Chapter 70
London Euston Towers
5-30 p.m.
April 18th
The CCTV cameras on Baker Street picked up Mason’s image as he walked back to the hotel, but it was rush hour. The large number of Central London CCTV cameras was being watched by an unusually extensive team at Euston Towers and the recordings were being racked up and watched in detail by an extra team dedicated to the task.
It was half an hour after Mason had passed a camera looking at him fully that the DIC watcher at the tower matched him, looking now more like the picture of the morning before, to the image inset on his screen. He sent out a message and other watchers combed the areas CCTV cameras, whilst the roving team were alerted and the police called.
Along with two quickly assembled extra duty teams were Shadz and Jaz, Tony and Ellie, a thirty year old woman put with the team to replace Terry who was greeting Jack Fulton in Liverpool that night. When Mason’s location had come in they had readied themselves and were given lists of hotels in the Baker Street area.
Jack’s Deputy Diane Peters came down to brief the teams. Diane didn’t waste words.
“Be careful, tread softly and carry guns. Find him and get him alive, but if you have to shoot, shoot to kill. Remember how Spencer died, Wally’s murder, Jack Beaumont and what David McKie had to do.” She went to leave the room and suddenly turned. “Everyone to check their weapons.”
They all un-holstered their Sig 220’s, checked the magazines, pumped a round out, pulling back the casing and releasing, twice in succession, reloaded the magazines, pumped the action again and put them on safety. Tony was first to finish.
“Good off you go.” She turned on her heel and took the lift to Jack’s office. In the lift a shiver ran down her spine. To her mind it was all getting out of hand.
They left Euston tower in a three car convoy, each car with four DIC and each DIC pair with a list of hotels and the latest still image of Mason taken from the CCTV footage.
Chapter 71
Baker Street
5-45 p.m.
April 18th
Mason walked confidently into the lobby of the Sherlock Holmes Hotel and looked around. A guest passed him on the way to the stairs with a swipe card. He took a detailed, but surreptitious look at reception. One girl was manning it. He noted her having looked at the clock once or twice. It might be time for her break. The swipe card key given to each guest for their room was the one item which defined his plan. Seeing the guest toilets to one side he went in, closed himself in a cubicle and changed into the kitchen uniform.
He walked through the dining room, catching dark looks from the waiting staff who didn’t like to see kitchen staff in the guest areas. He walked straight into the busy kitchen. Once in he stopped and orientated himself. He saw what he needed to his left, two plates of sandwiches nearly ready to be delivered somewhere.
“Who the hell are you?” A big red faced man with sweat gathering on his forehead and his apron tied under a round gut came to a stop on his left and turned around barking at him.
“I’m Marc a temp agency sent me.”
“I don’t need anyone tonight.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m bloody sure!”
“Alright take it easy. Obviously it’s a mistake.”
The chef calmed a little. “I tell you what just wait here and I’ll go and check.”
“Cheers mate.” Mason replied cockily.
The chef walked off and passed into a door marked office. Mason made his way to the plates of sandwich snacks, walking around as if just taking an interest. He watched the kitchen underling garnish the sandwich plates with salad.
“Not busy right now mate.” The kitchen underling noted his presence, assumed him to be a temp worker and found a job for him.
“No.” Mason said putting a helpful look on his face.
“Good then run these over to the duty manager’s office would you, it’s late arriving already.”
He handed Mason the plates and Mason unable to believe his luck took the two plates of sandwiches, walked out the kitchen door and over to reception. He braced himself.
Back in kitchen the underling took the wrath of the Chef, who called the duty manager’s office and asked him to send the man ‘with the sandwiches’ back to the agency. He then turned with full gusto to his evening’s work.
At reception Mason was his cheery best.
“Hi there, sandwiches for you apparently.” Mason said armed with his warmest smile.
“For me?” The girl asked warily.
“Yeah., you are due a break aren’t you?”
“Well yes, but I can’t eat it here and I don’t usually get them.”
Mason put on his very best smile and came round to the staff side of reception. He knew he didn’t have long, but so far all he looked like was an incompetent yet keen kitchen temp.
“Well I think it’s a treat for not being relieved for a while. I think they want you to eat it here.” He looked around for a staff access pass card and saw it on the desk to her right.
“Oh well it’s the usual disorganisation with staffing. Are you new?” The girl asked a little charmed by his smile and friendly demeanour.
“I’m a temp.”
Putting down the sandwiches in his right hand he stood behind her, placed her sandwiches on the desk with his left hand to her left and whilst her eyes watched it being placed and knowing her to be distracted he took the staff access pass card with its fob from the desk on her right and slipped it into his pocket.
“I’d better go. Enjoy.” Mason picked up the second plate and walked away.
“Could you get me a drink, some mineral water will do?”
“Sure.” Mason said and winked.
Mason made for the restaurant, looked back saw her head dip below the level of the desk to take a bite of the sandwich and he doubled back swiftly to the guest staircase and made his way to the rooms. Once upstairs he started to look for a suitable room. He knew he’d have to be quick.
Chapter 72
Dover
6 p.m.
April 18th
David McKie’s train had taken nearly two hours to get to Dover, nearly half an hour longer than it usually took. There had been a security alert at Charing Cross station and the police, all of them armed, had been checking tickets and faces, making the boarding of the train a slow affair.
It had been a long, start stop journey from there and the train became less and less crowded as it got further south until only David and an old couple with suitcases, obviously headed for the ferry, were left in his carriage. The final run through the cliff tunnels had infused him with memories of home so strong that when the train emerged
