“Does it say where in the harbour he berths it?” Steve asked, his voice brimming with urgency.
“Afraid not,” Dean said. “Do you want me to try ringing the number for the Harbour master to see if they can help?”
“Please mate, and tell them it’s extremely urgent. I don’t think Meade’s planning to smuggle Winston out in his boat, and this Eclipse is looking like a good alternative.”
As soon as he’d finished the call, Steve rang Tyler with the news. “If I’m right, and Meade’s gonna use The Eclipse to take them across the channel, it could be moored anywhere in the port,” he said gloomily.
“What are the most likely locations?” Tyler demanded, sounding agitated.
Bull’s voice took on a note of panic. “Well, there’s Strand Quay in the town itself, and there are numerous private moorings around the harbour, including some along Rock Channel. I think we need to starburst the team and start checking out as many places as we can.”
“I wish you’d flagged this up earlier,” Tyler said, angrily. “If our information is right, they’re going to sail before midnight.”
“I’m sorry, boss,” Bull said, sounding crestfallen, but Tyler had already gone.
◆◆◆
After a frantic call to Dillon, in which he’d instructed him to radio the team and task them with scouring the town and its environs for signs of Meade and his Land Rover, Tyler instructed Susie to pull over at her earliest convenience so that he could have a better look at the map. Almost immediately, she found a public car park opposite the Rye Heritage Centre and pulled in.
It wasn’t easy going, but he started to divide the land around the harbour into grids, noting the location of all the car parks and any roads abutting water. Feeling a bit more organised, he began ringing each of the five cars and allocating them with defined search areas to concentrate on. Hopefully, this approach would add some order to the process and avoid some places being swamped and others being overlooked altogether.
He made it clear that he didn’t just want them driving around aimlessly. They were to deploy on foot, as many of the boats were berthed below the line of sight from the road, and the only way to make sure that nothing was missed was to take a stroll along the edge of the river.
They sat in the car park for several minutes, twiddling their thumbs and waiting for updates. The only vehicle to pass them was the Astra containing Dillon and Charlie White, which crawled past as it checked out the cars parked along the main A259 to make sure that the elusive Land Rover wasn’t hidden in amongst them.
Tyler fidgeted in his seat restlessly. All he could do now was wait, but patience wasn’t one of his greatest strengths. He anxiously checked his watch. It was eight minutes before midnight. “I’ve got a really bad feeling about this,” he told Susie.
Pulling out his phone, Jack called Dillon. “Dill, can you put it over the radio that they’re to check out any boat with its lights on or engine running.”
“I’ve already given that instruction,” Dillon told him.
Jack cleared his throat noisily. “There must be something more we can do?”
“Jack, we’ve got Meade’s boat staked out. We’ve got five units searching the harbour area for The Eclipse, and we’re checking out all the car parks and roads for the Land Rover. The TIU has confirmed Garston and Meade’s phones are in the vicinity of Rye Harbour. What more can we do? Even Tim Newman’s team is unofficially having a drive around for us to see if they can spot anything.”
Dillon was right, but it didn’t make him feel any better.
Hanging up, he started drumming his fingers impatiently against his knee.
Susie glanced sideways at him and raised an eyebrow. “That’s awfully annoying,” she said.
His fingers stopped mid drum. “Sorry,” he said, sighing dejectedly.
Susie gave him a sympathetic smile. “Why don’t we go for a little drive around,” she suggested. “It’s got to be better than just sitting here.”
“Good idea,” Jack said, pulling his seatbelt on.
They turned left out of the car park and drove the short distance up to the roundabout with Wish Street. There was a nice-looking café on their right, and a fish and chip shop directly ahead. Closed now, Jack imagined they both did a thriving business during the summer when the town was full of tourists. Taking the first left, Susie drove them across the River Brede and then continued along the A259.
Rye was like a ghost town, but that was hardly surprising; it was approaching midnight on a cold winter’s night and a storm was brewing. Anyone with a modicum of sense was at home, safely tucked up in a nice warm bed.
Susie followed the road around to the left, running parallel with the river until they came to Harbour Road. She turned left into this. “I think we’ve got the SFOs following us,” she said after glancing in her rear view mirror.
Jack checked over his shoulder. Sure enough, the dark blue van containing the SFO team was sitting on their tail. Susie pressed the button to make her hazard lights blink a couple of times and the driver gave them an almost imperceptible flash of his headlights in acknowledgement.
They passed a large stretch of grassland in which boats of all shapes and sizes had been mounted on dry dock stands. A sign read, ‘Brede River Moorings’.
Jack noticed a small car parking area next to the boats.
“Slow down,” he ordered. “Let’s make sure Meade’s Land Rover isn’t concealed amongst this lot.”
Susie
