‘Oh Christ, that’s what was in the box,’ exclaimed Dewar. ‘That’s what he must have meant when he told his wife their troubles were over. He’s taken the virus with him. He’s gone to hand it over to the Iraqis!
‘But where?’
Dewar pulled out his phone and called Barron. ‘This is important! Is anything happening at your end right now?’
‘No one’s come out today as yet, if that’s what you mean, but it’s a bit early for them. They don’t usually go round to the coffee shop until the back of three.’
‘You’re absolutely certain none of the Iraqis has left the building?’
‘Absolutely. Why? What do you know that I don’t?’
‘The virus is on it’s way. The hand-over’s happening today.’
‘Where?’
‘I don’t know. It’s going to be up to you and your men to follow any Iraqi who leaves and for God’s sake, don’t lose them!’
‘Roger that. I’ll call you if something happens.’
‘What now?’ asked Malloy.
‘Did Ferguson have a car?’
‘A Ford Escort.’
‘Then he must have taken it. It’s not outside the house. Get the number from his wife. I’ll get the police to put out an alert for it. Malloy went off to do this while Dewar took a last look round the garage before trying to restore the padlock mounting on the door as best he could. He had plenty of time; Malloy seemed to take for ever. When he finally did appear he said, ‘Sorry. She couldn’t remember the number. She’s in a bit of a state. She had to look for the log book.’
Dewar called the police with details of the car, giving instructions that its location should be reported as soon as possible. On no account were they to attempt to stop the vehicle or chase the driver.’ Dewar repeated the instruction so there was no misunderstanding. He didn’t want Ferguson spooked into doing something stupid with the cargo he was carrying.
Dewar and Malloy drove back towards town, unsure what to do until they got word about Ferguson’s whereabouts or of an Iraqi initiative. Dewar became more impatient with each passing minute. He checked his watch. ‘What are the police doing?’ he complained. ‘Surely they must have found the car by now.’ He called in to police headquarters to check for himself. Still no sighting of the car.
‘Might be off the road,’ suggested Malloy.
‘In a car park, you mean?’ said Dewar. He called the police again and asked that car parks in the city be checked. ‘This has A1 priority!’
Half an hour went by with Dewar and Malloy just cruising around the city centre, waiting for news. At three forty, Barron called.
‘Siddiqui and Abbas have just left the building.’
‘Don’t lose them!’
‘Not likely,’ replied Barron. ‘They’re on foot.’
‘What?’
‘It looks to me as if they’re just going round the corner as usual to the coffee shop.’
‘Shit!’ said Dewar. He couldn’t bring himself to even contemplate a scenario not involving the Iraqis. He rested his elbow on the window ledge of the car door and brought the heel of his hand up to his forehead while he thought. ‘That’s it!’ he exclaimed.
‘What’s it?’ asked Malloy.
‘The cafe! The Bookstop Cafe! That’s where the hand-over’s going to be. It’s the one place they never arouse any suspicion by going to. They set it up that way by going there every day! They’re regulars! Ferguson must be going to meet them there! Move it!’
Malloy drove. Dewar called Barron..
‘The hand-over is going to take place in the Bookstop Cafe,’ he said. ‘The Iraqis’ contact is one, George Ferguson, male Caucasian, six two, red hair, early fifties. Is he there yet?’
There was a long pause. Malloy swung the car into Hanover Street and stopped at the traffic lights.
‘Roger that. A male fitting that description is currently inside the cafe’
‘Is his car outside?’ asked Dewar. ‘He couldn’t be sure if Ferguson would have the virus with him or whether he’d leave it in the car. ‘It’s a white Ford Escort.’ He gave the number.
‘Negative,’ said Barron. ‘What do you want us to do?’
‘Ferguson and the Iraqis must not be allowed to leave. As long as they stay put take no action until we find his car. With any luck the virus’ll be in the boot. Once we have that they’re all yours.’
Dewar called the police again and asked them to concentrate their hunt for Ferguson’s car in the area around the Bookstop Cafe but on no account were officers to pass in front of the cafe Ten minutes passed with still no sighting. Dewar could feel the sweat breaking out on his forehead. ‘Come on, come on,’ he urged impatiently. They were now sitting in Forest Road, just round the corner from the cafe Dewar’s impatience made him get out the car. He walked to the end of the road and caught sight of Barron, watching the cafe He called him on the phone. ‘Still inside?’
‘Laughing and talking just like any other day.’
‘And Ferguson?’
‘He’s joined them. There are a couple of books on the table in front of him that he’s just bought. For all the world it looks like he’s just having a cup of coffee before leaving and is chatting to people at a neighbouring table.’
‘Just books? No boxes or parcels in front of him.’
‘Not as far as I can see.’
Dewar looked towards Barron again and saw that he was using the medical school building on the other side of the street as cover for his watch on the cafe ‘The medical school!’ he thought. The police wouldn’t have checked the car park in the quadrangle. It was just conceivable that Ferguson might have left his car there. He said so to Barron.
‘Want me to check?’
‘No, you keep your eyes on the cafe They might try to leave. I’ll walk to the corner and cross the road. I’ll only be exposed for a few seconds. If they’re all inside the cafe, talking I should get away with it.
Dewar pulled up his collar, stuck his hands in his pockets and walked to the corner junction with Teviot Place. He ran across the road and picked a moment when a bus was coming along to hurry up to the entrance of the medical school. The bus shielded him from view from the cafe He looked around the quadrangle at the cars parked there. A man in uniform was walking among them, looking at windscreens for permits. Dewar looked along the line. At the far corner, nearest the building was a white Ford Escort. He couldn’t see the number but he felt sure it would be the one. He hurried over and saw that the number checked out.
Dewar informed Barron and the police. He needed help as quickly as possible
to get inside the car but he didn’t want patrol cars screaming into the quadrangle and uniforms running everywhere.
Barron said that he would send one of his men round. He was in plain clothes, so wouldn’t arouse suspicion; he was more than a match for a Ford Escort.
‘How long?’ asked Dewar.
‘About thirty seconds,’ replied Barron. ‘He’s watching the cafe with me.’
It took the agent a further thirty seconds to break into Ferguson’s car. Dewar searched the interior but found nothing. He pulled the boot release catch and hurried round to lift it up. There was nothing there apart from a travel rug, a few tools and a folding chair.
‘Damn, damn, damn,’ exclaimed Dewar. ‘He left the house with it. He must have it with him.’
‘In the cafe, you mean?’ asked the agent.
Dewar nodded. He called Barron.
‘All we needed.’
‘But you said he doesn’t seem to be carrying anything?’
‘I can only see the top of the table. He could have a bag or a box at his feet for all I know.’
