C HAPTER 30
After Martin Lever had left the Randolph Hotel, Stewart put in a call. “Sir, I think there may be a bit of a situation developing which while not directly involving me I feel obliged to let you know about.”
“Can it wait until the morning?” said Ridley. “Or do we need to discuss it now? Good so it can wait? M y office at 9 am, see you then.”
The next morning Stewart met with Ridley and told him about his conversation with Lever. “Sir, I don't know the background to this, and Naismith is a good officer, if somewhat aggressive and opinionated. I think he is acting on orders from above and I was not sure that you were aware of what is going on.”
“Dawson, you mean?”
“Yes, you know how close he is to the Yanks and this smells of US clandestine activity.”
“OK, I will follow it up, thanks. Dawson is actually in the US at the moment so it will have to wait until Monday.”
CHAPTER 31
Back in Bristol, I went in to the office, Jason tagging along. It was Saturday but there was no news about Adrian and there was loads of work waiting to be done so I thought I might as well get on with it. Alec was also in so we had a chat over coffee and then I went and buried myself in the outstanding paperwork that June had left out on my desk. I reviewed and tweaked the PowerPoint she had prepared for my student lecture; quite an impressive presentation, she had done well. I must remember to compliment her on Monday.
A full in tray, and the results of the stress testing on ForceNet were coming in and the results so far looked good, in fact better than I had expected.
I called Lloyd and found that he also was at work. No news on Adrian, but there had been a sizeable response to the TV appeal. There was one witness report of an incident in Pill where a driver of a car matching the description of my MG had apparently been taken ill and another driver had moved him to his car presumably to take him to a doctor or hospital. There were no corresponding hospital admissions so this could be evidence that Adrian had been abducted not assisted as assumed by the witness. However there were no indications of where Adrian could be now and the only thing the witness could remember was that the car behind the MG had been red, possibly a Ford.
“That sounds like the car that intercepted Jason,” I said.
“Yes it does,” said Lloyd. “Unfortunately the traffic cameras leading on to the motorway where your Jason had his altercation were at the wrong angle to pick up the registration of that car; however digital enhancement of the image has come through and enabled us to identify the driver as Reginald Archer, the other London based heavy that you previously identified when you came in and went through mug shots. We will pick him up if we can find him. The other heavy that Jason so adequately disabled was the big guy, Jackie Peterso n, that you also identified from mug shots.”
“Yes it sounded like him, have you picked him up.”
“No, we have not found him yet, which is surprising as that arm would need treatment and we have an alert out at all local hospitals.”
“Thanks for the update any way,” I said, and hung up.
I worke d for the rest of the afternoon then went out and found Jason and told him that I was going home and that I would be having an early night.
On Sunday I rose early. It was a bright and sunny day and having checked and found that there was no new info on email or voicemail decided I needed to get some fresh air and that a game of golf would probably take my mind off things.
I loaded clubs in to the car and set off to the club. Sunday is usually a very busy day but the Pro said he was sure he could squeeze me in with another group if I gave him some time. He was as good as his word and half an hour later I was on the first tee facing in to a stiff breeze coming up the fairway towards me. This would get rid of the cobwebs!
The Pro had matched me up with a single, a visitor to the area, who therefore did not know the course. That advantage did not help me however. I play off a respectable handicap of 8 but I was really rusty, I had not hit a golf ball for weeks. My playing partner visitor claimed a handicap of 10 and proceeded to thrash me. I bought him a drink in the bar afterwards and then set off home.
At home I decided to do some work in the garden. I am not a keen gardener with green fingers, but I enjoy organising gardens as part of the process of refurbishing a house, and this house I had refurbished, or had paid someone else to refurbish, right from scratch.
The house was an old 17th century barn which when I bought it a few years ago had been partly converted. It had an old well in the small front courtyard and the remains of cow byres to one side. However the house was on cesspit drainage when I bought it and those who have experience of cesspit drainage will know how unsatisfactory it can be, particularly after heavy rain. The whole upstairs of the barn had previously been converted to domestic accommodation, but the downstairs remained little more than garage space. So I had put in mains drainage, stairs down to the lower level of bedrooms, two modern bathrooms, and a modern kitchen. The resulting house was an upside down house in that to enter you climbed a set of outside steps to a porch over the front door and the living rooms were on the first floor. One then went down the internal stairs to the bedrooms. The old stone walls were more than two feet thick and helped maintain a steady temperature summer and winter. The lounge had a high vaulted roof, but spaced down the room there were two of the original horizontal 15 inch square wooden cross beams at a height of five foot ten inches which meant that someone like me at 6 foot plus, had to duck in the appropriate places when crossing the room. Quirky, but I loved it, it was quiet out in the countryside and the log fire in the lounge in winter was really welcoming.
Jason came out in to the garden. “You went off without me this morning?” he said.
“Yes, I felt like a game of golf and didn't think it was necessary to get you up.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“You don't have to but if you have nothing better to do you can give me a hand. I plan to spend the afternoon working on the old cow byres. I use them as storage sheds for the lawn mower and other tools, but the old stone walls are starting to crumble and need repair.
Coming back in to the house, as it got dark, I was exhausted and had a shower.
Returning to the lounge I shouted to Jason who was in the shower, “Jason do you want a beer?”
“Please.”
“I am going to be boring and do my standard pasta for dinner. Will that be Ok for you?”
“Sure, although you don't have to cater for me.”
“That’s OK, but I am pretty wacked so I will disappear to bed for an early night afterwards.”
“OK, let me contribute by washing up.”
“Suits me.”
Before I could get to bed however there was a phone call. The caller refused to identify himself but in an American drawl said. “I have been asked to give you a message. Watch the news on TV, this changes eve rything for you and your brother.” He then hung up.
I immediately grabbed the remote and switched on the TV to get the news and had to impatiently sit there waiting for it to come back on as it went through its countdown process to the hour.
The breaking news was a report that last night the Vice President of the United States, while attending a function at the White House had been struck down by a heart attack. He had been rushed to a specialist heart unit in Washington but was reported dead on arrival.
Wow! I thought. Where does that leave us all? The caller said it changes everything. What will happen now? The call in effect confirms that they have Adrian.
I called Lloyd and told him of the call and the news.
