Hunting the Wrecking Crew: An Eric Stone Novel

by Nick Albert

  He told her everything. He told her about the Wrecking Crew, and about the files Charles had sent. He told her about the death of Valerie Jenkins, about Carter, and even how Megan was running background checks on Linda. Then he gave a step-by-step account of what had happened the previous night.

  For an hour, Linda sat at the breakfast bar and listened attentively as Stone gave her every detail. Nodding occasionally, she said very little. She broke her silence twice to clarify something, and once more to swear loudly when Stone described finding young Jenny gift-wrapped in the boot of the Mercedes. When there was nothing left to say, he sat back and held up his hands defensively.

  “So there you go…that’s it, that’s all there is to know.”

  “Wow! It’s a lot to take in! I feel like I’ve just walked in off the street and into the middle of a bank robbery.”

  “I know what you mean, it’s all very surreal. Look…I would understand if you wanted to walk away…you probably should, you know,” Stone said seriously, but with trepidation.

  “Thanks for the offer Stone, but no deal. You’re stuck with me. I told you the other day that I wanted to help, and I still do.” Her fingers impatiently drummed the breakfast bar. “So what happens next?”

  Stone’s heart surged. He suddenly realised just what an extraordinary woman Linda Smart was, and how much he had already fallen in love with her. He slowly reached over and took her hand.

  “Today we spend together. This is our day. Tomorrow morning we’ll drive down to Megan’s place. Ed Carter wants to meet you.”

  ***

  Peter White clutched a large manila envelope to his chest, and stared fearfully at the door to The Fixer’s office. He felt like a schoolboy waiting to see the headmaster. His armpits were moist, his heart was racing, and he could feel stomach acid burning in his gullet. He shouldn’t be anxious. As far as he was aware, he had no need to be, he had always performed his work admirably. Yet, here he was staring at the door, afraid to knock, but too scared to turn and face the vile bodyguard again.

  Peter hated Bunny. He thought him to be ignorant, unwashed, and uncivilized. Peter also knew that Bunny regularly sexually assaulted Becka. He was aware that The Fixer knew this as well, and that he chose to do nothing about it. In fact, Peter suspected that The Fixer took some sick pleasure from allowing such obvious and outrageous assaults to take place, in the sure knowledge that nobody would dare to complain. Peter had speculated that it was a way for The Fixer to dominate his employees passively. In a similar way, he kept his name secret, making people call him ‘Boss’ or ‘The Fixer’, as if he were the head of the Secret Service or something.

  Peter enjoyed his work. In many ways, it was good to be in the Wrecking Crew. He was paid very well, and he relished the feeling of supremacy that his position brought. However, like the other employees, Peter didn’t know his real employer. His payslips came from a charity, but that was clearly just a ridiculous subterfuge. He suspected that the Wrecking Crew was actually a clandestine arm of the British security services. He liked that idea. He was a patriot at heart, and loved to think that he was a spy doing good things for his country. Admittedly, some of the things he had been asked to do were questionable, but he had always suppressed his concerns in the hope that his work was officially sanctioned from upon high.

  However, some time ago Peter had begun to realise that The Fixer was a dangerous and unstable man who was prone to sudden outbursts of anger, particularly in the face of bad news. He also recognised that his boss could be petty and vindictive, using his considerable power to further his own agenda. Over the last twenty months, Peter had noticed that some of their assignments had been directly linked to The Fixer’s personal interests. Usually this was when someone had crossed him, or posed a danger to the Wrecking Crew — like Charles Rathbone, or the man in the envelope, Eric Stone. Peter took a deep breath and knocked softly on the door.

  “Come!” the Fixer barked sharply.

  “I’ve got the initial results of the surveillance you ordered on Eric Stone,” Peter said, his voice trembling slightly with fear, “there is a report, and some photos.”

  “Ah, yes — let me see.”

  Peter handed over the envelope and, reading from his copy of the report, he began a commentary as his boss read along.

  “Eric Stone aged thirty-nine, martial arts instructor — owns a dojo in Colchester. Decent earnings, taxpayer, unmarried, and no criminal record — he seems like a decent, upstanding guy. Very respected and successful in his field, he has a staff of twelve. There’s some evidence to suggest that he gives additional training to some of the troops from the Army barracks in Colchester — probably to help sharpen their skills and fitness before deployment. Charles Rathbone was a member of the dojo, which seemed odd until I noticed that Stone runs several self-defence classes for the disabled, and kids with special needs. I guess that Rathbone went to him because of his disability.

  “We had people watching his work and his house. I had someone go and enquire about karate lessons. He asked to see Stone in person, but the guy he spoke to said that he hasn’t been at work for a while. By my calculation, he has probably been away since Rathbone died. For a while, it looked like he may have dropped off the grid completely, but yesterday he turned up at his house. When he arrived, he met with a girl and she stayed the night. There are photos of both of them.”

  The Fixer flicked through the sequence of photos of Stone arriving at the house, then the blonde girl arriving, and the picture of Stone and the girl kissing. As he reached the first photo that clearly showed both faces, he suddenly stopped flicking and sat very still. When finally he spoke, Peter was shocked by the sudden tension and anger in The Fixer’s voice. He wondered if he had made some dreadful error or omission.

  “Who’s the girl?” The Fixer held up the photograph.

  “Um…let me see…” Peter quickly searched to the correct page in his copy of the report. “Ah yes, here we are. The red sports car is registered to a Linda Smart. Aged thirty, she is a fitness and yoga instructor from Sawbridgeworth. She has a rented studio there with a flat nearby. Average earnings, regular tax returns and so on. There is no history of previous communication with Rathbone. She has no criminal record…just two parking tickets…stopped for speeding last year, but let off with a warning. Nothing else of any interest, really. She’s a pretty girl though.”

  Peter smiled as he closed the report, slightly embarrassed at the last comment. He hoped that The Fixer wasn’t about to explode in anger. In the end, his response was rather muted.

  “Um…fine…tell your people that they did well.”

  “Thanks boss, I’m sure they’ll be happy to hear that—” he stopped as The Fixer held up his hand.

  “And I want you to up the surveillance on Stone. I want maximum coverage, day and night. I want to know where he goes, who he talks to, what he does. I want the lot; phones, email, post, everything. Do you understand?”

  “Yes boss, no problem,” Peter said, trying to hide his relief, “I’ll put a team on it immediately. They should be in place by first thing tomorrow.”

  “And the girl — you’d better do the girl as well.”

  “Ok…yes. Err…one thing though…there will be quite a large expense…who do I bill this to?”

  The question was met with stony silence. The Fixer sat completely still, staring unblinkingly at the photo of Eric Stone and his girlfriend. His knuckles were white with tension. Peter White remained quiet. He knew better than to interrupt when his boss was thinking.

  The photograph he held showed the girl in profile, but Eric Stone was visible almost full-faced. The Fixer was shocked. He felt chilled to the bone. It was like seeing a ghost — in fact he was seeing a ghost. He had recognised the face almost instantly. He knew that people’s faces could change over time, particularly in this era of elective plastic surgery. It was some years since he had seen this particular face. He had only ever seen it once before. On that occasion, he had se
en the face from a great distance, in poor light and with the aid of binoculars. Nevertheless, he was positive. He recognised the face in the photograph. Something was wrong — something was very wrong.

  “This is internal Peter,” the Fixer’s voice was so quiet it was almost a whisper. “This Eric Stone is a big risk to our organisation. Bring me the invoices, I’ll sign for them.”

  ***

  While Eric cleared away the breakfast dishes, Linda got her bag from her car and unpacked her things. Then they went for a run together. They followed Eric’s usual route; enduring a couple of minutes of dodging traffic and pedestrians, before picking up the riverside path that quickly led them out of town. From there on it was a pleasant scenic loop of around five miles. At first Eric ran a little slower than usual. However, they soon upped the pace, when he realised that Linda was every bit as fit as he was. She was also just as competitive.

  As they neared the town again, on the path alongside the river, they slowed to walking pace. Linda pointed to a telephone box, where the path met the road, and challenged Stone to a race.

  “Last one there does a forfeit — ok?” she suggested.

  “Right, you’re on!” Stone stood behind Linda with his hands on her shoulders and gave the countdown. “Ready, set…Oooff!”

  At the last moment, Linda drove her elbow back into Eric’s solar plexus and sprinted off shouting, ‘Go!’ over her shoulder.

  Laughing and gasping for breath, Eric sprinted after her, but he soon slowed as he realised that he couldn’t win. Instead, he made the most of his defeat by checking out her delightful bottom as he jogged along in second place. After a half-hearted complaint about cheating, Stone conceded her victory and graciously accepted his forfeit — giving Linda a piggyback ride all the way back to the house.

  As they were getting dried after sharing a shower, Linda remembered that she was scheduled to give a yoga class that evening in Sawbridgeworth.

  “Can I come?” Stone asked, “I would like to watch,”

  “Na-ah, no spectators allowed. But you can join in,” Linda wiggled her eyebrows, “it’ll be a thrill for the girls.”

  “Ok — I’m game,” Stone laughed. “And afterwards we should stop at your place and get some more clothes. I think you should move in.”

  “Wow! So soon — we just met?” Linda said teasingly.

  “Well, at least until this thing with the Wrecking Crew is over,” Stone said defensively. “Until then I want to keep you close, and make sure that you’re ok.”

  “And afterwards…” she left the question hanging.

  “And afterwards,” he pulled her into his powerful arms, “afterwards, I want to keep you close and make sure you are ok.”

  “My hero!” She leaned forward and gently nibbled his chin, before kissing him fully on the lips.

  The next morning they were on the road by 7.30am. The meeting with Carter and Megan was arranged for nine, but they had forty miles of British rush-hour traffic to negotiate along the way. They had decided to take Linda’s car, and she was driving, which gave Eric the freedom to watch for any sign of a tail. Ever since that night at Eric’s house, they had been watching to see if they were being followed. They had seen nothing so far, but the strong feelings of being observed persisted, so they remained cautious and alert.

  Once they joined the motorway heading south towards Harlow, Linda moved to the outside lane and pushed her little sports car to almost one-hundred miles an hour. After five minutes, she suddenly halved her speed, and cut towards the inner lane. All the time Stone scanned behind and ahead, for any sign of traffic that was matching their unusual pace. He saw nothing to suggest that they were being followed, but all the same, he remained vigilant.

  As they neared the off-ramp for Harlow, Stone twisted in his seat once again. Linda gave him a sidelong glance.

  “I don’t think we’re being followed; at least not at the moment.”

  “I agree. Actually, I was just trying to get comfortable,” he admitted. “I’m a little stiff after doing your yoga class last night.”

  Linda laughed out loud.

  “We were doing the easy stuff. You’re obviously not as fit as you thought!”

  “No argument here,” Stone conceded, “I was very impressed. Although there were some similarities to what we do in martial arts, the breathing and stretching, it was the differences that were challenging. You certainly made a convert of me.”

  “Good! We should do some yoga every day. In exchange, perhaps you can teach me some karate and self-defence.”

  “You have a deal,” Stone said smiling. They formally bumped fists to seal the agreement.

  When they arrived at Megan’s, Stone directed Linda to drive around the block, so he could check for a tail one more time. Satisfied that they were not being followed, they parked across the street and walked up to her flat.

  Carter opened the door before they had even knocked. He wordlessly led the way along the narrow corridor and into the office, where Megan was waiting. As Stone did the introductions, there was an awkward moment when Megan turned in her chair, crossed her arms, and openly assessed the woman who had entered her domain. Like a cat waiting to be invited to join the pack, Linda stood patiently and politely in the centre of the room, with her hands hanging loosely by her sides. Stone turned to his friend for moral support, but Carter was carefully staring at some imaginary spot on the ceiling. After what seemed like an eternity, Megan smiled and leaned forward to shake hands with Linda. Eric gave an involuntary sigh of relief, which triggered a snort of laughter from Megan.

  “Nice catch, Stone.”

  “Thank you,” Eric said, slightly embarrassed, “I think so as well.”

  “I’m very pleased to meet with you, Linda,” Megan said with a genuine smile.

  “Likewise,” Linda responded.

  “I understand you’ve been rocking his world lately. Is he any good?” Megan said trying for her usual shock factor.

  “MEGAN!” the men shouted in perfect unison.

  Linda seemed unperturbed and whispered conspiratorially.

  “Actually, he’s awesome. I’m only with him for the sex.”

  “Go girl!” Megan gave a ‘high five’, which Linda accepted as energetically as was prudent in the confines of the small office.

  Carter gave a polite cough to bring the girls to heel. They shared a shrug and Linda changed the subject.

  “Eric has spoken highly of your computer skills.”

  “Thanks,” Megan nodded, “I checked you out by the way — just to make sure that you were genuine. It was all good.”

  “Thanks, Megan,” Carter quickly interrupted. “Welcome to the team, Linda.”

  “Thank you, Ed,” Linda said, “I’m very pleased to be here. After learning about what happened to Charles Rathbone, I wanted to help you guys to find this Wrecking Crew. I want to see this put right.”

  “So do I Linda, so do we all.”

  Linda stood alongside Stone and took his hand. They shared a small smile. Carter sat on the edge of the desk and folded his arms.

  “Now, if you two girls have finished circling each other, perhaps we can get on? Megan…do you want to bring us up to date?”

  Megan took a moment to find the correct page on her laptop and collect her thoughts. Then she began reading from her notes.

  “Ok…first things first. With Ed’s help, I was able to see the police forensic report about Charles’ computers. I’m convinced that all of the kiddie porn on his computer was planted.”

  “I never doubted that it wasn’t, but it’s good to know,” Stone said honestly. “Thanks, Megan.”

  “You’re welcome.” She turned towards Eric. “Although what they did, and the ease with which they did it, should concern us greatly.”

  “How so?” Linda asked.

  “Well…even though Charles’ computer wasn’t particularly well protected, and planting the evidence was quite an easy task by my standards, by all accounts the porn th
ey found was some of the worst that the police had ever seen. Contrary to popular belief, that kind of sick stuff is not readily available. It would probably have been easier to plant a nuclear bomb making manual, and some plutonium, than it was to do what they did. My point is this. These people have considerable resources, and the skills to use them. What’s more, I’m still no closer to finding them. Frankly it’s a little scary.”

  “How are they keeping such a low profile?” Linda asked.

  Before answering, Megan spun around in a full circle on her office chair. Then she pointed at Linda.

  “Good question! I think that they trade strictly in cash, as well as using good field-craft, and simple old-fashioned technology.” She waved a sheet of paper. “Ladies and gentlemen, introducing the sturdy A4 laptop!”

  Linda remained silent, not wanting to derail Megan’s flow.

  “The lack of traceable electronic footprints suggests that they work off the grid as much as possible. Imagine that it was your operation, how would you do it?”

  Stone leaned forward. “Well—,” he began, but Megan interrupted immediately.

  “Sorry, rhetorical question. First, you would advertise by word of mouth and communicate in some untraceable way. I suspect they’re using ‘burner’ phones, USB sticks, and Bluetooth file swaps.”

  Stone whistled and passed a flat hand over his head. “Way out of my league — I have no idea what any of that means.”

  “Ok…I’ll explain. Think of how Charles sent you his message. A micro data card stuck to a birthday card — pretty much untraceable. It would be much the same if you slipped a USB stick into someone’s pocket. Actually, if you think about it, Charles used the Wrecking Crew’s own covert methods to beat their surveillance. It was really very clever.

  “A ‘burner’ is just a phone like any other, but it isn’t registered to any address. The mobile phone that Ed gave you last week is a burner. If you need to, you can dump it at any time.

  “The Bluetooth file swap is a favourite of the terrorists. Imagine that I needed to give you some detailed instructions. First, I put them into a data file, perhaps, a Word document or a PDF file on my smart phone. Next, I get you to change your phone’s Bluetooth settings to make it visible to my device. Then all I have to do is to get within thirty metres or so, and I can dump the file directly onto your phone. It’s that simple.”