The driver looked like your typical 1950's East End villain stereotype. Late forties early fifties, thin faced and balding with his remaining hair left long and plastered across to conceal it, oversize jacket hanging on a spare frame, and a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth. Could have been one of the Krays! “For gods sake put that out!” and, “what the hell went wrong Reg,” said Dawson in a raised voice. “This was a simple straight forward job. You were to hurt him a little as a warning, not try and kill him!”
Reg wound down his window and threw his cigarette out. “Don't know what happened Guv. Haven't got to the bottom of it yet.”
“Well you need to get a grip on this. First you need to find him and keep track of him and it needs to happen quickly! If we find him first I will let you know but keep me updated. Don't touch him unless I say so.”
“OK Guv.”
With that, Dawson got out of the car slamming the door, and drove off in his own car, tyres screeching.
Back at the office, Naismith had returned as ordered and sat talking to Anne while waiting for Dawson to return. “Watch out, he is in one hell of a mood” said Anne. “Something seems to have gone wrong. After he had a call this evening I thought he was going to implode! I have never seen him so angry. He thinks he hides it, but after 5 years I know all the signs, and he was looking as mean as I have ever seen him.”
“He's always mean and nasty,” said Naismith. I don't know how you could have stayed with him so long, and working these hours!”
“Money's good!” she replied.
At that point Dawson walked in and called Naismith to follow him in to his office and shut the door. He threw a set of photo's and background notes on to the desk in front of Naismith and said. “Drop everything else. Whatever it takes we have to find this man and quickly, so tell your team no more lazing around and get to work. When you've found him, don't go near him, just set up a tail and let me know immediately.” Dawson filled in the details of the last known location of Martin Lever and without another glance started working on his computer. Naismith picked up the papers and left, shrugging his shoulders as he passed Anne.
CHAPTER 5
In the meantime I was in a hotel out at the airport. There had been a pair of walking boots in the car boot, and while they were a little small and were not smart they looked a lot better and less noticeable than the white hospital slippers. They would do for now. I had dumped the car in the long-term car park, caught the courtesy bus in to the terminal and then a hotel courtesy bus to the Hilton. Checking in had seemed to take forever and I had paid cash which all hotels hate, as they like the flexibility of getting and logging the plastic details. To explain the lack of luggage I had told the reception that the airline had lost it and to let me know if the airline rang with any news of it.
In the shop in the foyer I had purchased a range of painkillers and then gone to my room. I was seriously hurting. There did not seem to be any part of my body that did not ache, even my feet were protesting at being crippled by the undersized boots! I hung the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the outside of the door, locked it and then closed the room curtains. In the bathroom I opened my pills, got some water and taking what I guessed would not be a fatal overdose, stripped off my clothes as I walked back in to the bedroom and collapsed on the bed. I hoped I had bought some time as I needed to sleep, and I did.
CHAPTER 6
In down town Bristol Alec Bell paced his office. It was late, everyone else had gone for the day and he also needed to get home and get some sleep. It had been a long day, not unusual at the moment, but a day that had started early with the news of the car crash and that Martin was in hospital. Martin was his technical director and a good friend. He was a key part of the company's future and a vital part of the team, particularly at the present time.
Visiting the hospital he had found Martin unconscious or asleep but a doctor had told him that he was not seriously injured, concussion, severely bruised ribs and some severe skin abrasions was the likely verdict. They would know for sure later when he'd had some rest and came round from the sedative. Alec had been surprised to see that the police were still at the hospital, and while they would not say anything specific it appeared that the car smash might not have been a straightforward accident.
Bell was CEO of Control Networks Ltd., and as he paced his executive office on the 25th floor of the Control Networks building he wondered if this was just an accident or whether something much more sinister was going on. This niggling thought just added to the tension in his gut. For once he was oblivious to the magnificent view from his office looking down over the sprawling city lights of Bristol, with the harbour and the SS Great Britain a marvellous spectacle below him, and in the distance the Clifton Gorge and the illuminated Brunel's Suspension Bridge clearly visible despite the rain.
CHAPTER 7
As I opened my eyes I could not, for a moment, remember where I was. Then it came flooding back. The sun light was doing its best to get round and through the clos ed curtains, a nice day perhaps? I rolled over and a pain shot up my side. After a few moments I tried again and slowly put my legs over the side of the bed, grabbed some pills and staggered to the bathroom. In the bathroom I splashed water over my face and washed the pills down with water. I felt groggy, so I stuck my head under the shower and let it run. After a while I lathered those areas not covered by my chest bandage and washed my hair. It never failed, a hair wash always wakes me up and gets me thinking at normal speed, and I almost felt human again. Drying myself as I stepped back in to the room I took a further dose of pills; providing I was careful the ribs seemed to be under control. Sitting on the bed I started to draw up a list of things to do.
In the short term I needed a pair of shoes. Then I needed to get out of the hotel. I had been careful not to use a credit card but the airport and surrounds were bristling with CCTV cameras so presumably I would be traced before long. Which led me to another thought. If they, whoever they were, were able to trace my card use then I had to use cash that meant I needed more than I was currently carrying and could get from an ATM. I had better get to the bank.
I dressed, went down stairs, settled the bill, and caught the courtesy bus back out to the airport where in a shoe shop I bought a pair of trainers. Further along the airport mall I bought some underwear and socks, shirts, a pair of Jeans and a corduroy jacket. Next door I bought a cheap travel bag and in the gents bathroom dressed in fresh clothes. I had to get a move on. There had been no alternative but to use a credit card so if and when they did get on to that I did not want to be around.
I caught the bus in to Bristol and walked to the bank just round the corner from the office. I filled in a withdrawal form for 5,000 cash and after extensive identity checks the cashier disappeared, possibly to check with higher authority; a nerve racking few minutes in the semi paranoid state I was in. After what seemed an age the cashier returned with additional cash from the safe, logged it in to her till and then counted out my? 5,000. At my request it was mostly tens and twentys, although they did top it up with fifties. Apparently the short notice made that necessary. The cashier looked on as I stuffed a thousand in tens and twenties in to my jacket pocket and put the rest in to the travel bag.
Outside the sun was shining and it was a lovely day. The bank was at one end of a shopping mall and I wandered down the pedestrian precinct until I found a coffee shop. Inside I queued up and ordered a large latte, but in a mug; I hated latte in a glass. It was not on the menu but I established that they could do me a bacon sandwich and picking up a sachet of HP sauce on the way went and found a table in the gloom at the back of the
