by Ray Scott
There was a phone call from Wainwright a few days later. He arrived later at the house accompanied by another man named Colin Rolands, who looked to be in his early thirties. Wainwright produced a script which Wallace was to use when telephoning Ben Wakefield.
‘Stick to this, we’ve been working on it. It should arouse Kalim’s interest, assuming he’s still listening. My own belief is that he has to, his position could be very precarious if you pass on your information to anyone else, and from this, and the recent press snippets, he won’t know whether you have or not. He may guess of course, but all we can do is our best…OK?’
‘OK,’ Wallace replied. ‘But how will Ben know what to say?’
‘Leave that to us, Colin will call on him, and they’ll go through his script before you contact him.’
Wallace turned to Kelsey.
‘Do you think this will work?’
‘If it doesn’t, then you’ll be looking over your shoulder for a long time,’ he said, and Wallace broke out into a cold sweat.
‘Hallo Ben!’
‘Hallo, who’s this . . is that you Harry?’
‘Yes, listen. I’ve got to see you.’
‘Jesus Christ! You could land me in a heap of trouble, if you haven’t already. You’re a wanted man; this could destroy me and my business.’
‘If you’ ll just listen, I can explain.’
‘Explain! It might have helped if you’ d explained last time. Bloody hell! Give yourself up, Harry, wherever you are, and get it over with.’
‘I can’t do that, I’ve got something that could prove my innocence, but I need a computer to look at it’
‘A computer! Look here, Harry, I don’t want to get involved with this again’
‘I’m not asking you to, all I want is to have access to a computer. This will put me in the clear.’
‘How the hell did you get into this mess?’
‘If you’ll see me Ben, I can tell you everything. I will give myself up but I must decipher these flash drives first.’
‘Flash drives?’
‘I’ve got some computer memory sticks that could clear me, I didn’t murder that man in London, Ben. I swear it.’
It was two days later early in the morning. Wallace was sitting in a police interview room at a point near the Shrewley Tunnel, in a small police station at a place called Hockley Heath. He had the script in front of him and Ben presumably was sitting in front of his in company with Colin Rolands. For company Wallace had McKay, Kelsey and Wainwright. The plan was that Ben would wax angrily at first, and then slowly come around and agree to come over to the canal boat to pick Wallace up, the apparent object being to go back to his house and insert the drives into his home computer. They talked as per the script for about another three minutes or so and Ben became less angry.
Ben had to be the one at the other end, if they had been bugging his phone for some months now they would be sure to recognise his voice, and probably Wallace’s as well. Wallace had heard from Liz that Ben had been doing some amateur theatricals in recent years. It was probably difficult to avoid becoming involved in play groups when living in Stratford, the home of the Bard. Certainly it stood him in good stead now, his performance was masterly.
Eventually they reached the nub of the conversation.
‘How the hell do I know you’re telling me the truth?’
‘You don’t, until I can boot up these memory sticks. I have to see them first. I want to know what they are before I commit myself to the police.’
Ben apparently hummed and hahhed, slowly came round and grudgingly agreed to come to where Wallace was and pick him up. Wallace gave him a detailed description of where he was, or more correctly, where the canal boat was. Ben deliberately took his time noting down the directions, presumably at Rolands’ prompting, to allow Kalim, if he was listening, to do the same.
‘All right! I’m trusting you Harry. Don’t let me down.’
‘I won’t, what’s your car registration, so I know it’s you.’
This had been McKay’s idea, and a good one. Ben gave the registration details, which weren’t his but a car that was one of M.I.5’s stable, which was already parked in the vicinity out of sight. It had tinted windows and was said to be bullet proof, Wallace hoped they were right.
‘All right, I’ ll see you about 5 o’clock in the afternoon, can’t be before that, I have calls I’ve got to make. Is that all right?’
They agreed time and place, which was at a point where a road passed close to the canal, and then broke the connection.
Kelsey nodded approvingly.
‘Well done, both of you. I’ll pass on my congratulations to Mr Wakefield when I see him,’ he said. ‘I don’t know about Kalim, but it certainly convinced me.’
Wainwright rose to his feet.
‘Well, let’s get up there,’ he said. ‘We’ll have a last look around and check that everything is ready. The sooner you’re on that boat the better. Chances are they’ll go for it immediately, Wakefield’s arrival time, or alleged arrival time, may not be relevant to them, they’ll just want you and the computer gear.’
Wallace wasn’t so sure of that, but followed him out of the room.
Chapter 30
They were at the boat within about 15 minutes. Wallace walked gingerly up to it and boarded it, feeling his shoulder blades prickling as though he expected a bullet any minute. Though the time of arrival of Kalim and his men was unpredictable, assuming they came at all, it would take longer than 15 minutes for them to hit the road, wherever they were, after listening in to that telephone call.
‘You’ll stay below,’ said Wainwright. ‘Make the occasional turn on deck, the main object is to be seen. I’m saying they won’t shoot because they’ll want the discs first. Two of our operatives, Mark Enderby and Jim Galvin will stay on the boat with you and will be out of sight, they are both armed. You’re not alone.’
Wallace nodded. He still wasn’t altogether happy about the whole thing, though on reflection his life had probably been in worse danger over the last fortnight. Both Galvin and Enderby looked like ex-commandos, regulation hair cuts, both well muscled and walking like cats. They both packed shoulder holsters with artillery, which did go some way to alleviating his fears. Neither of them said much, to Wallace they looked as if they were merely waiting for the fight to start.
They parked themselves in the small cabin, there wasn’t too much room with three of them below, but they seemed to be used to roughing it. It was agreed that Wallace should expose himself on the deck at irregular intervals; this was McKay’s phraseology which caused considerable amusement amongst the assembled gathering at the time and did relieve some of the tension. The government car would then make its appearance on some of the roads nearby at the proposed time and suggested meeting place between Wallace and Ben Wakefield. Its registration number should be already known to Kalim and his men so it should be expected. What would not be expected was that it was carrying a driver and three other men armed to the teeth, the guardian from the safe house, Chris Anthony, being one of them.
Wainwright wasn’t certain whether Kalim would have the idea of including Ben Wakefield in his disposal plans, after the, hopefully, overheard telephone conversation they may deem that Ben also knew too much. This meant that if Kalim was going to make a move it may not be until after the car appeared on the scene, though they had to be on their guard all day. Trying to read Kalim’s mind was not an easy task.
Galvin and Enderby appeared to be resigned to a long wait. Galvin went to sleep while Enderby remained very much wide awake. Wallace took the occasional turn on the deck, walking around the narrow ledge at the side of the cabin area to the stern and then back to the bow. There was a small landing stage where the boat was moored, nothing very elaborate and it looked as if it was an unauthorised construction put together by anglers. It was constructed on the bank and did not protrude into the water.
There was a radio propped on the shelf above the sm
all stove, occasionally a transmission was made as the watchers outside called each other, once or twice the boat call sign was called and Enderby answered it. The exchanges were very brief, being mainly limited to the words ‘All clear!’
Apart from that Wallace heard and saw very little. An occasional motor vehicle passed along the road, they may or may not have been significant, if Wallace heard one approaching he made sure he was on the deck and in full view.
Other canal boats passed by, some of them were pleasure craft and there were one or two commercial barges. As the commercial barges went by the man at the tiller usually gave a solemn wave to which Wallace responded. He eyed them carefully but they seemed to be genuine, they all had their company name emblazoned on the side like Fred Hackett’s craft.
Wallace heard a buzzing sound which came to an abrupt halt, and far astern, about 150 metres or so he could see a small motorised rubber dinghy. A man in a slouch hat was sitting in it with a fishing rod and as Wallace watched, the fisherman began casting his rod out while the dinghy hovered in the middle of the canal. Being a canal, there was no current to speak of and the wind was at a minimum.
The other craft were small private craft; this was not unusual as the canals had many of those traversing their waters. Wallace knew now that these craft were one of the saviours of the canal system and over the years had created a demand that resulted in many abandoned canals being re-opened for tourist traffic. These passing craft seemed innocent enough.
A four wheel drive vehicle drew up on the other side of the canal and three men tumbled out of it, which caused a muffled exchange from down below as Enderby was advised of their presence by other watchers. They unloaded some equipment and began trimming some of the undergrowth. One of them looked at Wallace, nodded and gave a wave of the hand and he replied in kind. They had parked their small truck about 30 yards down the canal and started work in that area.
At around midday Enderby gave Galvin a shake and they swopped places, Wallace made a pot of tea that went down well as they had a brief conversation before Enderby lay back and fell asleep.
The work on the bank was still progressing. The men loaded some of their handiwork onto the back of the four wheel drive, took a break with thermos flasks and sandwiches and then continued working. They were tipped off that more vehicles were approaching so Wallace took another turn on the deck and walked around the outer limits of the deck from bow to stern. Vehicles passed by, they seemed innocuous enough and Wallace wasn’t aware of any one of them slowing for a better look.
When he returned to the cabin, to relieve boredom and also to relieve his bladder in the small head in the bow, he could hear Galvin talking to someone on the radio which sounded like Wainwright. The latter was sounding impatient, and was clearly wondering whether the whole exercise was a waste of time. Galvin was non-committal, he wasn’t involved in the decision making process anyway, but it was clearly useful for Wainwright to bounce ideas off somebody if nothing else.
Wallace took another turn on the deck, the four wheel drive was loaded up with more undergrowth and tree branches and one of the men clambered aboard and drove off, leaving the other two still working. They had worked their way up to and slightly beyond the craft; they were about 20-30 feet ahead of it on the opposite bank, and still trimming straggling bushes.
The radio began again, there must be more activity elsewhere, then Wallace heard the four wheel drive returning and it parked alongside the bush clearers. This time it was accompanied by a small covered truck. The third man alighted from the four wheel drive and began assisting the other two. They gathered the fruits of their labour and heaped it behind the second vehicle, ready to load it aboard. The driver of the second truck assisted them.
Wallace could hear a conversation below, so ambled slowly below to hear what was going on. Galvin was chatting to someone, it appeared to be routine and he ended the transmission. He looked up as Wallace squeezed in, and gave a brief nod and a shrug.
‘Nothing much happening,’ he said. ‘That’s how it goes with this job. All quiet and then…bingo!’
He grinned broadly and Wallace smiled back, somewhat uneasily.
‘Are we calling it off for the day?’ Wallace asked.
‘No, we’re bringing the car into the equation,’ said Galvin and turned to Enderby who had just stirred and opened his eyes. ‘Wakey wakey, Mark, they’re moving the car. It will be appearing on the road soon. Harry, you’ll have to keep an eye open for it. One of our lads will get out of it and approach this boat, the boss wasn’t sure whether they’d ever sighted your mate Wakefield, but our bloke is about the same size – built like the legendary brick shit-house.’
They all chuckled dutifully, and Wallace prepared to go back on deck again. He felt a thrill of adrenalin as both of his companions checked their weapons and then he shuddered at the thought that bullets could start flying. Not for the first time he soundly cursed Bramble and his cheerful offhand description of what he had wanted him to do in Jakarta. Then he thought of Elsie…dear avaricious Elsie who was still under the impression that a large legacy could be coming her way. As he clambered up the few steps to the deck he actually entertained a brief kind thought about Bramble – as he visualised Elsie’s face when the awful truth was brought home to her.
‘Up yours, bloody Elsie,’ Wallace muttered to myself, and found he was grinning broadly. There was the sound of a car engine and the government vehicle came slowly up the road and the driver alighted. Wallace had to admit that their choice of a Ben lookalike wasn’t bad, facially there was no resemblance, but the physique was about right. If he hadn’t known that Ben was still at Knowle with Colin Rolands he would certainly had needed a second or third look to ascertain that it really wasn’t Ben.
Wallace noticed that the fisherman was starting to pack up his rods; obviously he’d had enough for the day. He had opened a container in the stern of the craft and was hauling in his rods. His rods were hanging over the stern of the craft and he busied himself with his container in the stern, presumably readying it for his rods. Wallace was aware of a buzzing sound and the craft began to move. There was still the one man in it; he solemnly raised a hand in salute as he passed by. He was wearing sunglasses and a floppy hat with a wide brim.
‘Silly bugger!’ Wallace said to himself. ‘He’s losing his rods.’
The craft gained speed and Wallace lost sight of the rods as it moved front on and ambled towards the boat. Then it veered to the right, eased to a halt alongside the opposite bank near where the bush trimmers were working. As he did so it looked as if he’d realised his rods were not fully aboard and was attending to them.
Then suddenly things began to happen. The rear of the second vehicle burst open and three men emerged, they were dressed in fatigues. They raced down the bank, boarded the dinghy, which suddenly veered to its left, did a left about “U” turn and then headed straight for the barge. Wallace barely had time to register what was happening when it swished alongside and three men clambered aboard. The width of the canal was such that they crossed it in a matter of seconds.
‘What the hell?’ Wallace ejaculated. He was standing at the bow of the craft, and tried to run astern, as luck would have it he tripped in the panic and stumbled headlong, literally falling into the cockpit at the rear. He heard a brief exchange on the radio as he fell heavily onto the deck, then rough hands grabbed him and forced him back onto the deck as he tried to raise himself. He had time to see that the third assailant had jumped off the boat and had tackled the Ben Wakefield look alike to the ground.
‘Hallo again, Mr fucking Wallace, you have something that belongs to us,’ a voice said that Wallace recognised as Fino’s and it was no surprise that he gave Wallace’s arm an exploratory twist as he secured his wrists with handcuffs. Wallace looked up as he turned him over, the cuffs chafed Wallace’s wrists while the second man stood over him with a gun in his arms.
Fino’s face broke into a triumphant grin and he slapped Wallace a
cross the face with the back of his hand which caused him to see stars. Fino looked up at his companion.
‘This is the bastard,’ he said. ‘I have plans for him when we get him back, give me a hand.’
Chapter 31
In future days when Wallace thought back he considered that of all the events and happenings experienced by him over those two or three weeks, what evolved next must have been one of the more pleasurable. Fino’s companion he remembered vaguely, having seen him before possibly at the house at Albrighton and certainly during the hectic escape sequence. He thought he could have been one of the men peering over the bridge when he and McKay were on the goods train. He was standing stock still. His eyes were fixed at a point where the cabin door lay, his mouth was open and he seemed paralysed.
‘Come on!’ Fino snarled impatiently as he looked up at his companion. ‘Give me a hand with this bastard…!’
This was the point when Fino became aware that his colleague’s attention was distracted elsewhere, he turned his head so that he was looking in the same direction. So did Wallace.
Galvin and Enderby were standing together in the open doorway to the cabin, both were cradling their guns in their arms, one gun barrel was pointing at Fino, and the other at his companion.
‘What the fuck…!’ was all that Fino could manage as he slowly stood up. His face was a picture; the expression of pleasurable triumph was slowly replaced by surprise, then horror as the ramifications of the situation slowly percolated through.
‘Drop it!’ Galvin snapped to the man with the gun.
‘Who…who are you?’
‘Me? I’m the fella who’s giving you the orders,’ Galvin replied conversationally. ‘I’ll introduce myself formally when you’ve put the gun down…NOW!’