Hunting the Wrecking Crew: An Eric Stone Novel

by Nick Albert

  “Someone could find him,” Linda hissed urgently.

  “It’s ok…Just wait a little longer.”

  He checked his watch and held up a finger.

  “Any second now.”

  Almost on cue, the door to screen two swung open, and a crowd of people poured out. They were all talking excitedly about the film they had just seen, and eager to be first out of the car park. Earlier, Stone had checked the finish times of the other movies. He had carefully timed their exit to coincide with the crowd. He gently took Linda’s arm.

  “Let’s go. Stay with the crowd, go out the left-hand door, turn left, and go into the first shop on the left. It’s a computer store.”

  “Got it.”

  They went through the door on the left side of the crowd. Keeping their heads low, they peeled left as soon as they were in the open. Once they were inside the computer store, Stone glanced back. Over the heads of the milling crowd, he could see two men standing in the centre of the car park. They were both craning their necks in an effort to spot somebody. Stone stepped away from the window and joined Linda at the back of the store.

  For a few minutes, they drifted around aimlessly, looking at the computers and printers. They made sure that the display counters always provided some cover from the windows. The approaching sound of a siren suggested that someone had found the unconscious man in the cinema and called for an ambulance.

  Linda tried to lighten the air of tension.

  “Perhaps we could buy Megan a present.”

  Stone was distracted. Staring out of the window, he completely missed the humour.

  “This stuff is all above my pay grade, but I suspect that she’d be insulted.”

  Linda tried again.

  “We could get her a mouse to go with the cats.”

  Stone smiled as he finally got the joke. However, when he noticed the anxiety written in Linda’s face, his grin dissolved.

  “That reminds me, we’d better let Megan know what’s happened. You have the phone. Can you text her? Send something cryptic — to be safe.”

  Linda typed for a moment.

  “How about this, ‘Had to change our electricity supplier at short notice.’ Will she understand that we’ve dropped off the grid?”

  “That’ll do just fine.”

  She sent the message and seconds later, the phone bleeped a reply.

  “She says, ‘Understood. I have found a light bulb, call me when you can.’ I guess she has some new information for us.”

  Linda peered over the counter towards the windows. Their partial view of the car park showed no sinister activity — other than an arriving ambulance.

  “We need to get out of here.”

  Stone nodded.

  “I think I have an idea.”

  He looked towards the rear of the store.

  “It’s almost lunch time. How much do you suppose they pay the staff here?”

  “Probably not as much as they would like.”

  Stone sidled over to a pimply youth who was refilling the display of printer cartridges. Linda followed curiously. The lad noticed the approaching couple and cracked a weary smile.

  “Can I help you, sir?” he asked unenthusiastically.

  “I hope so.”

  Stone squinted at his name badge.

  “Tell me Philip, do you drive to work?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “In a car,” Stone persisted, “did you drive to work today?”

  The lad nodded.

  “Where do you park?”

  Philip frowned and pointed a thumb over his shoulder.

  “Staff parking’s at the back.”

  He looked around.

  “I have work to do. What were you looking for?”

  “A lift.”

  “Huh? I don’t understand.”

  “We would like to give you money for a lift in your car.”

  “I don’t do lifts, I got work to do.”

  “Three hundred quid,” Stone said flatly.

  “What?”

  Philip stood, suddenly interested.

  “Three hundred quid, for a short lift in your car.”

  Stone delved into his pocket and pulled out a wad of fifties.

  “Cash money — no catches.”

  Linda jiggled her car keys in front of his face.

  “And…you get to drive a brand new Toyota GT86 sports, for a couple of weeks.”

  Philip glanced around suspiciously.

  “What’s going on? Is this some kind a joke?”

  Linda smiled gently.

  “No joke Philip, we…that is I, need your help. You see…”

  She wrapped her arms tightly around Stone.

  “We’re in love and we’re going to get married, but my ex just won’t accept that it’s over. He’s a thug, and he and his friends are following us — they’re in the car park now, but we lost them. We really need a lift.”

  Linda saw that Philip was starting to weaken.

  “If you can help us, we would be so grateful.”

  Stone waved the cash again.

  “Five hundred quid grateful and you get the Toyota to drive.”

  “Carefully,” Linda added.

  “Five hundred quid?”

  Philip was staring at the money and licking his lips.

  She jiggled the keys again.

  “The GT86 is the hottest car on the streets right now — the girls are going to love it!”

  Philip looked at the cash and the car keys. His eyes slowly came up towards Linda. In return, she beamed her brightest smile — it was impossible to resist.

  “What would I have to do?”

  Now Stone smiled.

  “Take us out the back door and drive us to Sawbridgeworth — it’s that simple. You can drop us at the taxi rank at the station. Then come straight back to work. The cash is yours right now. Here…”

  Stone handed over the money. It vanished into Philip’s pocket.

  “From tomorrow you get to use the Toyota — they may still be watching it today. Do we have a deal?”

  Philip nodded.

  “Deal.”

  Philip’s car was parked in a secure staff area near the delivery bays, so they had no problem getting in without being seen. Nevertheless, Linda and Eric lay flat on the rear seats, until they were well clear of the area. From the railway station in Sawbridgeworth, they took a taxi ride to a reputable used car dealer that Linda knew of. They had planned to buy a used car, but insuring it would have put them on a database somewhere. At the same time, they couldn’t run the risk of the car being identified as uninsured, by the police number plate scanning computers. After some negotiating, and for just two thousand pounds, they were able to ‘borrow’ a suitably reliable, insured, and relatively inconspicuous Audi A4.

  Their next stop was at a large discount retailer where they spent another £500 of Anton Stephens’ drug money. They bought clothes, shoes, toiletries, and a set of three suitcases. After a quick pub meal, they drove south for fifty miles to Epping, where they found a small and inconspicuous family run motel. They checked in as Mr and Mrs Jones. Stone paid cash in advance for three nights in a double room, with an en-suite bathroom, and full English breakfast. The elderly receptionist accepted their money with a knowing smile, born of years of experience and discretion.

  The room was simplistic, but clean and functional. There was a television, a mini bar and a kettle, which they could use — and a telephone and Wi-Fi connection, which they couldn’t. Once they were settled, Linda sent Megan another cryptic text message, reporting that they had landed safely. Stone carefully went through all of their purchases to check for any security tags, or RF chips. Finally, they stripped off their grubby second-hand suits and took a long shower together. Afterwards, they lay in each other’s arms and slept.

  The sun was up when they were woken by the mobile phone ringing. It was Ed Carter, and he had news.

  ***

  The Fixer was annoyed. Time was running
out, he could see that from the report Becka had just placed on his desk. He could see that it was time to run, but he couldn’t go without his money — he wouldn’t go. His broker was supposedly doing his best to liquidate the assets. He had told The Fixer, ‘These things take time — what with money laundering regulations and bank holidays to contend with’, but The Fixer was convinced that he was up to something. The man was a greedy bastard of the lowest kind. He was probably trying to play hard and dirty, in the hope of gaining some extra commission. The only compensation was that his broker was now on the growing list of people that were about to die.

  Becka coughed politely, causing The Fixer to look up in surprise. He had forgotten that she was waiting for his permission to speak. He waved a beckoning hand for her to continue.

  “Ok Boss, here’s what we know so far.”

  She began to summarise from her report.

  “Eric Stone, the karate instructor from Colchester, was definitely friends with Charles Rathbone. It’s reasonable to surmise that Rathbone may have acquired some knowledge of the Wrecking Crew, and shared that information with Stone. We now know that Stone has worked with a former police officer called Ed Carter. Carter runs a small but efficient private detective agency. We’ve been following both Stone and Carter for a couple of days. Carter has been going about his regular business. This week he’s been investigating a football club manager who may have been embezzling funds, and photographing the unfaithful wife of a TV celebrity — all boring stuff.

  Stone’s been out and about, with his pretty little girlfriend Linda Smart. They’ve been up to no good, sticking their noses where they don’t belong. Most noticeably, last night they broke into our Second Chances office.”

  The Fixer sat bolt upright in shock. With an eye on self-preservation, Becka ignored his reaction.

  “The watchers saw them snooping around and decided that it was time to act.”

  Becka braced herself for what was coming.

  “They called the Manager back and sent him in with a gun.”

  The Fixer’s face turned white with anger. He spoke very slowly, his voice almost a whisper.

  “They sent someone without my permission?”

  Becka sighed and shrugged.

  “Somehow Stone got the better of the Manager — broke his arm and took the gun away. Luckily the weapon was unused and untraceable.”

  The Fixer said nothing. Becka took a deep breath before continuing. She knew that The Fixer was not above killing the messenger — both figuratively and literally.

  “Regrettably that’s not all of the bad news. I’ve just heard that our team has lost contact with Stone and Smart. They may have gone to ground.”

  He slammed his hand on the desk, making Becka squeal involuntarily.

  “How the hell did that happen?”

  “They went to the cinema in Harlow, and they didn’t come out. They simply vanished. Linda Smart’s car is still in the car park, but they are both missing.”

  “Goddammit!”

  “One of our guys was in the cinema. He was found unconscious and badly concussed. He’s in the hospital at the moment; we haven’t had a chance to speak to him yet.”

  Becka pulled a face that she hoped would convey that she was equally disappointed, but in no way to blame.

  “We had a pick up scheduled for tomorrow. I’ve sent Peter White to do it, just in case someone is still watching Second Chances.”

  The Fixer nodded, suddenly calm again.

  “Good thinking, Becka. Anything else?”

  “Well, I have some good news,” she said, trying to emphasise that she was still performing acceptably.

  “Go on.”

  “I think I’ve located our internet ghost.”

  “Oh, well done!”

  She smiled proudly.

  “The day before yesterday, Stone and Smart went to an address in Harlow. At face value, they were visiting some morbidly obese woman called Catherine Dama. She keeps cats, and does some work for Carter — filing court papers, processing photographs and maintaining his website. Carter has a secretary but she’s strictly old school — just paper and filing cabinets.”

  The Fixer waved his hand in a gesture of impatience. Becka pressed on.

  “Anyway, to cut a long story short. I noticed something odd. There’s a lot of web traffic to and from the address they visited, but it’s all encrypted — I mean, really encrypted. Then I remembered that there used to be a fat girl who worked at GCHQ and she kept a lot of cats. I heard that she left to start her own internet security firm. Her name was Megan Smith, and she was very, very good.”

  “And you think that this ‘Catherine Dama’ is her?”

  Becka smiled triumphantly.

  “Catherine is sometimes shortened to ‘Cat’ and ‘Dama’ is Polish for ‘Lady’. So yes — I think that Cat Lady is really Megan Smith.”

  “And if it is…”

  “Then we’re in a shitload of trouble,” she said with cold finality.

  The Fixer pushed his chair back, indicating that the meeting was over.

  “Thank you, Becka — good work again. It’s a pity some others aren’t as diligent as you are. Perhaps I need to light a fire under someone’s butt.”

  He treated Becka to a rare smile and then he checked his watch.

  “Talking of which, Gordon should be here by now. Can you ask him to come in, please?”

  ***

  They met Ed in a superstore car park in the centre of Aylesbury. Stone realised that they were less than a mile from Second Chances’ office. Ed immediately hugged them both and said how pleased he was that they were safe. Although the weather was unseasonably mild, they sat in Ed’s car so they could talk in comparative privacy. He could barely contain his excitement when he told them that Megan had managed to recover some files from one of the USB sticks Linda took from Second Chances.

  “Although the recovery was only partially successful, it’s clear that the file was instructions for the Wrecking Crew to stop a planning application in Reading.”

  Although he was obviously tired, his eyes were bright with excitement.

  “Megan discovered that the car parking tickets were all for this superstore, and that the unpaid parking fines were for cars illegally parked in Tring road. That’s just around the corner.”

  “I know it must mean something Ed, but what’s the significance?” Linda asked.

  “I think there has to be a ‘dead drop’ in the area. Somewhere accessible where prospective Wrecking Crew clients can covertly leave instructions and payments.”

  Stone nodded.

  “Of course! That’s how they maintain a physical separation between clients, the people from Second Chances, and the Wrecking Crew.”

  Ed turned to look at Linda.

  “You found two very positive leads when you searched the office — USB sticks and parking tickets. I think that they arrange for the client to leave instructions on a USB stick and hide it somewhere near here. Then later, someone from the Wrecking Crew comes by and picks it up.”

  Stone sighed and rubbed his chin.

  “That’s great news Ed, but how does it help us now? We could stake out the place, but we have no idea who we’re looking for.”

  “You’re right, I agree. It could be anyone. It could be that woman with the pushchair, or that man in the baseball cap or…anyone. We just need to get lucky.”

  “So what’s the plan?” Linda asked.

  Ed went into full police mode as he started his stakeout instructions.

  “Well, we know from the time stamp on the parking tickets, the exchanges all happened between 1 and 3pm. It’s 12.45 now, so with luck someone could be here at any time in the next two hours. It’s unlikely that we’ll spot the client, but look out for someone who looks anxious, or out of place. They may be furtively looking around, or nervously clutching a package — particularly if they’re making the payoff. We have a much better chance of spotting the person that’s picking up the
USB stick. That’s the guy, or girl, we want.”

  “So how do we spot them?” Stone asked.

  “If you could have asked Charles, he would have said you need to look out for the absence of the normal or the presence of the abnormal. In Afghanistan, the insurgence would mark a hidden IED with a red rag tied to a lamppost, or a bright yellow milk plastic carton. It is the sort of thing that you could walk past every day and not notice, but once you have your eye in, it can be obvious.

  “Today you need to ask yourself why someone would have an umbrella up when it isn’t raining, or wear sunglasses at twilight. Perhaps you’ll notice someone carrying a rolled up newspaper, or still wearing a coat on such a warm day. If you can open your mind to see — I mean really see — what you are looking at, then spotting our guy might be a possibility.”

  “Ok, I get the idea,” Linda said, warming to the task, “so if we see something, then what do we do?”

  “Good question. Here’s the plan. I’ll stay here in the car park, and I want you guys to park in Tring road. If anyone sees something, then we call each other on the mobile, and begin to follow the suspect. If you see a car, get the registration number, if they are on foot get a good description. Better yet, try to take photographs using the phone. After that, we’ll have to improvise. Ok — any questions?”

  He waited a moment, there were none.

  “Right, let’s get to it.”

  Linda and Stone parked near to a wine store in Tring road. They were about two-hundred yards from the superstore. Although the parking was strictly for residents only, there were several empty spaces, so they chose one in a central location. Technically, they were parked illegally, but they decided that they could always move if a traffic warden came along. From their position, they had a good view along the road. Looking forward, they had a clear line of sight to the cemetery gates on the left side, and opposite, they could see the bus stop. To watch the road behind, they took turns using the mirrors.

  Nothing happened for the first ninety minutes. They waited. Stone was good at waiting. As a part of his martial arts training, he had learned meditation. He could sit very still for hours, relaxing every muscle in his body so that his heartbeat slowed and his breathing became deep and unhurried, as he sought his calm centre. At the same time, his concentration would sharpen to the point that he was aware of every sound and movement. He tried to put himself into the same state now, but he soon found that there were too many distractions.