“Explosion destroys select suburban London offices.”
This dramatic headline was carried in the national newspapers; television and all media had something to say about it. Some editors focussed on possible reasons and analysis. Others focus on the distraught wife of the systems analyst who had been working late and who been injured in the explosion. Many editors focussed on the heroic young man passing by who assisted in the rescue and had been injured by the smoke and flames.
Bill propped up on pillows in his hospital bed immediately recognised the address of the company as being the one that he and Mike had made enquiries. He shook his head wearily. He had hoped that he was no longer under threat. But he now had little doubt that he was at in the gravest of danger and that there was a force at large that would accept no risk of being discovered and cared little of the consequences.
The destruction of these corporate premises neatly, viciously and effectively removed the only line of inquiry that could point to the controllers of this organisation. To imagine that they would not also seek to have him permanently put out of action seemed to Bill wishful thinking. He sighed again and turned to the telephone by his bed.
“Denise, is there any chance you could come and see me again? And could you bring me something to wear.”
Mike’s wife at the other end of the telephone replied efficiently and a matter-of-factly.
“I’ve got appointments this morning and one in the middle of the afternoon. I could go round your house after work this evening and collect some things for you. When does visiting time end?”
“I know it’s imposing on you but is there any chance you could make it this lunchtime. Is there anybody else that could do your appointment for you this afternoon.”
Denise sounded surprised. “It all sounds a bit mysterious,” she said. “But if that’s what you really want.”
“And could you buy me something in the shops rather than getting them from my home?” His voice was anxious now. She had to understand that she must not go back to his house but he couldn’t tell her why on the telephone.
“What are you thinking of?”
“I’ll tell you when you get here,” he said, “please do as I say.”
Denise walked quickly and precisely into his hospital room at one thirty in the afternoon. She was wearing a neat black knee length skirt, white blouse and a dark waistcoat and carrying a bag from a local department store. She laid out a light grey tracksuit, underwear and a pair of sports shoes at the foot of his bed.
“Size ten shoes I think,” she said, “Your feet are slightly bigger than Mike’s.
“How you women notice these things will always be a marvel to me,” said Bill, gratefully struggling to sit up.
“Now are you going to tell me what this is about,” said Denise.
“If you will keep an eye on the corridor and watch for anybody coming, I’ll tell you as I get dressed,” said Bill.
Denise walked over to the entrance of the private room to keep an eye on the corridor. Behind her Bill painfully climbed out of bed and into the tracksuit.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “could you help me with my socks and shoes. Im not to good at touching my toes these days.”
He was now sitting on the side of the bed, dishevelled and obviously in discomfort. Denise collected his socks and shoes from the foot of the bed and knelt at his feet to put them on him.
“I take it that you are discharging yourself from this hospital,” she said, grimly, “given your state of health that seems to be a very odd thing to do.”
“It may be an odd thing to do but I think it is the safest thing to do. Technically I won’t even be discharging myself, as I am not even going to stay around to do the paperwork. I have written a brief note which I have put in the bedside table so that they won’t waste time looking for me but that is all.”
“How good are you at standing up,” said Denise.
“Take my arm and I’ll tell you,” said Billy. He gave her a sideways smile and for a moment there was the devil may care twinkle in his eye that she had always admired. Then the eyes darkened with pain as he slowly stood up.
“It’s fortunate,” he said, “that this room is at the end of the building. If we turn left outside, there is a lift that will take us down to the ground floor, which is right next, the car park. Do you think you can make it?”
“Aye, aye Captain,” said Denise cheerfully.
With a determined strides and grimacing with pain, Bill, with a lot of help from Denise, made for the door. Five minutes later, far quicker than Bill had dared to hope, they were in Denise’s Peugeot Saloon car and driving out of the hospital.
“Where to now Captain,” she said.
Bill was trying to look in every direction at the same time.
“Could you make your the M3 motorway,” he said. “It will give us some time to talk.”
“More and more mysterious,” Denise said, smiling, and took the exit from the roundabout for the motorway.
Billy came straight to the point.
“I think somebody will try to kill me again and I need to find somewhere safe. I can’t go home because that’s the first place anybody will look. I can’t go to the police. They have treated this whole matter as the road traffic accident. I’m positive that it isn’t.”
“I’m flattered that you thought of me,” said Denise “but is this anything to do with Mike.”
“Probably. He asked me to help with a computer problem. It seemed innocuous at the time just like somebody playing a prank. But since then a green mini van tried to run me over, the place we visited to make enquiries was blown up and Mike has now become just plain evasive. I think he knows more than he saying.”
“I thought there was something going on Mike was keeping quiet. He was always good at keeping things to himself,” said Denise, wryly. “It’s a real job to find out what he’s thinking at the best of times and then, when you find out, it’s often not worth that. Hes just a muddled thinker.”
“He’s creative,” said Bill, “creative people are not supposed to thinking straight lines.”
“Perhaps there isn’t much room in the world for creative people any more,” said Denise, bitterly. “It’s not easy when you are the main breadwinner and have to keep home as well as support a husband who at least half the time behaves like a drifter and the rest of the time is in a dream like state.”
Bill chuckled and then winced.
“I’m not much use either at the moment, either,” said Bill. “But I’m mending fast and if I can find somewhere to hole up for about a week, Ill be in business again. The miracle is that I am still in one piece at all.”
“Do you really think that somebody is trying to kill you?”
“It all sounds a bit fanciful, but I’m positive,” said Billy. “And the worst is that if theyve seen us together, you will become a target too, even if it’s only as a way of getting at me.”
“But why dont you think Mike is under threat to? Surely we should warn him!”
“The only explanation I can think of is that Mike is now working with them!”
Denise’s face set stonily in disapproval at Bill’s reply.
“Things have been difficult between us recently and this whole matter has pushed us apart. On the one hand, if you are right, I am relieved to know that he might be safe. On the other hand, if he is getting involved with gangsters or anything illegal, given the nature of my job, it’s extremely worrying.”
They were on the motorway now. Bill had noticed them taking a turning for the South. Denise drove quickly and efficiently. She seemed to have made a decision. She looked sideways at Bill who was now looking at questioningly.
“I have an old school friend who lets out a holiday cottage near Basingstoke,” Denise said. “She normally lets to people visiting England from abroad who want to be fairly close to London but also to avoid the high cost of staying in London. Unfortunately for her due to the high level of the pound the cottage is not let. I can collect the key from the neighbour and can sort it out with my friend once we are in. I know that she will be happy to get a bit of rent from it from somebody she can be sure of.”
“You’re a genius,” said Bill, thankfully. He reached out and gently touched her just above her knee. It was a touch of companionship - a gesture of friendliness and gratitude. Denise flushed and laughed nervously and tossed her head, for a moment looking like a young girl on her first date. It was not a reaction that he was expecting but he couldn’t deny that for a moment it brought to twinkle back to his eye.
“Why don’t you leaned back and get a bit of sleep,” said Denise, “it’ll take another half-hour, at least.”
“I don’t think Ill be able to sleep,” said Billy, “I keep wondering if there’s anyone following us.”
Denise laughed, easily. “No green mini vans in sight. The only thing that’s behind us at the moment is a rather smart red sports car. Nothing like what you’re talking about.”
“How long do think it’s been there,” said Bill, casually.
“I noticed it just after we turned onto the motorway and it hasnt overtaken us although weve been travelling well within the speed limit.” A note of tension had entered her voice.
“I don’t want to worry you,” said Bill, “but I saw red sports car in the car park of the hospital.”
“It’s got a soft black top,” said Denise.
“Oh dear,” said Bill. “It looks as if I got out in the nick of time.”
“What do we do now,” said Denise.
“There’s only one thing to do,” said Bill, “We have to lose him.”
“May I remind you I am not the Sweeney,” said Denise, edgily.
“Look, there are services coming up in 5 miles, I have a plan. Just do exactly what I say,” said Bill.
Minutes later Bill said, “start indicating left now.”
“He’s indicating too,” said Denise.
“Pull into the slip road and slow your speed down as you would do normally. Keep indicating left.”
Bill’s tone sharpened. As soon as we have nearly come to the end of the slip road, indicate right and ease back onto the motorway.
“He’s following is,” said Denise.
“No worry,” said Bill, “take the next turning off the motorway and at the roundabout go round twice. As soon as you or onto the roundabout, increase your speed as much as you can. You need to get behind him.”
“I wish you were driving,” Denise said.
“You’ll be all right,” reassured Bill.
Five minutes later, Denise slipped onto the roundabout that ran underneath the motorway and put her foot decisively on the accelerator. With a fierce look on her face and hunched forward in concentration she coaxed the howling engine through the gears between two surprised sales representatives and round a builder’s van on the inside. Then she disappeared round the next bend in the roundabout to the blare of angry horns. But wonderfully, as she came back to their entry point on the roundabout, ahead, just entering the roundabout, was the red sports car.
“Keep your distance,” commanded Bill.
“Aye, aye Captain,” snapped out Denise. A tiny grin played on her set lips.
Indecisively, the red sports car missed the next turning off the roundabout but went off at the next.
“Stay on the roundabout for a moment turn off now,” commanded Bill.
Denise swung wheel over instantly, thankful that there was nothing in the way and grateful that Bill must have checked in his mirror.
The road was the A303, which was ideal, and what was even more perfect was that, although they both kept a very close check on the mirror, no red sports car came back into sight.
The thin sun had disappeared and the wind freshened under a slate grey sky when 3/4 of an hour later, with the car parked safely in a garage nearby, and with the key to the house firmly in Denise’s grip, they walked down the path to the front door. It was a pretty little terraced house with roses around the doorway and trelliswork in an unpretentious garden. The front door opened directly into the dining room and then through a glass door there was the lounge. Beyond the lounge was a sunny conservatory overlooking a small lawn at the back. Everything was smart and tidy.
Bill looked around approvingly.
“It’s terrific,” he said.
They checked out the bedrooms and the bathroom.
“I’ll get you some shaving staff, yours is still at the hospital,” said Denise.
Bill struck his brow with the palm of his hand. “I wish I’d thought of that,” he said.
“It’s better we left when we did, even if we forgot some things,” Denise said. “At least we’re here now, and in one piece.”
“And I must admit,” said Bill, “I’m now feeling very tired. Do you mind if I collapse on that bed in there. It looked very welcoming.”
Denise helped him to remove his shoes and went to the window to draw the curtains a little. By the time she turned around, Bill’s eyes were peacefully closed and his breathing was very steady. Denise watched him from a minute, a small smile playing on her lips. She thought how boyish men appeared in their sleep and then wondered about the affection she felt for this chubby man. He had always been Mike’s friend although she couldn’t deny she was always pleased to see him.
Rod gritted his teeth and over revved the gears of the little red sports car, angrily. Yet again hed have to admit hed failed. Hed been sent to the hospital to finish off the hit and run job. It had seemed so easy. The small handgun he was to use nestled in his trouser pocket, making him feel optimistic and powerful.
He had relished the thought of pulling the trigger. He had rehearsed in his mind how he would do it. He was going to say the amount he was being paid. Three times, he was going to say 500. Three shots to the head, his instructions had said. 500, 500, 500.
“You can’t be too careful in a hospital. There are too many people that could make him well,” the little man in the computer had said.
Now hed not only failed the hit, hed also lost the prey. Worse still, they knew they were being followed. This meant that even if he could find where they had gone, they would be on their guard. Rod hit the steering wheel with the palm of his hand until it hurt so much he had to stop. In his mind’s eye, it was the fat mans head that he was hitting and the gun was in his hand. In his imagination, the mans head became matted with blood and for a brief moment he almost convinced himself that he’d been successful. But he knew he hadn’t and he didn’t think that his paymaster would be pleased.
Suddenly Rod knew that he was afraid. Hed already experienced the consequences of failure once and it had been painful. Like many bullies, his own pain was his greatest fear. But he was addicted to the life-style; he liked the money and the work. Whatever the consequences of failure, however painful, he knew hed have to stay on for more. And there was just one thing he knew about that could help him find his target again.
