by C B Barrie
And yet, that presupposed he could find a suitable site in some part of built up London in which to ambush Gregson and remove him. Not only that, it might well be the case that there was nowhere on Gregson’s daily routes to and from Consolidated Mines where his ‘accident’ would not be under observation. Furthermore, there was nowhere in central London where Caplin’s preparations would be noted or where Gregson could be eliminated without the aftermath creating a mass of suspicion.
No, the first plan was ill conceived. But there was an alternative, which was to entice him into a far more propitious site and carry out the assassination without the risk of countless witnesses – and to do that he had to change tact. He already knew the identity of the car he would be waiting for, a big red Jaguar XE. Not only that, but he knew its registration and who would be driving it. In essence that was all the information he needed. All that was then required was to find a way to get Gregson driving towards Morvah, Cornwall, on the B3066; indeed, that scenario was far easier to contrive than a messy and dangerous London ambush. He had to admit it, the chances under these alternative conditions were good; after all, he was well used to it.
Caplin took the long drive back to Metlab, only stopping a few times for coffee, sandwiches and the toilet.
As he drove at a relaxed and steady seventy over the motorways, he ran through a number of possible ways to ensnare Gregson; in the end he chose the simplest, a tactic that depended on offending Gregson’s ego.
His return to Metlab was late, but the night duty security officer, Roscoe manning the security barrier, simply waved him through without even querying his arrival on a Thursday instead of the usual Friday.
He parked, and immediately made his way to his office and his telephone. He dialled out using a number he had acquired from Ellis; it rang at Consolidated Mines’ offices at Milbank.
He looked at his watch, all the while listening to the ring tone coming back into his receiver. It was five fifty five and the chances were good that the switchboard at CM was still manned, but unlikely that Gregson was still in his office. Nevertheless, he needed to try. Attempting to recall and to mimic Ellis’ idiomatic voice, he waited.
‘Consolidated Mines.’
‘Yes, good evening, I’m trying to contact your Mr. Bartholomew Gregson, it’s urgent.’
‘Moment please.’
The line went dead except for a faint ring tone. He waited as the operator went through her motions. Then an irritated male voice came on.
‘Gregson.’
Surprise, surprise! Gregson was still in his office.
‘Mr. Gregson, my name is Nathaniel Ellis, you may remember me from my time as a CM sponsored undergraduate, and while I was carrying out my PhD.’
For a few seconds Gregson said nothing. Then he replied - an impatient and intimidating reply.
‘Yes Ellis, I remember you well and I think you owe me an apology.’
‘Do I Mr. Gregson? No, I don’t agree. I met your agent Holden and he made it crystal clear that I was to honour the illicit and immoral agreement that I had with you and CM over my university sponsorship. I won’t be your spy Mr. Gregson and I can tell you that if you continue to insist on it I will ensure you take the consequences.’
A sound came down the line akin to a gasp.
‘What the hell do you mean by that you bloody nonentity, how dare you threaten me.’
‘I dare Gregson because I’m sick of being made to do something which shames me, which makes me despise myself for my stupidity in agreeing your sponsorship terms and conditions. If you persist I will report you to your own company, I’m sure they would be horrified to learn in detail how you operate, and how much public damage it would incur if the story was leaked to the press.’
‘And what good would that do you Ellis? Your own employer would learn of your dishonesty and disloyalty and you’d be out of a job too, and for a very long time.’
‘True, but I’d risk that just to see you hang. Make no mistake, I’m just about at the end of my tether, stay away or else.’
‘Don’t you bloody well talk to me like …’
Caplin slammed the phone down and sat looking at it. Gregson would know where the call came from; his switchboard could trace it. He had to trust that Gregson would have to decide he had no choice but to confront Ellis. If so, Gregson was heading for a nasty shock.
Far away, in a cosseted office bedecked with endorsements, certificates of recognition and photographs of Gregson obsequiously and sycophantically grovelling to the great and good, Gregson fumed.
He was damned if a second rate, insignificant moron like Ellis was going to impose conditions on him. No way - not if he had anything to do with it.
He picked up the phone again and dialled a mobile number. It was Prescott who answered but other than slurring his name, he wasn’t given a chance to say another word.
‘Prescott, this is Gregson, disregard what I said this morning about what I wanted you and Davies to do for me. We are taking a trip to Cornwall tomorrow. Get yourself and that scruffy sidekick of yours outside my offices tomorrow at eight fifteen a.m. and be ready for a long haul - we’re paying a visit to someone who thinks they can Welch on an agreement and seems to think I’m a pushover. We are going to rectify his thinking and ensure he does as he’s told in future.’
Prescott had listened in silence, but as Gregson finished he started to calculate how much money he and Davies would now be losing with the reported change in circumstances. He had no illusions about Gregson, he was fully aware of how vindictive the man could be. But, he didn’t like losing money, to him it was akin to losing the holy grail. Come what may, he was going to confront Gregson about their lost income in the morning. Nevertheless, until then he and Davies had to show willing.
‘Okay, chief, eight fifteen it is, see you then.’
16
Caplin realised it was a long shot, he was depending on Gregson’s arrogance and an unassailable sense of superiority to force him to drive down from London and take direct action against Ellis.
Contrary to Gregson’s point of view, Ellis was entirely innocent and had no bearing on the matter. Yet, Caplin knew that antagonising Gregson was something Ellis could never approve of. But then, if all went well he would never get to know of it; and even if he did, it was in his best interests. Not only that, eliminating Gregson was crucial in clearing the way for exploiting the experimental work. Indeed, while Ellis bowed to any threat from Gregson, the pathway to disseminating their experimental results could be thwarted.
It was going to be a long day for Caplin.
He arose early, ate breakfast and prepared three flasks of hot tea and coffee and a day’s worth of sandwiches and cakes. He already had the implements he needed for the ambush and it was only the timing that would determine everything; Gregson had to be on the B3066 sometime that day. If not, Caplin would need to repeat his preparations every day after the bank holiday and patiently wait at the same place until Gregson did finally appear. But the chances were that if Gregson insisted on intercepting Ellis the only time he could do so, without Ellis’ home address in his hand, would be today. The upcoming bank holiday meant that should Gregson not make his way to Metlab today, his next chance of getting at Ellis would be the next Tuesday after the holiday.
And that, Caplin calculated, was doubtful. If Gregson was going to challenge Ellis it would have to be today, or let too much time pass probably allowing his frustration and anger to dissipate.
This time it was going to be different. With Meredith he had sliced the car in two and the separation had been clean and clinical. But, as he had observed, had the two halves of Meredith’s car failed to disappear over the cliff, he would have been left with the divided wreck stranded on the side of the road. He would have had no way of moving or hiding the car or disposing of Meredith’s remains. That scenario would have left a perfect forensic map for any investigator with half a brain. The perfect line of cleavage would have started alarm bells ring
ing in any forensic scientists head - what could have caused it, and what trace elements had been left on metal surfaces along the line of cut.
It was the kind of investigation that might well have spelled trouble for him. If there was to be any trail of scent following his elimination of troublemakers, it had to be as faint, and as far from him, as possible.
He laid the wire filament across the road using the UV lamp to see where it needed to be tied down on the old granite milestone. This time it was almost nine inches below where the thread had been tied for Meredith’s car. The faint but deep incision on the granite milestone still testified to his previous handiwork. If he remembered correctly, the Jaguar had far larger wheels and the tyre sidewalls exceeded that of Meredith’s Ford by a couple of inches. He had no direct measurements to guide him, but in his estimation the Jaguars tyre sidewall height was no more than six inches. As such, he decided on a four-inch gap between the road surface and the wire height; it was unlikely he needed it any higher.
Not hearing any approaching vehicles he crossed the road. Using the Stellite spools and wearing double chain mail gloves he secured one end of the wire low down and around the offside granite milestone. For the moment he left the wire laying on the road surface – all he needed was an early sight of Gregson’s Jaguar and he would pull at the wire spool to tighten the wire and pull it upwards above the road surface. Then, as he uncoiled the wire and freed more of it he would wrap the excess wire around the nearside milestone. It was purely a matter of a few seconds for him to accomplish it, and he would be away and out of sight from the vehicle in question just as rapidly.
All he had to do now was keep warm and wait.
It was coming on to one forty five p.m. on the Friday afternoon, and so far Caplin had seen nothing to excite him.
No more than a dozen cars had passed along the road to and from Morvah and not one had the identity he was hoping for. Somewhat disappointed he made his way back to his concealed car for a first round of sandwiches and another coffee. He was quick to remove his rations and make his way back to his surveillance position behind a small outcrop of rocks and scrub bushes. He was concentrating on vehicles making their way towards Morvah, it was the only direction Gregson could take to get to Ellis, although Caplin had no idea how Gregson might succeed in his intentions if he was only able to intercept Ellis as Ellis left Metlab. He certainly would never penetrate Metlab without authority and as such could not confront Ellis in his office or the laboratory.
He had just consumed the last of his midday rations when he caught a flash of red on the road some distance away. It was a metallic dark red and not a block of colour likely to be of another make and model of car – it was a colour he undoubtedly recognised – it was that of a Jaguar.
He had twenty five seconds to secure the wire and then vanish. That was the gap in time between the first distant sighting of the car and the time it took to come into full view and would be able to see him. He threw down his plastic coffee cup and the cling film wrapping that had held his sandwiches. Still chewing the last morsel of his final sandwich, he was already on the move, and strode forward to kneel behind the offside milestone. He slipped on the overlaid chain mail gloves and took hold of the Stellite spool. He pulled it back until he felt everything tighten and then he started to uncoil the spooled wire around the milestone.
Though he could not see the wire passing around the milestone he made the spool form three passes around the granite and then he let the heavy spool hang over the taught length of indiscernible wire now spanning the road. With that done he rose to his feet and skipped back to his observation point.
As he waited for the arrival of the Jaguar he started a countdown in his head. Just as the count reached seven he heard the deep exhaust note of the rapidly oncoming Jaguar. In seconds it was abreast of his position and engaging the wire straddling the road.
There followed a series of shock wave reverberations as every car tyre was incised and instantly lost a semicircle shaped portion of its casing. Every one then explosively deflated with the remnants flapping around the rims and hammering the inside of the wheel arches.
He watched as he saw the driver desperately attempting to regain control of the car as it slewed across the road with the brakes attempting to drag back each wheel’s rotation. Caplin could see the two rear passengers and it was obvious to him that one of them was Gregson, and his face showed undiluted panic.
Now the car was attempting to do what was physically impossible given its momentum. There was no control from the steering as the damaged tyres tried to peel themselves away from the wheel rims. The violent and asynchronous jumping of each of the four unbalanced wheels made the car lift and thump down independently on all four points of its suspension. It had skidded on to the other side of the road and was clearly about to overturn as the last tyre escaped its rim. At that instant a fast moving blue Volvo Xc60 SUV rounded the road on the nearside and as it saw what was confronting it, instantly braked hard and, with shrieking tyres, tried to steer away from the oncoming Jaguar. But it was too late.
The two vehicles collided with an enormous combined momentum; body sections exploding on impact. The Volvo had the greater impetus and Caplin stood stunned as the Jaguar’s front caved in like a tin box and was driven back. The Volvo fared no better, its whole front crumpling and disintegrating as if in slow motion. Each car’s windscreen burst into fragments and the rear body shells jumped upwards as the front portions absorbed the collision and threw up a cloud of broken glass, plastic shards and engine components. For a short and dramatic few seconds the two crushed vehicles slowly started to grind to a halt. Only the sound of metal fragments hitting the road, or dragging themselves over the surface, made any noise.
Suddenly, out of the underside of the Jaguar, a great jet of fire bloomed out. As it did so, it was followed by an even larger, but softer, envelope of fire, which quickly engulfed the whole vehicle. Moments later, the torn and leaking fuel lines in the Volvo had been ignited, and they too burst into flames.
From where he stood Caplin could see the shattered front of the Volvo before the flames obscured the two vehicles. The driver of the Volvo was slumped forward over a flat and now burning and melting, air bag, but he was motionless. The rear occupants of the Jaguar were no longer visible, having been without seat belts. They had cannoned into the back of the car’s front seats. They had failed abysmally to get any protection from the rear air bags. The Jaguar driver’s head was just visible, but he too had only been saved from instant and immediate death by his air bags. But like the Volvo they had deflated, and he too was apparently incapable of movement. Caplin waited, watching for some time as the two cars became the centre of a fierce, blazing torrent of smoke and flame. They burnt voraciously into smouldering, scorching, red-hot wrecks with their occupants slowly being reduced to charred corpses.
It was the outcome that he wanted although he felt a moment’s sympathy for the man driving the Volvo. It was a shame, whoever he was, to have fallen on misfortune that day; but for all that, he had played his part well. Without him there would have been no guarantee that the Jaguar, with Gregson on board, would have met its end quite so effectively. No, as far as Caplin was concerned, it had all concluded just as he hoped; all he had to do now was remove his booby trap and make his way home.
As he got into his car the windscreen started to show raindrops and as he drove around the still burning wreckage, carefully bypassing all the anonymous debris scattered across the road, he felt slightly elated. It was as if divine intervention had ruled his day and nothing could detract from his triumph. As he extended distance between himself and the burning pyre that marked his handiwork, he glanced in the car’s rear view mirror and saw a massive plume of dense black smoke marking where the collision had taken place. It would be obvious from a distance, being wafted here and there by gusts of wind. Sooner or later it would be spotted by a passing car or a walker on the cliff path, but by then very little would be left to i
dentify what had originated any part of it.
He drove on, and since it was the start of the bank holiday his mind turned to other things. Other than attacking the patent specification, which still needed to be done; he now had the opportunity for a good long time entirely to himself. He would be able to relax completely, without the need to plan further assassinations.
All other matters aside, he was going to enjoy himself.
17
Nichols watched as the various emergency, recovery and fire crews worked around the wreckage of the two burnt out vehicles.
The fire crews were still damping down the central core of the still red hot mound of crushed and fused metal, and until it was done the ambulance teams and the pathologist had nowhere to go. Only after area examination, and police road measurements, could the big recovery wagons get on with the job of hauling everything that still remained away. He still had no idea how and when the accident had occurred. A cliff walker had only discovered it through a chance encounter; she had come across the scene after approaching the plume of smoke at a distance, and had reported the incident to the police using a mobile phone.
It was a guess, but Nichols reckoned the collision had taken place a good few hours earlier and he was surprised the wreckage had not been discovered before it actually was. Now of course came the nasty aspect of having to identify the victims and then notifying next of kin. That particular need, in this case, might not be so easy – the fire had been intense and there was little remaining, or to be found, of the people who had died in the collision. There wasn’t much he or his team from St Ives could do as things stood; it had to be left to the RTA (Road Traffic Accident) investigators from Camborne.