by Bill Ward
Tom was actually pleased to move a few hundred yards down the road to the cheap hotel, which he occasionally frequented for a beer. The house was full of unpleasant memories of the previous night’s events and Tom didn’t want to stay inside too long. In fact he’d already decided he would have to move house. He didn’t fancy coming home every day to a place which would now always generate bad memories. As he went upstairs, he’d had to navigate past two forensic policemen on their hands and knees, combing the floor for clues. Where his brother had lain was now an outline on the floor and he guessed the kitchen would have a similar one for John Harding but he didn’t plan to check.
Melanie had heard about the shootings on the morning news and had chastised Tom for not calling her earlier. She had arranged for a taxi to take her directly to Brighton and after obtaining the address where he was staying, promised to be with him within a couple of hours. Tom felt enormously relieved that she was on her way. He desperately wanted to see her and have her close to him.
He was worried it might be dangerous for her but she’d laughed off as ridiculous his suggestion that what she should do, was to take the first plane back to the States. He hadn’t really said it from the heart though he hoped he sounded as if he meant it. The last thing he really wanted was for her to leave. If she did, he doubted he would ever see her again. Why would he? He had little to offer her except the risk of being killed. Yet right now he wanted her around him more than ever. With Colin in hospital he needed her support and strength. His was fast draining away.
Then he realized that Melanie Adams was about to visit him and would see his small house and how he lived his normal life. She lives in Malibu on the beach! He actually smiled. The comparison with Brighton was so ridiculous. Surely she would beat an early retreat to home once she saw how and where he lived.
Liz had remained behind at the hospital and promised to call if there was any change in Colin’s condition. Tom found just being at the hospital depressing. The whitewashed walls were drab and in need of a new coat of paint. In places the paint was actually peeling and everywhere there were the definite signs of under investment and cut backs within the NHS. Little was out of place but there was no colour, no vibrancy and in need of something to lift his spirits, instead he found himself getting depressed not just by his brother’s condition but also by the surroundings.
Showered and shaved he’d returned to his home and crossed the road to see if he could do anything for Janet Harding. She had her sister with her who made tea, while Tom struggled to find the words to express his sorrow. She was remarkably resilient and quick to insist that Tom wasn’t to feel in anyway guilty for what happened. As she put it, “it was that damn fool of a husband’s decision not to wait for the police to arrive.” Then she added proudly, “and I wouldn’t have had him any other way.”
Tom drank his tea and reported that Colin was still critical but had a fighting chance. He accepted the offer of a chocolate digestive biscuit, which he dipped in his tea surreptitiously.
“I don’t know what the world’s coming to,” Janet said solemnly. “What with my John and Lord Bancroft killed in one night.”
Tom hadn’t listened to any news since returning from the hospital. He immediately made the Irish connection but was unsure what this news meant. For a moment he regretted ever having gone to Melanie’s aid but he dismissed that thought as pointless hindsight. It also wasn’t true. He was glad he had been able to help her and not just because it turned out she was a beautiful and famous film star. He had done something decent in his life and managed to help another human being. He would always feel good about that. Maybe the deaths were linked but maybe they weren’t. It was for the authorities to determine.
Janet recalled how she and John had met and after about an hour Tom explained he had to leave, as Melanie was due. This news caused several minutes excitement on the part of both Janet and her sister, who seemed almost disbelieving she would shortly be just along the road from them. He made a mental note to have them meet but didn’t make any promises, as he didn’t feel it fair to commit Melanie in her absence.
Back at the hotel again Tom sat in the lounge, which had a view of the hotel reception and through the windows he would also be able to see a taxi arrive. There was a television and he turned on the twenty-four hour news channel to learn more about Bancroft’s death. He was still watching when he heard a car draw up outside. He watched through the window as Melanie stepped onto the pavement and cast her eyes about, before starting up the short path to the hotel’s front door. He moved quickly to greet her on the doorstep and without words he took her in his arms and held her close for a few seconds.
She broke the embrace and looked up into his face, “Are you okay?” she asked concerned. “I seem to be always asking you that.”
“I’m fine. Just a bit shell shocked.” He led her into the hotel. “Let’s go up to my room,” he suggested. “We’ll have more privacy.” He was pleased the reception was almost deserted and nobody took any notice of the two of them, as they climbed the one flight of stairs to his room. He noticed Melanie was wearing a simple black dress under her coat and was sure she had done so out of respect for what had transpired.
Tom opened his room with the heavy key, which pointed to the old-fashioned nature of the hotel. No electronic key cards or modern furnishings were in evidence. He stood back to allow Melanie to enter first.
He took her coat and asked, “Would you like a coffee or tea?”
“I’m okay, thanks.”
He realized she probably thought he was going to have to call room service. He doubted her hotels came equipped with kettles in the room. “I have everything we need to make tea,” he said pointing at the kettle. “I’m going to have a cup.”
Melanie smiled. “Someone once told me that the English see tea as the answer to any problem. I’ll have a cup of Earl Grey if there is any please.”
Tom searched the selection of tea bags and proudly held aloft one marked Earl Grey before depositing it in a cup. “It was good of you to come,” he said while waiting for the kettle to boil.
“I’m so sorry about your brother,” Melanie apologised, as she sat on the edge of the bed. “I seem to have brought you nothing but trouble.”
“It’s not your fault,” Tom stressed. “You’re not the one running around trying to kidnap and shoot people.”
She didn’t look convinced. “How is Colin?” she asked.
“There’s no real change but I’m sure he’ll pull through.” Tom was feeling more optimistic with each passing hour he didn’t hear any bad news.
“But what if he doesn’t? You’ll never forgive me. I’ll never forgive myself.”
“Enough,” Tom demanded. “We can’t blame ourselves for what’s happened to Colin.” Or at least you can’t he was thinking. Then more gently he added, “I thought I’d pop by the hospital later. Do you want to come?”
“I’d like to.”
“Good. We can’t sit around moping. There’s just someone nearby I want you to say hello to on the way out. If you’re up to it?”
Sam met Eduardo at arrivals in terminal five of Heathrow. Although she hadn’t seen him for three months he hadn’t changed. There was the same dark hair and complexion plus the moustache and pearly white teeth. He wasn’t very tall and she always thought he looked the typical image of a Mexican bandit and had told him so once, which caused him to rebuke her for calling him Mexican, though he didn’t seem bothered about being called a bandit!
She had filled her time waiting for him by shopping. Eduardo was an elegant man with sophisticated tastes. He was always smartly dressed and she wanted to be sure she looked the part when she inevitably undressed for him. She greeted him with a kiss to both cheeks. He smiled and enthused about how good it was to see her and how great her new hair style looked. He had an infectious good humour that immediately made her happy to be in his company. He also treated her with a respect you didn’t often get back home. He held open
the door of their taxi for her and was attentive to her every word as if he really was interested in what she had to say, not just desperate to get in her knickers.
The taxi took them to the exclusive hotel in Mayfair where he’d made a reservation. It was impossible to talk openly in the back of a taxi, so they had settled for trivial conversation about nothing important. He had promised his business would not take long and then they would head for Paris. She hoped the weather would improve.
All the time in the taxi, Sam felt Eduardo’s eyes on her, not in a creepy way but with an appreciative intensity. The hotel was opulent from the moment you walked through its front doors, which were opened by a very smartly attired doorman who smiled and wished them a good morning. The reception floor was covered in marble and Sam relaxed and felt safely shut away from the danger of Connor. Even Paris could wait. She could happily spend many days in this palace.
Once in Eduardo’s hotel room, Sam felt able to relax for the first time in what seemed ages. Eduardo ordered coffee and sandwiches from room service and left Sam looking at a newspaper while he took a shower. She had half expected him to suggest her joining him but was pleased he wasn’t rushing her. She liked the feeling of being pursued a little not just taken for granted. Of course, if he had asked she would have gladly joined him and there was no question of her being coy. She imagined Eduardo was a man who liked to take time and enjoy his pleasures. That was fine by her. She’d had enough quickies to last a life time.
Miller was looking at the first results of the background checks on Ashdown, which weren’t revealing very much he didn’t already know. No convictions for anything other than speeding and a drink driving in his twenties. Father was in the army and interestingly had done two tours of duty in Northern Ireland during the troubles. No information about whether Ashdown had been with him but it was highly unlikely. Anyway he would only have been a child then and no one in their right mind doing a six month tour of duty, took their families with them to Ireland. It was far too dangerous. It was though a tenuous connection with Ireland. He couldn’t completely ignore it.
Ashdown’s business was going through a tough period and he appeared to have multiple mortgages. He could certainly do with an injection of cash though that wasn’t unique in the current economic climate. Miller wasn’t seeing anything truly suspicious but he would order further checks. They needed to dig deeper. Although it took a huge stretch of the imagination to think Ashdown might have arranged the attempt to kidnap Melanie Adams and then saved her. Perhaps he’d had a change of heart when he saw how Maguire and Murphy were treating her and intervened. Miller liked a good mystery but he did feel this was probably beyond anyone’s imagination.
His phone rang and he listened intently for several minutes before thanking the caller for the news. So Connor was no longer in Brighton. He’d been on the early train to London. Why hadn’t the local police covered the station? Perhaps they did and he slipped by somehow. His caller had revealed that someone called Simon Sharpe had telephoned 999 to say that he and his friend had met Connor in a bar in Brighton and travelled with him as far as Haywards Heath, where they lived and had left the train. They had recognized his photo on the news and called in as good citizens. Miller was grateful for their call. It meant they could concentrate their resources back on London, rather than Brighton. As long as they were telling the truth. A local Chief Inspector by the name of Parkin was on his way to interview them. He should be able to tell if they were concocting any form of smoke screen to help hide Connor’s true location.
In truth Miller doubted they would learn anything from Parkin’s meeting but he was an optimist by nature. The glass was always half full not half empty. It was probable that Connor had simply used the Sharpe guy and his friend to help avoid detection at Brighton station. The police would have been looking for one man not three. Clever of him. Miller wondered when they were ever going to get a break in this case.
When Melanie had asked if there was a good hotel close by where she could stay, Tom had suggested the Hilton on the seafront. She announced she would take up residence immediately and called the hotel to check they had a suite available. She then sent to London for her things. He very much liked the idea of her being so close to home and he certainly wasn’t going to ask Melanie to stay at his hotel. He had started to harbour some real hope that she might actually be interested in seeing him longer term but as a betting man wasn’t getting too carried away. The odds were still stacked heavily against that happening.
They had visited the hospital and found Liz at Colin’s bed side. She announced that there was no change in his condition, which Tom had learned to treat as positive news. The Doctor had been clear that every hour that passed without problem increased Colin’s chances of survival. Tom observed Colin was connected to a machine showing his heart beating regularly and a drip feeding into his arm. To Tom’s untrained eye Colin looked like he was just enjoying a deep and peaceful sleep. Tom went to the side of the bed and delivered a silent message encouraging him to keep fighting and get well soon.
Liz accepted Melanie’s suggestion she should take a break and go for some coffee. Tom noticed that unlike almost everyone else over the last few days, Liz didn’t seem at all overawed by Melanie’s presence. What did surprise Tom was that Melanie said she was going with Liz and that Tom could keep an eye on Colin. Tom was once again impressed how easily Melanie could relate to people despite her superstar status. She knew Liz didn’t really like him and was taking her off for what would undoubtedly be some words of encouragement and a female shoulder to cry on, if required.
They had gone from the hospital straight back to the Hilton where Melanie suggested ordering some lunch from room service and Tom was looking at the menu when he felt his mobile vibrate. It was a withheld number which made him wonder if perhaps it was news from the hospital.
“Tom Ashdown,” he answered.
“Hello Mister Ashdown, this is Commander Miller at the Met. I’m in charge of anti-terrorist operations. I’m sorry to trouble you but I was wondering if I could meet with you?”
“Is it important? Only I wasn’t really planning on being in London again at the moment. I’d like to stay close to my brother.”
“I quite understand. I was thinking of paying you a visit down there. Would later this afternoon be possible?”
“I’m just about to have a late lunch here at the Hilton with Melanie Adams so basically any time after three would be okay.”
Tom detected the slight pause while Miller digested the information that Melanie Adams was in Brighton with him. “Well if I leave now I should be there about three thirty,” he said pleasantly. “Do you have a room at the hotel where we can meet privately?”
“Melanie does and I’m sure she would also like to find out what’s happening. She’s in the Seafront suite, so give us a call when you are near.”
“Good, I’ll see you later then.”
As Tom turned back to Melanie he could see an expectant look on her face. “That was a Commander Miller,” he explained. “He’s in charge of anti-terrorism and he wants to meet us. He’ll be here about three thirty so that just gives us time for some food.”
Melanie gave him a slightly quizzical look. “Are you really desperate for food only I had a better idea for how to spend the time?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Connor had reported in to a Chief apoplectic with anger. He’d been economical with the truth and mentioned nothing of the detail of what transpired in the small hotel room in Brighton. He painted a picture of a Sam Murphy obviously distraught with the arrest of her brother, running amok and shooting Ashdown’s brother and killing a neighbour. He didn’t know how she had managed to get herself a weapon. Perhaps from one of her father’s family in England he had suggested. Then when he had approached her, she had done a runner and tipped off the police to his whereabouts.
She was out of control and in his opinion a danger to everyone in the organization. She knew too much a
nd was unstable. It was his recommendation she be removed permanently. The Chief asked whether there was any way she could have been involved with the death of Bancroft, which had thrown Connor because he’d never considered the possibility. He’d answered that he didn’t know but it was possible given her state of mind. That had sealed the girl’s fate. The order was given. Connor should act with all haste to take her out.
At the same time, Connor had been reminded he still needed to focus on getting rid of her brother. Connor had the details of the route Murphy would be taking to Court that afternoon. He didn’t normally argue with the Chief but did point out his fingerprints had been all over the hotel room in Brighton and by now the police would have put his name to those prints, that was if the bloody bitch hadn’t actually named him in the call she must have made.
He didn’t fancy his chances of pulling this off and coming out in one piece but knew better than to argue with the Chief. Ultimately even he was expendable. An asset to be used at the Chief’s beck and call. He also knew though that he would be well rewarded if he could make the hit. The Chief had also uncomplicated matters by giving him free reign to use any means necessary to remove Murphy. Some collateral damage would be acceptable after all.
Connor had checked out the Court the previous day straight after he’d been given details of the route. To his mind there was too high a probability of a last minute change in the route they would take so he would be better positioned close to the Court itself. He knew the time Murphy was to appear in Court, so he reckoned his best chance lay in hitting the van as it slowed to enter the rear entrance of the Court, when it could be doing no more than 30mph. He had identified the best point from which to launch his attack. Now all he needed to do was collect the weapon from a flat in Finchley and try to stay out of reach of the cops for a few more hours.