Assassins

by Ray Timms

  The Chief of Police wasn’t taking any chances. Six armed officers escorted the King across the road and saw him safely through the staff entrance of the Scottish Parliament Building.

  Checking her watch for the fourth time, Mary noted that Brewson was now thirty-five minutes late. Cruid was fidgeting on his seat.

  Dewar nudged Cruid when she saw the King walk in. She was grinning as he approached the Presiding Officer’s dais.

  Cruid’s face was creased with lines when he studied the King’s demeanour. He wasn’t at all sure Gavin bore the expression of someone dejected and beaten. He was also worried that Mary might not keep her promise to have Iris released. Then why wouldn’t she?

  ‘Here we go,’ Mary said gleefully rubbing her hands and nodding her head at the King who now faced the rising tiers of MSP desks that were arranged in a semi-circle before him. Speaking out the side of her mouth Mary said, ‘at last, we are going to be shot of him.’

  Cruid saw Gavin say something to the Presiding officer who smiled. A feeling of foreboding overtook him. He sensed trouble.

  ‘I shall make this brief, ‘Gavin said. His voice sounding resolute carried all the way up to those sitting on the edge of their seats in the Public Viewing Area.

  ‘I need to report that today my Mother was kidnapped. I was told in exchange for her safe return I was to abdicate. Fortunately, that plot failed. My Mother managed to escape from the room that she was being held in. I am sure that everyone in Scotland and abroad will join me in condemning those who did this.’ Gavin shot a penetrating look at Dewar who glared back at him.

  Gavin continued, ‘I say this to those responsible, the police will hunt to you down and you will face Scottish justice. This vile attempt to halt my plans to overhaul the Scottish industries and prevent me bringing in new laws that favour the poor over the greed of the rich will go ahead with renewed vigour. In ten days time I shall nationalise our banks, our oil and our transports systems and I shall outlaw many of the unjust activities of those who use their power and their influence to feather their own nest. Before I get back to that important work, I have this message for the enemies of change in Scotland and for the British Prime Minister: Do not try and stand in my way.’

  Gavin turned and thanked the Presiding Officer. Then with a wave he fell in step with two armed coppers and headed for the exit.

  Back in their apartment, Gavin had this to say to Fiona and Iris.

  ‘This kidnapping business is a clear enough warning that my presence in Scotland is making us many enemies. From now on, none of us are to go anywhere without police protection.’

  *

  The Brewson family were gathered in one of the three sitting rooms in their apartment watching the ten o’clock news when Iris suddenly leapt from her chair and pointed at the TV.

  ‘That’s him… that’s my kidnapper.’ Iris shouted out.

  Displaying a passport photo of the dead man, the newsreader spoke of a man that was found shot dead in an Edinburgh hotel room.

  ‘My word,’ Iris gasped. That’s him. That’s my kidnapper and he’s been shot dead! Good God!’

  *

  Mary couldn’t believe her luck. Leplume’s kidnapper being found shot dead, meant there was no chance of the botched kidnapping being traced back to her.

  Having failed in her attempt to get the King to abdicate immediately after he had left the Parliament building Dewar went up to her office and phoned Leplume.

  ‘Good evening Mary,’ the boss of the Hitman agency said, cagily. ‘I guess you are calling to complain about the Italian that I sent to do the kidnapping. So tragic him getting killed that way. I have had Mario’s family calling me up from New York. They are most upset and vowing revenge on who did this…’

  ‘Never mind that,’ Mary snapped. ‘The game has changed. I now need him dead.’

  ‘You want the King dead?’

  ‘Yes. And I want no more dodgy, cheap Italians. You got that? I want the best hitman you can find. Who can you get me?’

  ‘If you want the best it’s going to cost you Mary.’

  Dewar was prepared for that. She plans to cream whatever it costs off the Scottish National Health budget, which was already overspent by billions. What’s it matter if the hospitals get a few million quid less for patient care?

  ‘Who you got in mind?’

  ‘The best in the world is Sven Johannson. The Swedish Meatball they call him. He is ranked Number 1 in the League of Honorary Hitman. But he doesn’t come cheap.’

  ‘Yeah, well I don’t do cheap. Get him. And this time I want to meet him. I don’t trust you Leplume.’

  It was the morning after the kidnapping when Gavin, his face like thunder, burst in on Scotland’s First Minister.

  When the door flew open Cruid clutched at his heart and Mary slammed down the lid of her laptop. Her face paled when she saw the King looking as mad as hell. She then found her voice.

  ‘Your majesty,’ Mary said, putting on a sad face. ‘I can’t begin to tell you how shocked I was to hear what happened to your poor Mother. I do hope that she is recovered and not too distraught. My God, I find it hard to believe that someone would want to do such a wicked thing. I hear the police, thank God, found the man in a hotel room shot dead. That at least has put an end to it.’

  Brewson was shaking his head.

  ‘I know what you must be thinking Gavin,’ Mary said, ‘and whilst Cruid and I did suggest that solely in your own interests it was best that you abdicated, my God, in no way would we ever contemplate such a vile act.’ Mary was quick to add. ‘I must say I was very moved by your speech yesterday. You are indeed a very brave man, incautious too I might add, but I do assure you Scotland’s elected Government, will support you in this bold course of action… tell me when do you plan to implement these new laws… I heard ten days. I have to say that sounds a little rushed. Why don’t you delay it for say, a few months, perhaps six months? Give yourself a little leeway.’

  ‘Nice speech Dewar,’ Gavin sneered. ‘I may not have any proof of your involvement in my Mother’s kidnapping but I know it was you who hired the Italian. I also suspect that it was it you who then had him killed after he botched the job.’ Even for her, the look of dismay on Dewar’s face seemed genuine. ‘I promise you this Dewar; I will see to it that you and Cruid both pay for what you did to my Mother. Do you know that Kidnapping carries a maximum life sentence?’ When Gavin looked round at Cruid he saw his Adam’s Apple bob. ‘I am no quitter,’ Gavin said flatly. ‘I am the King of Scotland and as such I intend to carry out my plans to reform Scotland and you two had better keep out of my way.’

  After Brewson had left, when Cruid turned to face Mary Dewar his eyes were brimming.

  ‘I can’t handle this Mary. We are both going to end up in prison.’

  ‘Relax Cruid,’ Mary said. ‘Stop panicking. I have it all in hand. I am switching to plan B.’

  ‘Do we have a plan B?’ Cruid said. The First Minister was smiling. ‘Mary, I sincerely hope that this plan B of yours doesn’t involve this Leplume and his squad of inept assassins. If so, I want no part of it.’

  ‘You are a part of it you old fool, ‘Mary snapped. ‘If I go down over this, I promise you Cruid you are going down with me. And at your age you wont get to leave prison alive. Just to ease your mind I can tell that I have arranged for us to meet up with the best hitman in the world. We are going to end this farce.’

  ‘And that is supposed to ease my mind?’ Cruid said, his face ashen.

  Chapter Twenty-five.

  Edinburgh.

  In the basement of Holyrood Palace, Gavin’s legal team were forging ahead with his controversial Scottish reform plans. Gavin now had a team of twenty people working on his new laws that will shake up not just Scotland but the UK too. They now had just six days to get the work finished.

  Gavin and his family now had round the clock armed police guards. These days the Brewson’s were rarely seen outside Palace.

  *
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  London was being kept fully briefed on King Robert’s activities. Sir Roger was now being attacked by the media, the opposition parties and even by his own party who were accusing him of ineptitude. The rich and powerful owners of the companies with huge business interests up in Scotland had been watching their share prices fall as the day approached when they would have their businesses taken over with minimal compensation. These industrialists were now threatening there would be no more money paid into the Tory party until the Prime Minister ended this chaos.

  Alone in his office the PM picked up his phone.

  ‘Beaumont, I want you to come to my private study right away. We need to talk.’

  ‘Yes Prime Minister.’ The P.M’s Special Adviser and the author of ScottiLeak said, weakly. Terry hung up the phone and then slumped back in his chair, He wished he had never dreamt up the stupid email plot.

  *

  Faring no better in the popularity stakes, Mary Dewar lambasted Cruid.

  ‘This is entirely your fault Cruid.’ the First Minister roared in the face of her Minister. ‘You were supposed to find me a king that I could manipulate.’

  Cruid wasn’t having this. How come all of a sudden it’s his fault?

  ‘You instructed me to locate a man with a direct DNA link to one of our ancestral kings,’ Cruid snapped. ‘And that is exactly what I did. How was I to know the man would turn out to be a megalomaniac?’

  ‘We have just days now before he enacts these laws’ Dewar warned. ‘The public and even my own bloody MSP’s adore him. Even the press lap up every word he says. I have even heard it said he is the Second Coming, can you believe that?’

  Cruid could well believe that.

  ‘Can we please not go down the regicide route Mary,’ Cruid pleaded. ‘Think about what happened to the Regicides who had signed the death warrant for Charles the First’s execution. Every one of then was eventually hunted down and then hung drawn and quartered in public!’

  ‘Stop being a wimp,’ Mary snapped. ‘Gavin Brewson is not the resurrection of Jesus Christ nor is he Charles the First. He is an Essex upstart. And the quicker we have him done away with the better.’’

  Cruid didn’t want to hear that. He was shaking his head. ‘Mary, is there no other way?’

  ‘No is the short answer,’ Mary said abruptly. ‘So you toddle off. Leave me to sort it out. God, I have to do every bloody thing.’

  Chapter Twenty-six

  London

  Terry Beaumont was in Sir Roger Bottomley’s study wishing he were somewhere else, such as at home supervising his new kitchen installation. Also present was the Head of MI5, Lord Soper. They were discussing the Scottish Problem, or to be more precise, the Scottish King problem.

  Sir Roger was blistering mad. All morning he had been getting calls from Tory party donors threatening all manner of dire consequences if the Scottish King was allowed to go ahead with his nationalisation plans. The Chancellor of the Exchequer among other financial luminaries, including, Mike Chambly, the Governor of the Bank Of England were warning the PM that the UK financial markets were on the verge of a recession the likes of which hadn’t been seen since the thirties. Foreign investment in the UK was now at an all-time low and several car manufacturers based in the North of England were now threatening to move their car production plants across to France.

  ‘Why the hell hasn’t this King been dealt with Soper? What’s the delay? Your agent was supposed to see to it that he was no longer a problem. I’d have thought the exorbitant fee we are paying him he’d have had it sorted by now?’

  ‘I spoke to his handler in Edinburgh only this morning PM, ‘ Soper said trying to remain patient. ‘Apparently our agent was delayed by a little local difficulty that needed ironing out.’

  ‘I take it this local difficulty was the kidnapping of the Kings Mother?’ Beaumont remarked. ‘I sincerely hope that none of our departments were involved.’

  ‘We had nothing to do with it,’ Soper said, raising his hands. ‘My sources in Holyrood tell me that someone high up in the Scottish Government arranged it. Apparently, the kidnapping was meant to twist the King’s arm, force him into abdicating.’

  ‘That’s a bloody half-arsed way of going about things,’ Sir Roger blustered pouring himself out a single malt whiskey and not offering any to the others. ‘It’s a pity the Scots hadn’t the guts to go for a permanent solution.’

  ‘Which is precisely what agent Gent will accomplish.’ Soper said, authoritatively. ‘I should add though, the kidnapping hasn’t helped our man at all. There is now a siege mentality in Holyrood. The King has tripled his armed police guard and neither he nor his family are going out in public.’

  ‘Are you saying that our man can’t get at the King?’ Sir Roger said, gnawing on his cigar butt.

  ‘Sir Roger, let’s not panic,’ Lord Soper said, soothingly. ‘My man assures me that the King will be dead before the deadline.’

  ‘Which is when?’ Terry asked.

  ‘Six days,’ Soper said. ‘Next Friday King Robert is due to make his scheduled announcement, only it wont happen because he will be deceased.

  ‘Perhaps, ‘Terry suggested, ‘it would be sensible to send another hitman up to Edinburgh, to act as a backup?’

  The Head of MI5 shot Terry a look. ‘There really is no need to…’

  ‘Good point Beaumont.’ Bottomley said interrupting the boss of MI5. ‘Arrange that Soper.’

  ‘Certainly, Sir Roger,’ Lord Soper said, trying to think who might be free. Most of them were already on assignments. ‘I will see who is available. And you are happy to provide the money Sir Roger?’

  ‘Yes, yes, yes, dammit,’ Sir Roger said irritably. ‘The money can come out of the Education budget. Just get it done.’

  Soper caught Beaumont’s eye and nodded at the door.

  Terry got to his feet ahead of Soper. ‘Prime Minister, please excuse us, only we need to crack on with this.’

  ‘Go. Both of you.’ Bottomley said waving his glass at them. ‘And send Mizz Sweetwater in will you?’

  ‘I’ll see if she is busy.’ Terry said, provocatively.’

  ‘I don’t employ her to be busy.’ The PM said, his face purpling up.

  Outside the PM’s office, taking Beaumont aside, the Head of MI5 angrily said, ‘why the hell did you say that?’

  ‘Say What?’

  ‘Say that we should send another hitman up to Edinburgh.’

  Pulling his arm free of Soper’s grip, Terry replied testily.

  ‘We now have just six days to get this done Soper. If we don’t assassinate the King before the deadline all our careers will go down the Swanee. The PM will have to go and so will we.’ Such an eventuality for Beaumont would necessarily entail the curtailment of the work on their half-demolished kitchen that right now was little more than a pile of kitchen units yet to be installed and a host of unpacked appliances. There was no plumbing and only one working wall socket. He shuddered at the thought of having to tell Amanda that having lost his job, there was no way he could pay the builders to get the work finished. He knew how his wife would react. The news would resurrect her IBS and her eczema, to say nothing of her athlete’s foot and her recurring cystitis.

  ‘Do you have someone in mind Soper?’ Terry said, wanting to make it clear there was to be no further discussion on the matter.

  Soper had to think about that. All his operatives were currently out on assignments.

  ‘I can find someone.’ Lord Soper said.

  ‘Just as long as this person is more on the ball than your man in Edinburgh, who seems to be having a nice little holiday up there on our money.’

  Stung by that remark. The Head of MI5 snapped. ‘I can assure you Terry; the situation in Edinburgh is far from being a holiday for anyone. My agent has had to cope with some extraordinary difficulties and he will not be happy if he were to find out that we had hired a back-up hitman. These hitmen are a funny lot. They like to have total control of the Theatre
of Operation. And two assassins on the same job is a complication that neither of them will be happy about.’

  ‘Then don’t tell either of them.’ Terry replied, as if it were that simple.

  Soper pulled a face, nodded and then walked off.

  *

  In his office in Thames House, the Headquarters of MI5, Lord Soper was watching the backup hitman sipping her tea. They had agreed on her fee. Soper wasn’t going to tell her that he had already assigned the job to another Hitman.

  Miranda Belladonna, stick-thin, her hands calloused from twenty years working as a trapeze artist had retired from that dangerous profession two years ago. Miranda’s abilities to scale walls, creep into secured buildings, squeeze through the tightest of spaces to steal money, gems, and information and on the odd occasion, like right now, to bump someone off, are in high demand by her exclusive clients.

  ‘You are quiet clear on your mission?’ The boss of MI5 said studying the thin woman on the other side of his desk.

  ‘Yes,’ Belladonna replied, curtly. ‘Tonight I will fly into Edinburgh airport and I need to assassinate the King of Scotland within five days.’

  ‘That’s correct,’ Soper said. And once you have completed your assignment you will get paid the fifty K.’

  ‘And you say the King has now confined himself to Holyrood Palace.’

  ‘Two days ago, someone tried to kidnap the King’s Mother. Since then the family have gone into lock-down.

  ‘In that case I shall need to break into his apartment at night, and then kill him in his sleep.’ Miranda then had a thought. ‘Does he sleep alone?’

  Lord Soper didn’t know, so he lied.

  ‘I believe the King and the Queen sleep in separate rooms.’

  Miranda shrugged. It didn’t matter to her either way. ‘I expect to have it done inside forty-eight hours. The first twenty-four hours I will be scoping the Palace.’