She unravelled it. ‘It’s a camouflage jacket,’ she said.
‘No one will see you then, will they?’ he said.
She regretted it as soon as she said it. A lot of civilians wore camouflage clothes. She pulled it on and they walked along the pavement together. He put his hands in his jacket pockets and stuck an elbow out towards her. She looped her arm through his and they fell into step.
‘Can I ask something?’ she said.
‘What?’
‘What were you talking about? How to destroy something and flush it down the toilet?’
‘Just keep your mind on the business in hand.’
She had been scolded, but she couldn’t tell if it was Stratton’s usual hard-arse attitude or peevishness at her relationship with Bill. They turned the corner. Up ahead, on the right side of the street, were the two apartment blocks. ‘The second one,’ Aggy said.
Her eyes drifted up the building as they approached it, looking for Bill’s only window on the front side. ‘Top floor, far end flat. Lights are on.’
Stratton looked up and saw a shadow pass the window. ‘Looks like he’s home,’ she said.
Stratton scanned the street, nearby cars, doorways, expecting the place to be watched if the grand prize was inside. There was no sign of anyone.
‘Keep an eye open for caretakers,’ he said. Aggy wondered why but she wasn’t about to ask him any more questions.
They continued to the next junction and turned the corner. Stratton looked ahead for a place to duck into, found somewhere and crossed the road. He led her up a path that divided a row of terraced houses and they stopped midway in the darkness.
‘I need you to go up to his flat,’ he said as he peeled the camouflage jacket off her shoulders. ‘You have to get him out of the apartment. I need at least fifteen minutes inside. Okay?’
She looked distracted as she took off the jacket and handed it to him.
Stratton wondered where she’d gone. ‘Aggy?’
‘I’m thinking,’ she said.
‘What about?’
‘How to get him out of his apartment.’
‘Do it while you’re walking there,’ he said, folding the jacket up neatly.
She frowned. He was such a bastard if people didn’t do what he said right when he said it. She wondered why on earth she had looked forward to being with him. If her romantic side had not sidetracked her she might have remembered what a demanding sod he was to work with. On the other hand, a RIRA arms shipment and a Brit mole uncovered constituted a fairly big deal as operations went. If her senses were anything to go by there was even more to it than Stratton was letting on. Calm as he was, there was something about the way he had acted when she told him Lawton had met Chief Munro’s wife, and the way he had talked on the phone to whomever. He also looked more tired than she’d ever seen him, and it was not a tiredness from lack of sleep. Something deeper.
‘Get going,’ he said. She was about to step off when he took her arm lightly and looked into her eyes. ‘Aggy. Be careful . . . Be as natural as you can. Okay?’
There was an intense sincerity in his words. She was touched, but at the same time it unnerved her. He would not have warned her like that if it weren’t dangerous. She nodded.
‘I shouldn’t tell you this,’ he added, ‘because I don’t want it to distract you, but I have to. Things have changed for Lawton.Yesterday he was a mole, just a spy.Today he’s something far more sinister. Whatever he was like before, he isn’t the same person. He can’t be. I’m saying he could be dangerous . . . Be careful.’
She nodded again and walked away, out of the alley and back along the street towards the apartment block.
Stratton watched her go. He could see her slender prettiness even in the near darkness and his heart ached a little, fearful for her.
Hank strapped the SMG under the yellow coat and took a few seconds to practise grabbing it and bringing it up on aim. Neither of the Irishmen had a pistol, or even a spare magazine for the SMG. The young man sat limply on the floor, propped against the pole, his head hooded and hands and feet tied up as Hank’s had been. The other man was stuffed in a corner hidden under a tarpaulin and some ropes. He was still breathing faintly when Hank covered him, but if the guy ever did come out of it he would probably have brain damage. The image of himself beating the men kept flitting into Hank’s head, the brutality of it. He had never done anything remotely like that before in his life although he had imagined pounding a man to death on more than one occasion, such as the time Kathryn came home upset because a bunch of hooligans had harassed her outside a mall while she was loading her shopping into the car. Helen and Janet had been with her and Kathryn thought the thugs were going to rob her, or worse. For hours after Hank’s mind fed on the images of him finding the guys and beating them to a pulp. This day on the boat he had lived out what could have been just another of his daydreams: a persecuted individual, outnumbered, unarmed, his life threatened. But he had beaten one guy to death and the other as good as. Hank wondered if perhaps the daydreams had actually been a preparation for this day. He found a chocolate bar in a pocket of the coat, unwrapped it and bit into it greedily.
He readied his weapon and opened the door carefully as he munched. The corridor was clear of life in both directions. One end was a metal watertight door that looked like an entrance to the engine room.The other end of the corridor appeared more promising: a flight of stairs went up into light.
Hank remained in the room and closed the door again to take a moment to think it through once more as he stuffed the rest of the chocolate into his mouth. He was growing confident and having second thoughts about his options. It might just be the adrenalin, but he was feeling a lot better physically than he had been earlier. His plans of action were becoming grander. Freedom was obviously the primary aim, but he wondered if there was more to be gained from this escape attempt. There didn’t appear to be many people on board. Judging by the size of the boat he figured there was no more than a dozen crewmembers. Hell, a super tanker, ten times the size, had just over two dozen men. And since the boat was alongside it was more than likely some had gone ashore. No one had been along the corridor for ages. It was an opportunity he should at least explore. It might just be possible to take over the boat by himself. He could always go back to the original plan at any time and leap overboard.
That made up his mind. The first thing he needed to do was a recce. He would take a look around and assess the ship’s manpower and location. Based on what he found he’d decide whether or not to have a go at securing the boat or to slip over the side.
He checked the weapon once again, made sure the safety-catch was off, firmed his grip and pulled it out so that the strap was taut. He opened the door, checked up and down, and stepped out into the corridor, pulling the weapon in close to his body and keeping it central so he could swiftly turn and engage targets front or rear. He reminded himself, on engaging the enemy, to keep his bursts to three shot maximum if possible. Distract, destroy was the principal - first round in the chest to distract, then in the head to destroy.
He moved his feet easily along the corridor careful not to cross them over as he was taught and maintain his balance, like a boxer, ready for anything. He came to the bottom of the stairs and looked up to the first landing, where a corridor crossed port and starboard and then continued up to another deck. The corridor was brightly lit, electric lights, not natural, and there was still no sign of life. Hank could feel a cool breeze coming down the steps, a strong indication the deck led to the outside. It was fresh with a chill to it and felt good.
Hank placed a foot on the first rung. He was committed. The feeling that whatever was about to happen would change the course of his life for ever suddenly washed over him. He took another step, aimed the barrel at the doorway above, and moved carefully up.
Bill Lawton zipped up his holdall, which looked as if very little more could have been squeezed into it, lifted it off the bed, and placed it near the front door. He selected a jacket from several hanging on coat hooks, his favourite
