took a chance . . . Is this a bad time?’

‘No. Just got back actually. He didn’t want to go to dinner in the end . . . I was just about to call you.’ Under normal circumstances he would have been more than just delighted to see her. He would have dragged her in and be ripping her clothes off within seconds of closing the door. All he could think of now was how to get out of inviting her inside. What he would have given for a surprise visit from Melissa any other time. She no doubt wanted to stay the night or she wouldn’t be here. It was what they both originally expected to do that night. What a cruel world this was. He would have to let her in, but just for a minute. He did not have the heart to turn her away and never see her again. Perhaps that’s what this was. Providence had intervened to allow him one more look at her, one more embrace, before it was all to end. He stepped back from the door.

‘Come in,’ he said.

She remained outside on the landing as if the threshold to his flat was a landmine. ‘Would you like to go for a walk?’ she said. ‘It’s a nice night. Maybe we could go to the pub . . . I fancy a walk.’

There was something different about her. He could sense it. Something was on her mind. Why didn’t she want to come in? It suited him perfectly, but it disappointed him at the same time.

‘Sure,’ he said smiling. ‘Let’s go.’

Then he suddenly considered the wisdom of leaving the ‘stuff’ in his apartment. Then again he was going to walk away from it in a very short while anyhow. He stepped through the door and closed it behind him, ensuring it was locked. He winked at her as he went ahead and led the way downstairs. Both their smiles disappeared as he turned his back on her.

 

On the landing, across from Bill’s apartment, a grey fire door with ‘ROOF EXIT’ written on it was wedged slightly open by an empty cigarette packet. Someone in the darkness behind it was looking through the narrow gap. The door slowly opened and Brennan stepped on to the landing and looked down the stairwell that zigzagged to the ground floor.

He regarded Bill’s front door. His brief had been to stay with the bio, but something about the woman’s arrival tweaked his curiosity. They’d left empty handed so the bio was safe enough in the apartment. He made his way down the stairs.

 

Bill and Aggy walked out of the apartment block and up the street. Bill placed his hands in his pockets as they walked along together in silence. Aggy was aware of her awkwardness when Bill opened his door and hoped he’d put it down to shyness. She was warming to the show, trying to act natural, as Stratton had told her to, but it was a different kind of undercover work than she was trained for. The dets for the most part observed, listened, photographed, recorded and followed.They mingled but never adopted false identities or attempted to penetrate society.That was unjustifiably dangerous, difficult, and arguably unnecessary. But Aggy was now mingling with the enemy, only because of her unique circumstances perhaps, but nevertheless.There was something exciting about it. On the other hand, it felt unreal because it was Bill. He was, essentially, still her lover. In many ways she didn’t know this man beside her, but she didn’t feel as if Bill had cheated her. He’d never used her to gain intelligence. He knew or could find out more about the operations she was involved in than she. And she still believed him when he said he had fallen for her.

She put her arm through his. Even though Stratton had warned her Bill was now dangerous she felt sad for him. She looked at him and he glanced at her. They both smiled and walked on.

 

Brennan looked out of the apartment entrance to see Bill and Aggy walking up the street arm in arm. He waited until they were a good distance on before walking out of the building, crossing the street and following them.

 

Stratton remained around the corner in the alleyway where Aggy had left him. He checked his watch. Sumners would be getting agitated. If Lawton was in his apartment, Aggy might find it difficult to get him out of it, especially if he had the virus. What was his plan if she didn’t show? He would have little choice but to go to the apartment himself and take it from there.

He decided to give Aggy another five minutes. Then she appeared with Lawton.

‘Ata girl,’ he said to himself as he watched them cross the street and continue out of sight towards Wandsworth Road.

Eager though he was, he forced himself to wait a moment and give them time to get some distance from the apartment. When he stepped out of the alleyway he quickly ducked back into it. A figure was walking up the road in the same direction as Aggy and Lawton. The person was the other side of the road and Stratton couldn’t make out any features. He could see it was a man with a limp but not much more. Stratton waited for the figure to move on before leaving the alley, crossing the road and heading for Lawton’s apartment block.

As he turned the corner he checked Aggy, Lawton, and the other figure were still walking away. Then he entered Lawton’s building and jogged up the stairs. When he got to the top floor he was a little out of breath, a reminder he had not been working out much lately because of all that had been happening. A month ago a couple flights of stairs would have been nothing. He needed to start putting the miles in again, just one more reason he wanted to see the back of this operation.

He stopped on the landing and paused a moment to survey the scene and listen. There were four doors on this top floor: three apartments and a grey door marked ‘ROOF EXIT’. He walked over and opened the grey door. A flight of stairs led up to another door. He quickly went up the steps and tried the handle. It opened on to the roof. That would be useful if anyone came.

He returned to Lawton’s door and took the small leather case from his pocket and unzipped it. Inside were several finely crafted tools that could easily be mistaken for a dentist’s travel set, each in its own little sleeve. He examined the lock. It was a Yale dead bolt with a fixed collar and several years old. The older the better. He selected a tension spring, a slender piece of flat metal bent at one end, and inserted the short end into the keyhole, bending the other end to apply pressure to the tumblers. He decided to rake the six tumblers first. If that didn’t work he would have to choose a fine pick and push each individual tumbler up until they all cleared the revolver. He slid the rake in, teeth upwards, and pulled it out swiftly while maintaining the spring pressure. He repeated the action without a result. He then raked it back and forth swiftly and suddenly the lock turned under the pressure from the spring and the door opened.

Stratton moved inside and closed the door behind him. He replaced the tools in the case and put it back in his pocket.

Lawton had left the light on. That meant Stratton had to be careful moving around or he would be seen from the street. First rule of searching was to stand and look, divide the room up into quadrants and furnishings and search each section in turn with his eyes before moving from the door. He looked in the bathroom beside the front door and noticed the holdall. He checked it. It was full of clothes. He closed it and took another look at the room. On the floor was a hatbox that fitted Aggy’s description. Beside it was a small briefcase. He’d seen enough and it was time to physically search.

Keeping low he moved to the case, put it on the coffee table and opened it. He noted the two halves filled with sponge one of which had a bottle-shaped cut-out. If he had had any doubts about Lawton’s involvement with the bio this quickly eliminated them. He checked the hatbox. In it was a polystyrene mould that had a similar sized cut-out in the centre. The most cynical intelligence expert would have to concede this was damning evidence. The briefcase obviously didn’t come with the box since there wasn’t enough room in it with the polystyrene, therefore it was quite likely intended to supersede the hatbox as a carriage for the bio. But where was the bio? There was no time to search the entire flat before Aggy and Lawton returned. If he knew for certain the bio was in the building he could close the operation there and then, take care of Lawton, and leave the rest up to a search team. But the bio could be anywhere, hidden outside in a garden or in a car. And so the op would have to go on until they could pin it down. He couldn’t afford to be caught in the apartment or leave any sign he’d been there.

Stratton had to get going, but something was holding him back. He needed some kind of insurance. He just about had time for that.

He took one of the sponges out of the briefcase. There was plenty of it and it was a snug fit. Using a pocketknife he cut a piece out of the back of the sponge and put it in his pocket. He took the three small black hexagonal blocks from a pocket and pulled off the magnets that were stuck to the back of each. They were even lighter now. He flicked a tiny switch on one, arming it, placed them snugly into the sponge, and fitted it back into the briefcase. He weighed the case in his hands to feel if it was noticeably heavier. A person would have to be supersensitive to detect a difference. If it was discovered the game was up but his need for some kind of contingency outweighed the risk he was taking. He put the case back on the floor as it was.

After a quick double-check to make sure he had everything he left the apartment.

He walked down the stairs to the glass entrance, paused to see if the street was clear, and walked out of the building and away.

He pulled out his mobile phone, hit a key and put it to his ear. ‘Sumners? Stratton. No bio but wait. There’s a briefcase with a bottle-sized sponge mould in it. The hatbox is there. All signs indicate the bio is close and that Lawton still has it. I’m pretty sure we can close this down here.’

‘Okay,’ Sumners said, thinking as he listened. He trusted Stratton, but if anything went wrong it was on his shoulders, and there was another set of shoulders above him. And after all, Stratton was just a ground operative. Sumners respected his opinions and usually went with his recommendations, but Stratton would never know the whole picture. And Stratton had his own views on the outcome, and his own politics, which were not always shared by those above. Then there was the operation value, the price one was prepared to pay to have an op succeed. It varied from op to op. Usually the value just referred to equipment and money, but sometimes the price was higher. A ground operative could not be expected to give his life for an operation, but someone else could give it.

‘The wheels are in motion and going as fast as they can,’ Sumners said. ‘We’re setting up a chemical hazard centre about a mile from you. Every biohazard team within two hundred miles is on its way to that centre. The police have been prepped that something big could be going down, though they don’t know what yet. All leave is cancelled and they have literally hundreds of teams earmarked to move to any area in London and seal it off.’

‘And my teams?

‘I understand some are already on the way to you. The others are still on the outskirts of London. When they get to you the package will include an eye in the sky and a link into the traffic camera surveillance system.’

Stratton hoped they would get to him soon. ‘There’s something else,’ Stratton said. ‘I’ve mined the case.’

‘You’ve what?’ Sumners said.

‘I’m flying by the seat of my pants here.’

‘If they find it they’ll know we’re on to them.’

‘If we lose them or the bio we lose everything.’

‘You don’t even know if an explosive charge is enough to destroy the bio.’

‘That’s right. But I should by now.’ Stratton was politely scolding Sumners. Fortunately, in this business, rank was not in your face. Everyone was a professional working their own part of the complex game and it was not inconceivable to ball out the boss if he did something wrong.

‘What kind of charge?’ Sumners asked. He sympathised with Stratton. He was out there on his own and, given the circumstances, the charge was not a bad idea.

‘American Super “X”. Their new lightweight door charge.’

‘I’ll find out and get back to you asap. Don’t use it unless I tell you to, no matter what. It’s possible all it will do is spread the damned virus into the air.’

‘I’m aware of that,’ Stratton said as he approached a major road. A couple turned the corner towards him. ‘Get me my team,’ he said quickly and killed the phone.

All things considered, he felt the balance of control was in his favour, despite the fact he was without a team. His gut feeling was things were okay. He needed to stay lucky; although that was not a good place to be - an op of this magnitude being dependent on luck.

Hank was in the corridor that ran port to starboard, standing at the top of the stairs that led down to the deck where he had been held captive. The door at the far starboard end was closed but the port side door was open. Hank made his way towards it. Holding the SMG close to his chest, the end of the barrel inches from his face, he paused halfway along the corridor outside a cabin door to press his ear against it. There was no sound above the gentle hum of the generator that vibrated the entire ship. He continued on to the port door and peeked out on to the brightly lit deck without extending his head through the doorway. Whatever was beyond the rail and the bright lights of the boat was in complete blackness.