by Hayden, Mark
‘Good. That’s very good. Listen, I’ve taken three days’ leave, starting tomorrow, and I’m flying out of Kabul tonight. Trouble is, I can’t get a connection to Hong Kong until tomorrow morning. I’m due in at 1530 your time.’
‘No. You can’t do that. I just wanted someone to talk to. Someone who’s been in a few sticky situations themselves.’
‘What are you trying to say about me? No, it’s the least I can do for you.’
‘I’ll have to pay your air fare and expenses.’
‘I was hoping you’d say that because the flights are rather expensive. When I get there, I’m going to be your middleman and I’m going to cut you a deal.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you’re up shit creek, old girl.’
She heard the rasp of a Zippo lighter. Conrad hadn’t given up smoking, then. Maybe that’s why he was back in Afghanistan. They didn’t have a smoking ban there. Except for women, of course.
Clarke sucked in smoke and continued, ‘They were using you for something. I don’t know what, but they were. You can’t just walk away from a situation like that. I need to work out a solution that pleases everyone, but I haven’t decided what that might be. I’ll see how he reacts first of all. Have you got somewhere safe to hole up until I get in?’
Kate looked around the bar and checked her watch. If she could trust Conrad Clarke, she could trust Li Wei.
‘I’ll find somewhere.’
‘Pick me up from the airport tomorrow.’
She picked up her rucksack and took Wei’s note out of her pocket. He’d have a nice surprise when he got home tonight.
When Tom got back to the car, he had an enormous sensation of impending doom. He felt as if the door to the vehicle was the door to a cliff edge, and that getting inside would be like jumping off into the dark.
He opened the door and stood back.
‘Look, I’m not going any further unless I know there’s backup in place. I was at Bet with Burton and Four Ashes Farm when these people last tried to sort out a problem. I don’t want to be any closer to them than this without support. Preferably armed.’
‘I agree. But there’s got to be an exit for me. I have as much desire to be alone with your colleagues as you do to be alone with Adaire. Here.’
The man held out Tom’s phone, and he took it out of the gloved hand. The sleeve on the man’s coat had risen up when he extended his arm, and Tom caught the glimpse of a red tattoo in the streetlight. There was something familiar about it.
Before he could catch the fragment of memory, the man spoke. ‘Get in and call 999. Tell the control room to notify the surveillance team that Adaire will be at the Emerald Green warehouse on Preston New Road in fifteen minutes. You can tip them off when to go in.’
That sounded a bit risky to Tom. He would have preferred to ask for an Armed Response Vehicle to be on hand but that would stop his mission in its tracks. He wasn’t going to order any arrests until he was sure that officers were safe, that’s for certain. He dialled the Emergency number and asked for the police.
‘This is Detective Inspector Morton, Metropolitan Police Warrant number 5512358, on attachment with Midland Counties Police Service. You are surveilling Benedict Adaire, repeat Benedict Adaire. I have reason to believe that he has given your team the slip and will be at the Emerald Green warehouse on Preston New Road in fifteen minutes. Officers should maintain their distance and await notification of crime in progress.’
He disconnected the phone and switched it to silent. They would be calling him back, but they would also be checking his details. Depending on where the surveillance team had gone when they lost Adaire, they should be in position.
‘Do you know the way?’ he asked.
‘End of the street, turn left then right at the junction. Pull in to the old pub car park on the left. I’ll get out there and give you the final instruction.’
Tom started the engine and drove off. They left the gloomy back street, arriving on a slightly busier road as he followed the directions. He slowed down and saw a boarded-up, burnt-out shell set back from the road. Worried about his tyres, he drove carefully on to the front.
‘Let me out, there’s a good chap,’ said the passenger. Tom flicked the central locking switch and then realised: You don’t need to do that to get out of the car.
Before he could relock it, the other doors were opened, and two men slipped inside. He found himself sitting next to Adaire’s right hand man, the one who had killed Dermot Lynch and left his beanie hat in the van. He was also looking at the gun which had done the damage.
‘What’s this about?’ said the new man in the back. He had an older voice and his accent was Northern Irish: this must be Adaire himself.
Tom felt his spine go rigid when his other passenger, the one he had driven up from Earlsbury, replied in the same accent. ‘I think you boys have got some talking to do. I’ll leave you to it.’ The door opened, and the passenger got out, slamming it behind him.
The man’s accent triggered Tom’s memory of the tattoo: It was a Red Hand in the symbol of a Loyalist paramilitary gang.
And then he remembered that the man had put something in his boot. It’s a bomb.
From the back of the car came Adaire’s voice. ‘Who the fuck are you?’
Tattoo man had to get clear of the car before he triggered the bomb.
I’m going to die in five seconds.
‘I’ll drive,’ he said, and put the car in gear.
Four seconds.
He slipped the seatbelt out of its holder and accelerated towards a concrete bollard at the end of the car park.
Three seconds.
The man next to him raised the gun towards him, and Tom slipped the car out of gear with one hand and started to open the door with the other.
Two seconds.
The car hit the bollard, and he thrust the door open as the man chopped down with the gun, missing his head by a fraction.
One second.
He hit the ground and started rolling away from the car as fast as he could. He heard the rear door open as Adaire started to get out. He rolled again and put his hands on his head.
Now.
The End
The Operation Jigsaw trilogy concludes with “In the Red Corner”.
Author’s Note
Thank you for reading this book; I hope you enjoyed it.
I would normally include a sample of my next book at this point - but as you’ve noticed, it finishes on something of a cliff-hanger. To find out if Tom survives the bomb, go to the Amazon page for In the Red Corner and either download the Sample, or buy the book…
In this book, all the characters are fictional, and so are most of the places: the whole town of Earlsbury exists only in my imagination - and yours, of course.
Both sides of my family, for many generations, came from the Black Country, and I wanted to give a flavour of what it’s like to live there - the people, the attitudes and the accent. If you think I’ve not done it justice, let me know.
Hong Kong, London and Kabul are real enough but as they’re only bit-part players in this book, they don’t count.
Both CIPPS and the MCPS are fictional.
To find out more about the books, please visit:
www.pawpress.co.uk
Acknowledgments
This book would not have been written without love, support, encouragement and sacrifices from my wife, Anne. She agreed to carry on full time work and let me step down so I could write. I also do the cooking and ironing, so it’s not a one-way deal.
Thanks also to the tribe of readers who gave the thumbs-up to the books (with the occasional thumbs-down to certain sections): Jen Driver, Jane McQuillin, Martin Marriott, Mark Nicholson, Gail Sheldrick, Bob Smith, Martin Trent and Chris Tyler. Speaking of Chris, thanks also to the fellow members of Kendal Writers’ Café.
A special mention has to go to former DC Nick Almond of Cumbria Constabulary for sharing his experiences with me (and to
his daughter, Amy, for introducing us).
Finally, I am grateful for the professional services of the team at 2QT Publishing. Thanks are owed to Hilary Pitt for designing the cover and to Joanne Harrington for proofreading. It should be emphasised that any remaining errors are entirely my own and not Joanne’s.
If you are thinking of publishing your own work, I can strongly recommend the services from 2QT.
About the Author
Mark apologises if this picture is a little overwhelming - Amazon’s formatting can be unpredictable.
Mark Hayden is the writing name of Adrian Attwood. He lives in Westmorland with his more famous wife, Anne.
Adrian has had a varied career working for a brewery, teaching English and being the Town Clerk in Carnforth. He is now a part-time writer and part-time househusband.
The first of his books, the Operation Jigsaw trilogy are on Amazon, as is the next boom in the Tom Morton Series - A Serpent in Paradise. He hopes to release more in 2015.
(Author photo: Phil Hatfield, Barrow in Furness, England)
If you click onto the next page you will be taken to Amazon, where they should offer ‘More by the Same Author’ - and they ask you to Rate this Book. Please do!