by Karla Forbes
“They took evasive action in the underpass,” Anson said, bitterly. “Another bike was waiting, but we second-guessed them and managed to follow both. One veered off towards Margate and the other went to the harbour.” Anson turned, his face stricken as the full extent of his failure sunk in. “He pushed the whole bike over the harbour wall into the sea.”
Fryer digested this information in silence.
“I anticipated everything, but not that,” Anson said, his voice flat. “I had the coastguards on standby in case they going to use a boat, but I guess they must have had a diver in the water.”
“Can’t the coastguards pick him up?” Fryer suggested.
Anson shook his head. “He could be anywhere by now. How do you find someone who can stay underwater and swim in any direction?” He didn’t wait for the answer. “You can’t. The truth is that I lost them. It was my responsibility, and I screwed up.”
Anson’s mobile trilled into life. He pulled it angrily from his pocket. “What?”
“I thought you might want to know,” the voice at the other end said, “a little girl has been found in a caravan at the Golden Galleon Caravan Park, less than three miles from the airport. She’s alive, but heavily sedated.”
“Taylor’s kid?”
“We believe so.”
“Then it’s too late,” Anson said morosely.
“Not necessarily. She was found by a Sergeant Burgen from Sussex Police. He’s with me now. You’re going to be very interested in what he’s got to say.”
“I’ll be there in five minutes,” Anson said, hopes rising. Perhaps his prayers had just been answered.
***
Fox saw the bike hit the surface with a force that sent shock waves through the water before tumbling gently down towards the seabed with the grace of an autumn leaf. He pounced on it before it had reached the bottom and wrenched the whole pannier off the bike. He was tempted to look inside and feast his eyes on the sight of £60,000,000 worth of diamonds, but the urge to get out of there was stronger. Hubner had impressed upon him the need for speed. There would be helicopters, coastguards and half an army of pissed-off security officials trying to track him down. The quicker he distanced himself, the better. He strapped the box to his underwater propelled vehicle and set off at a steady rate of knots towards the bay.
Several times he looked up and saw a helicopter circling overhead. He grinned to himself and kept going. In every way that mattered he was invisible. The tracker on the diamonds had been blocked, and until he emerged from the water it was impossible to spot him with infrared or any other camera. As he moved forward at a steady pace he continually monitored both his depth and duration in the water. On the outward journey he had allowed himself the luxury of staying near the surface, but now, with the full force of the law in pursuit, he dived to ten metres. The deeper he swum, the slower he would be forced to make his ascent. Every extra minute that he needed to surface could bring their pursuers nearer, but it was a chance they would all have to take. If he was left writhing in agony with an excess of nitrogen in his blood, he didn’t rate his chances very highly of having Hubner and Wilson sticking around to help.
Slowly, the UPV pulled him effortlessly through the water until his wristwatch and GPS told him that he had arrived back at the bay. He killed the engine and waited, looking up through the murkiness and scanning the sky for signs of the helicopter. There was nothing. He listened, knowing that any sound would be conducted ten times more efficiently through water than air. If the coastguards were in the area, he would hear them. The grumble of distant engines vibrated through the water, but it was too far away to bother him.
He checked the computer strapped to his wrist and began his ascent. Minutes later he was hauling himself out of the water, and Hubner and Wilson were running along the shoreline to meet him.
“Did you get them?” Hubner’s voice was heavy with tension.
Fox ripped the mask off his face. “Yeah, quick, help me get this lot out of sight.”
Immediately hands were reaching out to take the gas bottles and UPV, and all three men ran for the cover of the nearest bushes. With a grunt of exertion Fox dropped the box on the ground at their feet and for a moment they all stood and stared as though touching it would make it disappear.
Hubner was the first to recover his senses.
“Quick, Dave, take a look. First impressions?”
Wilson prised open the catches on the box and wiped his hands nervously down the sides of his trousers. He hesitated, swallowed hard and threw back the lid. Inside were a number of small pouches, packed tightly together and showing the contours of the stones within. Eagerly, Wilson selected one at random, opened the pouch and took out a stone. He held it up to the light and examined it with narrowed eyes.
“Well?” Hubner asked after an agonising ten seconds had passed, “are they legit?”
“They’re not glass” Wilson pronounced with certainty, “but until I’ve got time to examine them properly, I can’t tell what we’ve got.”
“But they are diamonds?” Hubner prompted.
Wilson returned the stone to the pouch. “This one is, but I can’t vouch for the rest of them.”
Hubner looked up, scanning the skies warily. “We haven’t got time. We need to get away from here.” He sprang to his feet. “Come on.”
***
From the cover of the scrubland Nick had seen everything. When he had first run onto the beach and seen the two men hanging around the shoreline, he had pulled back in alarm and crouched in the shadows watching. Where was Fox? They had all set off together, but now he was nowhere to be seen. Nick looked cautiously around him and snatched a glance over his shoulder, but no one was creeping up behind him.
He turned his attention once more to Hubner and Wilson, and was struck by their body language. Like him, they were crouching down, but their attention was fixed on something out to sea. Both men were shielding their eyes as they peered towards the distant shoreline of Ramsgate. Nick followed their gaze, searching the empty waters for a boat, but the only vessels afloat were a long way off. He sat back on his haunches, wondering. He saw a helicopter circling over Ramsgate harbour before heading out to sea and begin criss-crossing the bay in a search pattern.
Suddenly, Wilson grabbed Hubner’s arm and pointed. Nick followed the direction and saw a disturbance in the sea, then seconds later Fox emerged from the waves, a caricature of Venus with water pouring from him. Hubner and Wilson were up on their feet running towards him, then all three men grabbed the scuba equipment and began hauling it back to the cover of the bushes. Nick’s attention was taken by a box. It seemed heavy. Fox was a powerfully-built man, but he was struggling to run with it in his arms. He dropped it on the ground, and moments later Wilson was delving in its depths. He brought out a small object, and as he held it up to his eye it was illuminated by a thin beam of sunlight that brought it to life in a kaleidoscopic display of sparkling brilliance.
Nick had seen enough. He instinctively reached into his pocket for his mobile phone before remembering that he had left it with Annelies. He cursed quietly under his breath, wondering what to do. He might not have the proof he needed of Tim’s murder, but he knew that he had finally got his break; what he was witnessing would be of very real interest to the police. Somehow he had to stop them getting away.
He pulled himself to his feet and hurried back the way he had come towards the direction of the car park. It was nearly a mile back along the track. He couldn’t believe how unfit he had become. Before he had gone a hundred yards his breath was coming in sharp painful gasps and his lungs were burning with the effort. He pushed himself on, desperate to get there before them. There was only one way he could think of to stop them in their tracks and bring the emergency services rushing to the scene. He knew exactly what he was going to do.
***
Ed stopped pacing at the sound of police sirens and watched the approach of a car and two outriders, tyres squealing. The moment
they came to a standstill, the driver’s door flew open and an unremarkable-looking man of medium height and unassuming appearance stepped lightly out and strode towards him, arm outstretched.
“Sergeant Burgen?” he said, shaking Ed’s hand. “Mark Anson. I haven’t got time for explanations, but I must find Nicholas Sullivan. Do you know where he is right now?”
“Nick?” Ed repeated, confused. “You mean you’re not here about the little girl?”
“The two are linked,” Anson explained succinctly. “Where is he?”
Ed looked nervously over to where the two grim-faced outriders were waiting by Anson’s car. It occurred to Ed that Anson hadn’t given his rank, but whoever he was, he obviously carried clout.
“Are you MI6?” he asked incredulously. What the hell had Nick got himself into?
“MI5,” Anson corrected him. “Answer the question please.”
“I don’t know,” Ed said, raising his hands. “When we saw the nipper, I hung on here and he shot off in my car to follow the men.”
“We’ll need the make and registration number of both vehicles,” Anson told him.
“Sorry?” Ed stuttered.
“Your car and the vehicle Sullivan is pursuing.”
Ed stammered out the details and Anson turned and relayed them to one of the watching police officers. “Have the information circulated immediately,” he ordered. As the policeman began talking into his radio, Anson turned back to Ed.
“How long ago did this happen?”
“An hour…longer perhaps.”
“An hour?” Anson repeated, clearly unimpressed. “Why the delay?”
“I phoned the police the moment I saw that they had a kid with them,” Ed explained. “It took a while for someone to show up. I was told there was something big going on and no one available. When someone did finally put in an appearance, it took some time to gain access to the caravan and phone for the ambulance. It was only when I was giving my statement and mentioned Nick’s name that anyone showed any real interest.”
“There’s been no word from Sullivan?”
“No. I don’t think he’s got his phone with him.”
“And you have no idea which direction he took?”
“None whatsoever,” Ed admitted. He was growing more confused by the minute. None of this was making sense.
Anson digested the information. “Tell me,” he said at length, “what state was Sullivan in?”
“Sorry?”
“Did he look healthy to you?”
Ed gave up trying to understand where this line of questioning was leading.
“Actually, he looked like shit,” he stated bluntly.
“More than just the effects of being under stress and on the run?” Anson asked.
“I’m not a doctor, but yes, I’d say so… Is this relevant?”
“Very much so. Your friend might be suffering from radiation sickness, in which case he’s just about the most important man in the country right now.” Anson turned back to his car. “Come with me, Sergeant. If Sullivan took your car, you’ll need a lift. You can tell me everything you know on the way.”
Chapter Seventeen
Nick ran as though a pride of starving lions were slavering at his heels. By the time he reached the car park, his legs had turned to rubber and a red hot knife seemed to be twisting into his guts. He sagged against a tree, dragging air into his burning lungs as he took a moment to look around him. The place was deserted. Apart from Ed’s car and the white van, there were only two other cars standing around, both empty.
Nick waited a moment for his breathing to steady, then, clutching his side, stumbled across the car park. He hunkered down on his knees and peered up at the underside of the van. He reckoned he had less than five minutes. He cast an anxious look over his shoulder, then scrabbled in his pocket for his Swiss army knife and crawled under the van, feet first, on his back.
He began to stab at the fuel pipe with the blade. Working under pressure of time and with a clearance of just a few inches above his head, it wasn’t easy. His first few attempts struck the pipe clumsily and slewed off without doing any damage. He thought he heard voices drifting towards him through the bushes and his hand froze as he listened. It came again, and this time he recognised it as children calling to each other in the distance. Their voices were fading as they moved away, but he was running out of time. Hubner and the others could be arriving back any moment.
He took the knife in both hands and stabbed it upward with all the force he could muster. This time it pierced the metal, and as he withdrew the blade a small drop of petrol began to ooze out of the punctured pipe. He jabbed again and again, perforating the metal in half a dozen places, and only when he was satisfied that the slow leak had become a steady trickle did he pull himself clear of the van.
He sat back on his haunches watching as the petrol snaked away from the van. The thin trickle grew into a satisfying stream that followed the contours of the ground for several feet before pooling into a hollow further down. He looked up in alarm as he heard more voices. This time there was no mistake. They were less than forty metres away and would be coming into sight any second. He searched around in a pocket and pulled out the matchbox that he had found in Fox’s kitchen. There were just two matches nestling alongside the small packet of metallic powder and neither of them looked dry; a legacy of his hours spent sitting in the pouring rain.
He struck the first match but it disintegrated like mushy cardboard against the side of the box. He could hear their footsteps trampling through the undergrowth as they approached. He impatiently discarded the match and with shaking fingers, tried again. The second match spluttered into fledgling life. He turned it quickly in his hand trying to entice a flame from the dismal ember.
Just as it flared, the three men came into view. They were talking amongst themselves and didn’t appear to notice him. He had run out of time.
With one last look around to check that no one else was in the car park, he tossed the match into the pool of petrol. As the flames shot into the air and raced towards the van, he nose-dived into the bushes and began dragging himself away on his belly, his hands clamped over his ears.
Four seconds later, the flame reached the fuel tank and the white van exploded in a ball of flame.
***
The three men were still fifteen metres away when it happened. It was Hubner who looked up and saw the river of flame racing towards the van. His mouth stretched open in a warning and he hurled himself backwards, scuttling crab-like away from the imminent inferno.
It seemed to happen in slow motion. The other two men, alerted by his actions, glanced up almost casually and immediately took in the scene. They both threw their arms across their faces and staggered backwards, landing heavily on the ground.
The first wave to hit them was a searing heat that sucked the moisture from their skin and singed the hair on their heads. The second wave was the ear-shattering noise of the blast that smashed into their ribcages with a dull thud and assaulted their eardrums, rendering them temporarily deaf. The third wave brought broken glass and disintegrating metal in its wake. It rained down on the car park for a full thirty seconds with a terrifying cacophony of destruction.
Then came nothing: only the steady sound of the fire as it hungrily consumed the remains of the twisted metal wreck which moments before had been their van.
The three men lay where they had thrown themselves, staring with shock and disbelief as the ground around them was showered with debris and ash.
***
Nick cautiously pulled himself up on his elbows and peered at them through the bushes. All three were stunned but still alive. He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed, but then he remembered Tim and was disappointed. He looked beyond them and saw their equipment scattered on the ground where it had been abandoned. Recalling what he had seen after Fox had emerged from the water, he was struck by an insane idea: the box contained diamonds. This was what it had a
ll been about.
He needed to get that box. He looked again to where the three men were stirring, pulling themselves clumsily to their hands and knees.
He leapt to his feet before fear could get the better of him and force a change of heart. Staying within the cover of the bushes, he loped around the perimeter of the car park and came out behind them. As he watched, first Hubner and then the others began to stumble unsteadily towards the burning van. While their attention was elsewhere, he snatched the chance and darted in behind them, grabbed the box with both hands and began dragging it away. He was shocked at how heavy it was; it seemed to be made of lead. He glanced anxiously to where the three men were milling around the wreckage, their equipment temporarily forgotten. He still hadn’t been seen. He dragged the box out of sight, then crouched down and lifted the lid. Inside was another, smaller, plastic box. He caught hold of it with both hands, carefully lifted it out and took a few seconds deciding what to do. He knew he had to get back to Ed’s car, but that would bring him in view of the three men.
He came to a decision. Someone else must have heard the explosion. If they did, the emergency services could be arriving within ten or fifteen minutes. All he had to do was stay out of sight until they showed up.
He began running, keeping to the shelter of bushes wherever possible, but always in one direction, away from the car park and back towards the shore. It was harder this time. The plastic box seemed to grow heavier by the minute. His cough returned. At first it was nothing more than a minor inconvenience, but soon it began to slow him up as he struggled to drag air into his lungs with rasping, laboured breaths. Several times he stumbled and nearly fell, but every yard he ran took him further away from the car park and danger. Without warning his guts went into a spasm and he fell to his knees, clutching his sides. The sweat of exertion trickled cold down his back and he began to shiver. He waited for several seconds for his breathing to steady, then took a deep lungful of air, grabbed the box in both hands and began to haul himself to his feet.
He had never before experienced the cold barrel of a gun pressed against the back of his neck, but he recognised what it was. He froze.