‘Listen to your friend,
‘No problem,’ said Brandon with a smile, ‘Sorry for bothering you, come on Murray, let’s go to the pub.’ He pulled the reluctant taxi driver and walked back down the path, closely followed by the gamekeeper. Five minutes later they were driving back down the road towards the town.
‘Do you believe that Pratt?’ snarled Murray, ‘Gamekeeper my arse, nothing more than a jumped up gardener as far as I am concerned.’
‘He was no gamekeeper,’ said Brandon looking out of the window.
‘Looked like one to me,’ said Murray, ‘Even had all the clobber.’
‘He did,’ said Brandon, ‘But I’ve never seen a gamekeeper wearing Ray-Bans, have you?’
Murray looked in the rear view mirror.
‘Yeah, I noticed that too,’ he said, ‘And he had a strange accent.’
‘Italian!’ said Brandon.
‘So who do you think he was?’ asked Murray, ‘Some sort of security guard?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Brandon, ‘But I intend to find out. Stop here.’
‘But we’re in the middle of nowhere,’ answered the driver
‘Pull over,’ said Brandon, ‘There’s something I want you to do for me.’ A few minutes later, they were both stood alongside the taxi. Brandon was scribbling an address in his notebook.
‘I want you to drive to this address,’ he said, as he wrote. ‘Pick up a bag for me and bring it back here as soon as possible. I have made the arrangements. All you have to do is pick it up. But I need you back here by dark. Do you think you can do it?’
Murray looked at the address.
‘I suppose so,’ he said, ‘But what about you? Forecast says there’s a bad snowstorm coming, you can’t stay out here all day, you’ll freeze your nuts off.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ said Brandon, ‘Just make sure you get back here as soon as you can.’
‘Okay,’ said Murray, ‘But then we are done. Agreed?’
‘Agreed,’ said Brandon, ‘Now go. My number is on the pad. Ring me when you’re on the way back.’
He watched the taxi disappear down the lane before climbing over a stile and making his way back up the hill, keeping close to the hedgerow to avoid being seen.
In the car, Murray glanced at the address on the pad. ‘Oxford,’ he read.
Brandon walked around the hill, keeping to hedgerows and dead ground wherever possible until he found a relatively sheltered area overlooking the track leading into the forest. For hours he watched the gate, catching occasional sightings of the two security guards located just within the forest edge. Throughout the afternoon a few vehicles drove passed into the forest, including two cars and a white transit van. The van in particular caught his eye, as, unlike the cars, it was quite old with an odd door on the passenger side, obviously the result of an amateur repair. He watched for a few more hours before making his way back down the hill and waiting in a small copse, huddling beneath his coat as the temperature dropped. After what seemed like an age, his phone vibrated and his head sprung from his chest where he had dropped off into a light sleep.
‘Murray?’ he asked.
‘Who the fuck is Murray?’ asked a voice.
‘Sorry, Mike, You caught me having a power nap. Any news?'
‘Well, sort of,’ said Mike, ‘We reviewed the CCTV on all the entrances and there is no sign of her entering the station.’
‘Shit!’ cursed Brandon.
‘Hold your horses,’ said Mike, ‘I also reviewed the cameras outside the station and it seems like two people matching your descriptions got out of a cab and entered a house halfway between the train station and the bus station.’
‘You think it was them?’
‘Sure it was,’ said Mike, ‘We managed to get someone inside, but it seems the place is hardly used.’
‘What happened?’ interrupted Brandon sitting up, ‘Was she there?’
‘No, one of the guys had a good look around and there’s no sign of her. The only thing we can think of is that they left the building via the car park.’
‘Car park?’
‘Yes, underneath the building there is a small car park that exits onto the road at the side of the building.’
‘Anything on camera?’
‘No, that’s the thing. The only vehicle to come out after the time she went in was a battered old van.’
Brandon looked up the hill towards where he had spent the last few hours, thinking about the vehicles he had seen a few hours earlier.
‘Describe it,’ he said suddenly.
‘What?’
‘Describe the van,’ said Brandon tersely, ‘Was there anything strange about it?’
‘No not really, it was a bit shit, really. Old, white, battered.’
‘
‘Oh and it had a black door on the passenger side,’ said Mike, confirming Brandon’s suspicions. By the time we realised the connection it had long gone, and I can’t access the London CCTV grid without a warrant. Sorry, Brandon, I have no idea where it went.’
That’s okay, Mike,’ said Brandon, ‘I know exactly where it went.’ His phone beeped once in his hand. ‘Mike, I have to go,’ he said, ‘I’ve got another call on the line. Talk later, cheers.’ He pressed the red button on the phone, quickly followed by the green one.
‘Murray,’ he said, ‘About fucking time.’
‘Calm down,’ he said, ‘I got stuck in traffic.’
‘Where are you?’
‘About ten minutes away,’ he said, ‘You okay?’
‘Don’t worry about me,’ said Brandon, ‘Just shift your arse and get back here.’ He hung up and made his way down the last few hundred yards to the lay-by. A few minutes later, the taxi pulled up and Murray got out.
‘Got it?’ asked Brandon.
‘In the boot,’ said Murray, ‘Nice lady, you’re mother.’
‘Yeah, diamond,’ said Brandon.
‘Got you something else, too!’
Brandon looked as Murray reached over to the passenger seat to retrieve a carrier bag.
‘Your mother sent me on a side errand on the way back,’ said Murray, ‘Figured you may be hungry. Fish and chips and a can of coke do you?’
‘Murray, you’re a fucking legend,’ said Brandon with a smile, taking the bag. He sat on a log and got stuck in to the greasy meal with enthusiasm. He had not realised how hungry he actually was. Murray leaned against his cab, eating his own bag of chips.
‘Thanks for this,’ he said, ‘Just what the doctor ordered.’
‘No problem,’ said Murray, ‘I’ll add it on your bill.’
Brandon smiled.
‘So what happens now?’ asked Murray.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Up there,’ said Murray, ‘At the convent. That’s where you’re going, isn’t it?’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘I’m not stupid,’ said Murray, ‘That bag in the boot, it’s special forces issue isn’t it?’
‘Is it?’
‘Look mister,’ said Murray, ‘Many years ago I did some time in the Territorial Army. Nothing special but
