Prologue

Standing in the operations room of the SIS building staring at the large screen on the back wall, Rebecca is watching a live video feed coming from a satellite orbiting 200 miles above the earth. Although deep in thought, she can feel all eyes are on her as the operations team waits for her instructions.
As if in a daze, she hears a voice in the background. “Ma’am, we’re waiting,”
This is her first operation since being newly promoted to head of the Secret Intelligence Service, and, as she is the first woman to head the department, everyone is watching her very closely, waiting for her to make the biggest cock up ever.
Rebecca quickly comes to her senses, and looks around to see a mixture of faces looking at her in anticipation. “Sorry, someone bring me up to speed. What are we looking at here? she says.
A short bald headed man sitting in front of her swivels around in his chair. “Well, we have an agent on the ground who is about to meet with the suspects and attempt to make a purchase.”
“And you are?” she says.
“Em, I’m Baker Ma’am.”
“Okay, Baker, what are we purchasing? And, exactly where in Iran is this feed coming from?”
“We’re asking for a shipment of 500 AK 47’s, and the feed is coming from a ship yard in Bandar-e- Abbas, in the Strait of Hormuz.
“Yes, I know where Bandar-e-Abbas is thank you Baker.”
“Of course, sorry Ma’am.”
“What cover is our agent using?”
“He’s acting as a go between for the Taliban in Afghanistan.”
“Okay, I take it we only have this satellite feed for a short time?”
“About another twenty minutes Ma’am.”
“Right, get a hold of the CIA office over there; I want a predator spy drone in the air. Once this meeting is over, I want the suspects tailed; I want to know where these people are working from. Once we know, get our agent to start surveillance on the location. I want pictures of everyone going in and out of that location, any questions?”
“No Ma’am.”
“Good, I want constant updates on my desk. Okay people we have an agent out there who is relying on us, so let’s stay sharp.”
She turns and heads for the door, the light in the corridor hurts her eyes as they start to adjust from the relative darkness of the operations room. She was just about to enter the lift when she hears a voice from behind.
“Rebecca, hold up.”
She holds the door open, “Michael what are you doing here?”
“I need to have a word if I may.”
“Sure, I’m just going up to my office now.”
“Congratulations on your promotion b y the way” As the doors close, he looks her up and down. “My! You certainly look the part Rebecca, in that nice black suit, what is it, Armani?”
“Actually it’s Versace, and thanks. But I’m sure the head of the Security Service isn’t here to compliment me on my dress sense.”
Then the doors to the lift open and they head into her office.
“Please take a seat. Would you like a drink?”
He is looking out of the window. “Yes, I’ll have a neat scotch please. Well, you definitely have a better view than I have.”
“So what can I do for you?” she asks.
He sits down and crosses his legs as Rebecca places the glass on the desk in front of him. “Well, more of a social call really. As you are new to the job, I thought I would help you get off to a good start, beginning with the unique partnership our two services have always had in the past.”
She leans back in her chair. “Oh, really, and what partnership would that be?”
He uncrosses his legs and leans forward to pick up his drink. “Well it’s quite simple really, you scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours.” He leans back in his chair and takes a sip from his glass.
Smug bastard, she thinks. “Oh, I see.” She says with a smirk on her face. “So exactly how would I do that?”
“Well, if say for instance you happen to have an operation running nationally, all I ask is you keep me in the loop, and give me regular updates. That sort of thing, you know how it works.”
She leans forward onto her desk and begins fiddling with a pencil. “Well Michael to be quite honest we are not called the Secret Intelligence Service for nothing. I mean, what part of Secret don’t you understand?”
He drops his smug look, leans forward, and places his glass on the desk. “Now look Rebecca, this job is hard enough, the fact that you’re a woman is going to make that even harder. So, if I was you I wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
Rebecca stands up and walks over to the window. “Now you listen to me, don’t let the fact I’m a woman concern you, or the fact I am new to the job.” She turns and faces him. “Michael, it’s no secret you were expecting to get this job, but someone higher up than you and I obviously thought I was more qualified. I, like you, worked my way up through the ranks, so please don’t come into my office spouting about how you think things should run between our two services okay.”
He stands up and begins buttoning his jacket. “Fine Rebecca, if that’s how you want to play it. But don’t come running to me when you fuck up and the ministers up top want your head on a platter.”
“Don’t worry Michael I won’t, and please, try not to slam the door on your way out.”
He straitens his jacket, turns and storms out of the room.
Just then, the phone rings. “Hello.” said Rebecca.
“Hello Ma’am, this is security at the front desk. I'm sorry to disturb you, but I have a Mr Jack Spader here, he doesn't have an appointment, but says he has some information you will be really interested in.”
“Then you better put him on the phone.”
"Hello Ma’am, you don't know me, but I have some important information with reference to your up and coming press conference."

"In what way?" she asks .
"Well, let me just say, it could be life threatening."
“In my business it usually is Mr Spader.”
“Yes I know, but in this case the life I’m talking about is yours.”
"In that case you better come up.”


CHAPTER ONE
Week One

The service entrance at the rear of the hospital was quiet; I began searching through some laundry bags left in a trolley near the loading bay. After going through a couple of bags, I found what I was looking for. A white coat, that at least looked as if it was clean. I stuffed my Glock 9mm pistol down the back of my trousers, put on the coat and headed for the service lift, once inside I pushed the button for the fourth floor. Having visited two days earlier and acting as the marks relative, I'd asked at the desk for his location. Luckily for me, he was in a private room, however, he did have one guard sat outside the door. The lift stopped and the door slid open, for a moment the bright light coming from the busy ward in front blinded me

Once out of the lift I stood still for a moment allowing my eyes to adjust and got a big wiff of what I believed to be antiseptic rushing through my nostrils. Then I began looking around in search of a room with a guard sat outside. Moving slowly through the ward I tried not to look suspicious, although, it was so busy that no one was interested in who I was, or what I was doing. Finally, I turned a corner and through the glass of a swinging door, I could see the guard. He wasn't in uniform, but it didn't take much to realise what he was and what he was doing. I was in luck he had a paper cup that he was still drinking from, I stepped through the swinging door, at the same time removing a syringe from my trouser pocket containing a tasteless fast acting laxative. As I neared the guard, he immediately placed his cup on the table next to his chair and stood up with his hand tucked inside his jacket. Wearing a dark blue suit and sporting a dark black goatee beard, he gave me a thousand yard stare. I just looked at him thinking, everyone seems to have a goatee nowadays, it must be in fashion; maybe I should try it.

"Excuse me doctor, who are you? This is not your patient, so you can’t enter this room."

I moved closer placing myself between him and the cup, I pretended to bump into the table and while steadying the cup I began slipping the laxative in. "Oh, sorry I'm just a locum and this is my first day. I'm trying to acquaint myself with the ward." Leaning forward I whispered into his ear. "This is a big chance for me; I don't want to screw it up by getting lost on my first call, if you know what I mean?"

He took his hand out from under his jacket and smiled. "I understand, but I'm afraid you can't hang around here."

"No problem, I won't bother you again, I promise."

I carried on down the corridor pass the guard and through another set of swinging doors. I noticed there was a toilet on the other side of the doors, and figured if I made my way back round to the first set of doors I would be able to watch the guard going to the toilet once the laxative set in. This would give me just enough time to enter the room, do the job, and get out.

It would only take around thirty seconds for the laxative to begin to take effect, so I didn't waste any time making my way back round to the first set of doors. Peaking around the corner, it wasn't long before I saw the guard lean forward in his chair holding his stomach, by the grimace on his face I could see he was in pain. He stood up and still clutching his stomach, dashed for the swinging doors, once I saw him enter the toilet I made my move.

Opening the door to the room, I could see the unconscious body of a man in his seventies laid on the bed with tubes coming from his arms and nose. I stood for a moment staring at the wrinkled faced, grey haired man thinking. He looks no more harmful than my own grandfather. However, this old man was about to turn Queens evidence and send a lot of people down. I quickly snapped out of it and took out another syringe containing potassium chloride, being a severe muscle relaxant it would quickly begin to shut down his vital organs, until he had heart failure. After removing the green cap from the intravenous drip, I placed the end of syringe into the opening, and pushed down on the plunger, I watched as the fluid slowly made its way down the tube and into his arm. I removed the syringe, replaced the cap, and left the room.

It would take a matter of seconds for the potassium chloride to do its job, and with this guy being in his seventies, they would almost certainly suspect a heart attack. I got back into the service lift and down to the loading bay. I quickly placed the white coat back into the bag, and moved briskly out to the car park. As I climbed into my car, I could hear sirens in the distance, getting closer with every second. I started the car and drove slowly out of the car park and onto the main road. As I moved down the road, I could see the flashing lights of what I hoped was just an ambulance in my rear-view mirror.

******

A week later, I received a phone call from my father telling me my ex wife Julie had died in a car crash, and my daughter Claire placed into foster care. He was too ill to take her in himself. Although I really enjoyed my work, and it did pay well, I instantly made the decision to give it up and take on my responsibilities as a father. Julie and I split up five years ago, she was fed up with me being away all the time, and felt I had become emotionally detached; she was right of course. Finally, I found out she was having an affair, I couldn't blame her really, I hadn't thought of her in a sexual way for some time, but more a readymade mother to our daughter.

I sat for a moment pondering the situation. I suppose the correct thing would be to take on my responsibilities as a father. Although I would be a hypocrite to even call myself a father. I would all most certainly have to give up my profession, and I am not sure I’m ready for that yet. I mean, this business had been very good to me, especially financially. Still I did have more than enough money to live a very comfortable life, even with Clair, and I always knew it would all have to come to end eventually. I suppose now was as good a time as ever.
The other problem was, I didn’t know if I even had the temperament or the skills to raise a ten year old daughter. On the other hand, I had no idea if she would want anything to do with me. However, the moral side of me and yes despite my profession I did still have some morals, tells me it’s the right thing to do. Oh to hell with it. I thought.
I sent a coded message over the internet, informing all my clients of my immediate retirement. This was going to piss off a lot of people, but they would just have to live with it. I began gathering all my assets, moving my money from the many banks abroad, and placing it into one off shore account. I sold all my stocks and shares; trying everything possible to distance myself from the seedy world, I was once part of. If I was going to be a proper father, the last thing I wanted was for this shit to come back and haunt me in a few years time, and more importantly, put my daughter's life at risk. I started preparing to collect my daughter from the authorities. I wanted to move from London into the country, this would make it harder for my old life to catch up with me. I chose a small village the other side of the country, on the coast of Cornwall. I looked into the best schools for my daughter and bought a modest sized house, there was no need for the local people to know how well off I am. This would only invite awkward questions later on.

******

The feeling of apprehension was alien to me. With all the jobs I had done in the past, I had never felt scared, nervous, or remorseful. Now on the eve of meeting my daughter I was feeling all of these. I left my room on my way to the care centre. Just as I entered the lift I heard the phone in my room ringing. I was just about to go and answer it when the lift door slid shut, forget it. I thought. As I arrived at the care centre, I could see two police cars in the car park; I got out of the taxi and asked the driver to wait for me. The building was very overbearing, Elizabethan looking, on three floors and painted white with black beams criss-crossing the frontage. At the entrance there was an intercom. I pressed the button.
“Hello how can I help you?” said a voice from within.

"I'm here to pick up my daughter."
"What is her name?"
"It's Claire; Claire Spader."
“You better come in,” she said.
I entered the building and went to the front desk. A middle-aged woman behind the desk and a young policewoman with a note book in her hand were both stood there staring at me

"Did you say you’re here for Claire Spader?" said the policewoman.

"Yes that's right, why, what's wrong?"

"I think you better follow me sir." That look on her face, I knew it. It was the look everyone makes when they are about to dish out bad news.

I followed her into a waiting room, where there was another police officer questioning a woman. The policewoman went over and whispered into the officers ear. He turned and looked at me. "Can you finish up here please constable," he said, then stood up and walked over to me.

"Can you take a seat and tell me your name please sir?"
I sat down. "My name is Jack Spader."

"Hello Mr. Spader, I am Inspector Evans of the Metropolitan police force. I'm afraid your daughter appears to have gone missing. We tried to phone you earlier but got no answer."

"Yes, the phone rang just as I left my hotel room. What do you mean gone missing, has she run away or what?"

"We are not sure at this moment in time; we are still questioning everyone who was in contact with her. Can you tell me please when you last spoke to your daughter?"

"I can't be specific, it's been a number of years. I have been dealing directly with the authorities, and was supposed to be collecting my daughter today to start a new life together, as her mother just died."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Well for the moment there isn't a lot you can do here, so what I need you to do now Mr. Spader is go back to your hotel room and wait; I promise we will be in touch once there are any new developments."

"And just how long do you expect me to sit around in my hotel room doing nothing?"

"I know it's hard, but there is the chance that your daughter may try to get in touch with you. That is why for the moment we need you to stay put, and I don't need to tell you that if you are contacted, you must get in touch with us right away." He held out his hand. "Here's my card, don't hesitate to call me day or night."

I took the card. "Now I suggest you go back to your hotel, and as I said we’ll be in touch.”

He stood up and walked over to the policewoman. I sat in a state of shock, thinking I have never felt so helpless and useless as I do now. I stood up and as if in a trance, found myself sitting in a taxi being driven through the busy streets of London, but hearing no sound at all.

On returning to my hotel room, I removed my jacket and lay back on the bed. I tried to conjure up images of Claire, only to find I held no memory of how her face looked. Jesus! What kind of father am I? I can't even remember what my own daughter looks like. I thought. I tried so hard to remember that I fell asleep, and woke up in the dark. I turned on the bedside lamp, sat up and was about to open a bottle of whisky when I saw an envelope that had been pushed under the door. I picked it up, typed on the front was my name, and inside was a note saying. If you want to see your daughter alive again, do not call the police. We will be in touch within the next twenty-four hours. I suggest you do not leave your room, as we will only call you once, there will be no second chances.


CHAPTER TWO

I sat on the bed looking at the note, trying to think who could be doing this. It had to be someone who had no intensions of allowing me to retire. But how in the hell did they know who I was and where I lived? I began racking my brains to come up with some kind of answer; the one thing I felt sure of was, it had to be one of my old clients, but which one?

The problem was, I'd never actually met any of my clients, part of the way we work was to ensure there was never any physical contact between the client and me. All correspondence was by coded messages over the internet. For the moment, all I could do was sit and wait for them to make the next move. The one thing I was sure of was not involving the police. Going off experience, the police always mean well, but getting them involved is like letting a bull lose in a china shop. They just don't have any idea how to handle these kind of people. The last thing the kidnappers were scared of was the police, the only thing these people understood was violence, the one thing I was very good at, and if I got the chance, I'd exact violence like these fuckers had never seen before.
No, I needed to handle this thing myself if I was going to expect any ounce of success. For the time being my hands were tied until these fuckers got in touch with me, and then hopefully I would have something to go on.

This was the first time I'd ever began to regret ever getting into this whole sordid business, up until now it had treated me well, especially financially. It was all beginning to fit into place; why I spent these last few years emotionally detached from all that should in any normal world, have really held some meaning to me. You just can't let feelings of this nature interfere, or you just can't function properly. At least that's how I used to think, however, now I was beginning to think that all that's just bullshit, something I picked up from some crazy action movie. Who in the hell did I think I was, Rambo or something? I felt like slapping myself in the face to try to bring myself back to reality.

For fuck sake, when are they going to call? This suspense is driving me up the wall, I felt like I was going to explode. I've lost count the number of times I’d paced up and down this frigging room. God, I hated not being in control of a situation, and used as someone else's puppet. As I waited for the dreaded phone call, I again tried to think about who was doing this act.

I still didn't understand how these people found out my identity and where I lived, it just didn't make any sense, I'd been more than careful with all my clients. As far as I knew I'd had no physical contact with any of them, I mean; I sure as hell didn't know who any of my clients were. The only thing that made any sense was that someone must have been watching me while I carried out one of my contracts. However, I never let any of my clients know when, where, or how I would carry out a contract.

Then it suddenly occurred to me that may be this was not one of my clients at all, and that it's just someone who knew what I did for a living. However, it's not as if I had an advertisement in the local paper, or registered my profession at the local job centre. It had to be someone who hangs around in the same circles, and was completely aware of how this business works. Shit! There had to be a way of finding out who this corporation was, someone had to at least have an idea who they might be. Suddenly the phone rang, I shot across the room and answered it.

"Hello, Jack Spader here."

"Hello Mr Spader, this is reception, will you be wanting your normal early call in the morning sir?”

I laid there in amazement, and laughed. "Are you kidding me? Not now,” and slammed the phone down.

Come on; what the hell are these people playing at, apart from trying to really wind me up. I jumped up off the bed grabbed my jacket and opened the door to my room; I was just about to walk out when I came to my senses. What in the hell am I doing, I thought. Shit, I slammed the door shut and hung my jacket on the back of the door, opened the fridge and took out another small bottle of Jack Daniels, poured it into a glass and knocked it straight back. I turned on the TV and began flicking through the stations, not even paying any attention as to what was on any of them.

I sat with both anger and anticipation for what seemed like hours, waiting for the dreaded phone call, my thoughts begun to sway towards my daughter. It had been five years since I last saw Claire. I don't even know if she will remember me, let alone recognise me. She was only five years old when I last saw her.

Suddenly the phone rang, I was so deep in thought it made me jump. My heart began beating so hard and fast, I felt sure they would be able to hear it on the other end of the phone. I leapt off the bed, grabbed the receiver. Even after all the missions I had carried out, I'd never felt as scared as I do now.

"Hello, who is this?" I asked.

"Is that Spader? Jack Spader?" said a deep voice.

"Yes, who are you?"

"You don't need to be concerned with that at this moment in time. Just listen."

"You Bastard! Where the fuck is my daughter?"

"Listen Mr. Spader, if you want to see your daughter again
I suggest you shut up and listen to what I have to say. We have a job we need you to carryout for us. If you do exactly as we ask, you will get your daughter back safely, and in one piece."

"I don't do that kind of work anymore."

"We know, that's why we felt you may need a little persuading. If you know what I mean?"

"If you harm one hair on her head I'll search for you all my life, and tear you apart."

"Look, you wouldn't even know where to start. So enough of this bullshit and listen to what I have to say."

"There is a package; a tan-coloured briefcase in the lost property department at Waterloo station. It has a label with your name on it. So, if you turn up with some form of ID you will be able to retrieve it. You will find all the information you require inside."

"How do I know for sure you are holding my daughter?"

"You will find evidence of that when you pick up the package."

"How can I get in touch with you?"

"Pick up the package, and everything will become a lot clearer. I look forward to hearing from you soon Mr.
Spader."

"Hang on, wait." The phone went dead.

The walls of the hotel room felt like they were closing in on me. Never in my whole life had I felt so helpless and alone. If there was ever a time I needed to have my shit together, it was now. I thought.

I left the hotel, hailed a taxi, and made my way to Waterloo station. The taxi driver was attempting to hold some kind of conversation with me, but my mind was elsewhere, and all I heard was a muffled voice mumbling in the background. The traffic as ever in London was nose to tail and going nowhere fast. The heat of the day was stifling; I could feel the sweat running down my back, saturating my shirt, all of which was compounding my feelings of anxiety.

"Don't you know a better route than this?" I asked.

"Sorry, but you couldn't have picked a worse time of the day to travel through the centre of the city."

"Fucking good job I'm not having a heart attack right now." I said

It took almost thirty minutes to reach the station. Once there I paid the driver and moved in to the station. It was teeming with people; I franticly searched for a sign that would lead me to the lost property department.

Looking across the station I could see a man in uniform stood next to a gate at the entrance to one of the platforms, he was clipping the tickets of the passengers as they passed through. Moving toward him, it seemed like everyone in the station was heading in every direction except mine, it was like trying to swim upstream. I finally managed to push my way through and quickly moved over to him, there were about eight people waiting in line.

"Excuse me; excuse me." I shouted over the top of the people in line.

"One moment please sir." He replied.

"No, you don't understand, I just want"-

"I know sir, everyone's in a rush, so if you wouldn't mind just joining the back of the queue."

Frustrated I turned around; scanning all over the station, looking for anything that might indicate the direction I needed to go. There are signs everywhere but I'm fucked if I can see anything that points to the lost property department. Where the hell is it.

Then suddenly I heard a voice from behind. "Excuse me sir. I'll take your ticket now."

I spun around. "What!"

"Your ticket, I'll take it now."

"Oh; no, I just wanted to know how to find the lost
property department."

"Oh, okay." He pointed. "Can you see the small cafe in the corner over there?"

My eyes followed his pointing finger. "Yes I see it."

"It's just to the right of that."

"Great, thanks."

I moved quickly, dodging the other commuters moving backward and forward in front of me, until I finally reached the desk. Stood behind the desk was an old portly man in a blue and red uniform.

"Hi there, I understand you may have a package belonging to me?"

"Can you describe it for me please sir?"

"Yes, it's a tan-coloured briefcase, and should have my name on it. Jack Spader."

"One moment please sir." He disappeared into the back of the office to search for the case. I took out a handkerchief and wiped away the sweat that was dripping profusely down my brow and neck. He returned two minutes later with the case in his hand.

He held it up in front of him. "Is this your case sir?"

"Yes, that's the one."

"Do you have some form of identification on you sir?"

"Yes, I have my driving licence if that's okay?" I handed it to him.

After quickly inspecting it, he handed it back to me. "That will be fine sir. If you could just sign this release form you can be on your way."

I signed the form grabbed the case and headed straight for the public toilets. Inside, there were five people using the urinals, but all of the cubicles were empty. I entered the cubicle next to the wall and locked myself in. Sitting on the toilet, I rested the case on my lap staring at it for a moment, thinking. What in the hell am I going to find that proves they really do have my daughter? I took a deep breath and slowly began to open the case. On looking inside, I could see a mobile phone, a paper file, and a small locket. I picked up the locket and undid the clasp. Inside I could see a picture of my wife. There was also an engraving on the back, a message saying. Happy birthday, my darling Claire. Feelings began to stir up inside of me, the like of which I hadn't felt since the day I watched Clair being born. My eyes began to lose focus as tears started to well up. I quickly wiped them on the sleeve of my jacket, and placed the locket in my pocket. Leaving the phone and file in the case, I closed it and headed back to my hotel room.

I took a shower to cool off; after wrapping a towel around myself, I sat on the bed staring at the case in front of me. I pulled it toward me and slowly lifted the lid. I removed the paper file and opened it up; the first thing I saw was a photograph. I recognised the face from somewhere but could not remember where. I put the photo on the bed and began to read the file. It told me the name of the person in the photo, and what they wanted doing. They had given me a deadline of one month to carry out the task. This was unusual; I am not usually given a deadline.

I picked up the mobile phone and turned it on and went straight to the menu and address book. There was only one number, I highlighted the number and pressed send. The phone began to ring and almost immediately stopped and went dead. I was just about to try again when the phone beeped and a message came up telling me I had a text message. Reading the message it said. "All we need to know is do you accept the task. Answer with a text saying yes or no." I picked up the photograph and stared into the face on it. Who is this person, and what has this person done to piss these people off. I thought.
Then I looked at the locket on the bedside table, shit, it wasn't as if I had any choice in the matter. I typed yes into the phone and pressed send. A couple of seconds later the phone beeped again, I looked at the message, which read. "Your month starts now. The number in your phone will now become obsolete." They're obviously using the one phone one-message method. A pre-paid phone they will discard, making it almost impossible for me to trace their phone. I put the phone down laid back and stared at the plaster rose on the ceiling, until the white of the ceiling grew darker as my eyes slowly began to close.

I woke some hours later; moved over to the window and opened the curtains to see it was dark. Eight floors up I had a great view of the city, which was lit up beautifully, with the streetlights and car headlamps reflecting off the rippling water of the Thames River below. I decided to get dressed, head to a local pub for a drink, and try to think how I was going to carry out this job. I also needed to find a way of figuring out who these people are holding my daughter, and where they are keeping her.

The pub was quite packed, but it was a warm evening, but I knew they had a beer garden out the back, so I chose to sit outside. Although all the tables were full, there was plenty of room on the wall surrounding the garden, which overlooked a canal below. I chose a spot far away from the other customers, and loud music coming from inside the bar. Sitting on the wall I took a sip from my pint of lager, then looked down at my reflection in the canal below. Now, how am I going to be able to find out whom these bastards are? I thought.

I need to go and see a friend; Spud. He was still in touch with the old boy network, and more importantly, he could be trusted. We served together in the SAS, and were in the same team at one stage. After we left the regiment, he went on to work for a security company who had a very reputable clientele. The work he does for this company allows him to have his fingers in many pies when it comes to the international security business. I was sure that once he knew the situation I was in; he would do all he could to help me out. My other problem was to find out exactly who the person in the photo is. I was still unable to figure out where I had seen this person before. Maybe Spud would be able to help with this too. I thought. I finished my drink, took out my mobile phone, keyed up Spuds number, and gave him a call. It began to ring, then I heard a voice.

"Jack, is that you?"

"Yes, Spud, how the devil are you?"

"Jesus, I haven't heard from you in- God, I don't know how long."

"I know, I've been meaning to give you a call, but, well, you know how it is. One thing leads to another, and before you know it, five years have passed."

"I know what you're saying. So, what can I do you for buddy?"

"I really need to see you. I'm in a bit of a sticky situation, and I think you may have the info I need to help me out. I can't really say any more over the phone, so what do you say?"

"Okay, come to my office tomorrow morning, and I'll see what I can do for you."

"Great, are you still in the same building?"

"Yes, but I've got a bigger office now."

"Oh, gone up in the world have you?"

"Something like that. So, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Great, I'm looking forward to it. Bye mate."

I had one more drink and then head back to my room. I wanted to have a clear head for the meeting with Spud tomorrow.

******

Getting out of the taxi I looked up at the tall metal and glass skyscraper. Written above the rotating door painted in gold are the words, Global Securities. I entered the building and made my way to the front desk. Behind the desk sat a middle-aged woman with long blond hair, wearing a black jacket and skirt, with a white blouse.

"Hello sir, how can I help you?"

"I have an appointment with"- it suddenly hit me, I
don't know Spud's proper name. A smile appeared on my face. "I'm sorry, this is a little embarrassing. I don't really know his proper name. We served together in the army, so I only know his nick-name."

She looked at me with suspicion. "Okay. So, what is his nick-name?"

"Spud. His names Spud."

"Ah, that will be Mr. Davies." She leaned forward on the desk and whispered. "Please, enlighten me. Why is he called Spud?"

I leaned forward and whispered in her ear. Her perfume was overbearing. "I'm sorry, but I can't really tell you, he was known as Spud when I first met him."

She pulled back and with a look of disgust, pulled down on the bottom of her jacket to straighten herself out. "If you would like to take a seat over there, I'll see if Mr. Davies is free to see you."

It was only a couple of minutes before Spud came strutting out of the lift, dressed in a blue pinstriped suit, bursting at the seams due to his muscular frame. He still had a number one haircut, except now he was sporting a goatee beard.

He came charging over with his hand held out. "Jack, it's good to see you mate."

I shook his hand and we gave each other a slap on the back. "You too buddy."

"Come; let's go up to my office."

We entered the lift and waited for the doors to slide shut. "It's silly really, but it wasn't until I got to the front desk that I realised I didn't know your proper name. So I'm afraid I let out your nick-name to the women at the desk."

He smiled. "That's no problem. I'm sure it's not the first time she's heard it."

"Well, she did seem to know who I was talking about."

"So, how has life been treating you Jack?"

"Well up until now, pretty good."

"I heard you had gone into the elimination business."

How the hell does he know that? "Something like that, yes."

The lift stopped on the tenth floor and the doors opened. "Ah, here we are, just follow me."

The lift led onto a long corridor with many offices leading off. The whole floor appeared to be a bustle of activity, with people rushing passed each other. We continued along the corridor until we reached the end.

"Here we are. Please Jack come in and take a seat. Would you like a drink?"

"No thanks."

His office was around the size of my hotel room, and dominated by a large mahogany desk in front of a big plate glass window. The view over the city was amazing.

"You weren't kidding me, when you told me your office was a little bigger than your last one. You got promoted, I take it?"

"Not quite. I'm a partner in the firm now."

I sat down. "Wow, congratulations."

Spud removed his jacket hanging it on the back of his big leather swivel chair, and sat down. "Thanks, but enough about me. You sounded a little concerned on the phone last night?"

"I have a big problem. I don't know if you heard, but Jackie died just a few weeks ago in a car crash, and Claire our daughter was taken into foster care."

"Jesus, I'm sorry Jack, but, weren't you two divorced"


"Yes we were, but as soon as I heard about her death, I decided to give up my work and take care of Claire."

"So, what's the problem?"

"Well, yesterday I received a phone call from some group saying they want me to carry out a job for them. I tried to tell them I had retired; however, they informed me they had kidnapped Claire and if I didn't do as they asked. Well, you can figure out the rest."

"Fuck! Do you have proof they are actually holding her?"
I took the locket out of my Jacket pocket and gave it to Spud. He looked at it then handed it back to me. "So how did they get this to you?"

I picked the case up off the floor next to me. "It came in this case which was left for me at the lost luggage department in Waterloo station."

"Have you told the police?"

"The police know, but I'm not going to rely on those idiots."

"I know what you're saying. What else is in there?"

"There's a mobile phone, and a file on the mark."

"So, who's the mark?"

Handing him the file. "I'm not quite sure, but I seem to recognise the face."

He opened the file and began reading it. "The name rings a bell. Oh, they've given you a deadline. Is that normal?"

"No. Not really."

He took out the photo, leaned forward and his face suddenly turned ashen. "Fuck in hell! No wonder you recognise the face. He smirked. "Now I know why you've been given a deadline."

"Why?"

"Shit Jack! Do you know who this person is?"

Frustrated, I stood up. "Obviously not, so who the fuck is it?"

"Jack my boy; you are definitely not going to like this."

"For fuck sake Spud, stop playing silly games and tell me who she is."


CHAPTER THREE

Spud stood up went over to the windows overlooking the other offices and closed the blinds.

"This, my dear Jack is none other than Rebecca Sykes, the head of MI6."

"Shit! MI6, I have never been given a contract this big," I sat back down and slumped back into my seat. "So; why the deadline?" I asked.

Spud sat down behind his desk. "She is due to give a press conference in a month's time, and rumours have it she is going to blow the whistle on some big corporation."

"Blow the whistle; on what?"

"She claims to have evidence proving that this corporation has been funding terrorism, and selling arms." Spud held up the file, "and obviously these people don't want her to make it to that conference."

“But killing her is only going to delay the inevitable.” I said.

“Maybe that’s all they need. More time.”

Who are they? I thought. "So does anyone know who this corporation is?"

"No, that information is being kept top secret. It's thought that this corporation is so big if word was to get out too early, it could send big waves through the stock exchange and some markets could begin to tumble before the government has time to step in and shore them up."

I Leaned forward with my head in my hands. "Fuck! So how in the hell am I going to find out who these bastards are?"

"Look Jack, let me have a snoop around and see what I can come up with. I can't promise anything, I mean we're talking MI6 here, trying to get info about these guys; well, I might as well try breaking into the Royal Mint."

"I know, but anything you can find will be really appreciated."

"Hey, if I can't help out an old army buddy, then I wouldn't be much of a friend, would I?"

I stood up and shook his hand. "Cheers Spud, I can't thank you enough."

"No problem, I have your number and will be in touch as soon as I get something Okay?"

"Okay, and thanks again. I turned and left his office for my hotel. I need to go through my computer records; this has to be one of my clients, so there has to be a clue in there somewhere.

Sitting on the bed I had been going through all the records on my laptop for what must have been hours, searching for anything that could lead me to these bastards, but to no avail. I picked up a glass half full of whisky from the bedside table, swigged it back, and threw the glass across the room hitting the door with a smash. I fell back onto the pillow covering my face with my hands. God! There has to be a way of finding these fuckers.

I moved over to the window, looked out, and watched the suns reflection shimmering on the water below. The alternative was just too much to contemplate, killing the head of MI6. Nevertheless, I have to be realistic; because that's exactly what it might come down to, if I want to see Claire alive again. With only a month to play with, I need to formulate a plan for the contract, while also trying to locate the kidnappers and free Claire; this is a race against time with no clear favourite. I thought.

I can't do anything about finding Claire until I get an update from Spud, so I need to use the time to start planning for the contract. I know that the mark works out of the MI6 building in Vauxhall Cross, but no idea where the press conference is going to be held. I know there is no way I will be able to do anything near the MI6 building, that place has more surveillance than the White House. Therefore, I need to look at the likely route the mark will take, or in and around the area of the conference. However, there may be an opportunity to take her out before the day of the conference. It's time to start tailing the mark, and try to establish some kind of routine. I thought. I don't know her home address, so I will have to try and pick her up leaving the MI6 building.

I left the hotel got into my Range Rover and headed for the arch lock up in southeast London to pick up some surveillance equipment. Entering the lock up I turned on the light, the old brickwork of the original arch reflected its one time use as a thoroughfare allowing people to pass through under the original bridge that still stands above. This is in complete contrast to the new brick used to block up one end of the arch, and the metal gate I had fixed to the other end for security. I went over to the metal racks where all my equipment is stored; I chose a pair of binoculars, a set of night vision goggles, a thermal imager, and a camera with a long-range lens.

In the middle of the lock up, I knelt down and moving a large wooden panel covered in sawdust from the floor revealed a thick metal door. I keyed a number into the combination lock, lifted the door, and walked down the metal staircase. I hit the light switch revealing an array of weapons, both on the walls and on metal racks all around me. I picked up my trusted Glock 9mm pistol checked it was loaded, and placed it down the back of my jeans; turned out the light and locked up the armoury. I packed all the gear into a small rucksack locked the gate, got back into my car, and headed back to the hotel.

In my room, I fired up my laptop and opened the Google Earth programme. I find this to be a very useful tool went it comes to choosing a spot from where I can overlook a specific area. I typed in MI6 building London and within a minute, a perfect satellite picture of the whole area around the building, along with a computer generated 3D image of the building appeared. However, from this information I can see straight away that trying to overlook this place is going to be a waste of time, I need to see people entering and leaving the building, unfortunately the car park area is underground and I will never be able to tell who is coming and going. Especially as most of the people of any importance, use cars with tinted windows; Shit! I need to come up with a different plan. I thought.

No matter how much I thought, I couldn't come up with any plan other than hitting the target on the day of the conference. Because of her high profile and the fact, she is MI6 made it impossible to gain any form of information on her, and therefore tracking her whereabouts at any given time, would be impossible. Having accepted the hit would have to be on the day of the conference, I needed to know ASAP where the conference is taking place. I decided to give Spud a call, he probably won't have any info on the kidnappers yet, but should be able to tell me the location and hopefully the time of the conference.

I telephoned his mobile but it was switched off, so I called his office, a woman answered,

"Hello, you have reached Global Securities, how can I help you?"

"Hi, my name is Mr. Spader. Can you put me through to Mr. Davies please?"

"One moment please Sir." The phone went quiet, and then music began to play.

Suddenly the music stopped. "Hello, Jack, it's Spud;
I'm going to need a little more time before my sources get back to me with any info I'm afraid."

"Hi Spud. I understand that; No, I'm phoning to see if you have any idea where and when Rebecca Sykes is holding her conference?"

"Sure, it's at the Savoy hotel, at 1400 hours on the 30th. Is that where you plan to do the job?"

"I'm not exactly sure yet, but thanks for the info."

"No problem, like I said I'll be in touch as soon as I know anything, Okay?"

"Okay, thanks, chat to you soon, bye mate."

Putting the phone down I immediately went to Google Earth on my laptop. I typed in Savoy hotel London. Again, within a minute I had a clear satellite image of the whole area around the Savoy. The entrance to the Savoy is at the bottom of a short hill and surrounded by the building itself, which meant that the entrance could only be seen from the North. Looking at the image, I could see that the Strand Palace Hotel looked to have a direct line of sight down Savoy Court and onto the Savoy's entrance, and was only 100 meters away, the ideal distance for a sniper rifle. I closed down my laptop, grabbed my gear, and headed downstairs to hail a taxi. I try never to use my own car to carry out a recce, there are so many security cameras dotted all around London that it is inevitable one of them will catch sight of my number plate.

I entered the hotel and asked the girl at the front desk if it would be possible to look at a corner room overlooking the Strand, with a view to reserving it later. She agreed and called for a pageboy who took me to an unoccupied room. On entering, I was amazed at how bright the room was, compared to the one I am living in now. I ignored the layout of the room and walked immediately over to the window; pulling back the curtains I saw I had a clear view of the entrance to the Savoy. I gave the pageboy a tip and headed back to the foyer. At the front desk, I thanked the girl and informed her I would be in touch. This for now was just another option; I didn't want to commit myself just yet by booking the room there and then.

The problem with this idea is, trying to hit the target as she enters the building leaves a very small window of opportunity, and if anything goes wrong, it will be too late to do anything about it. However, I still have to count it as an option; but for me this has to be a last resort. Back at my room, I tried to see if I could come up with some other more viable options. Sitting on the bed racking my brains for an idea, but my mind just wouldn't focus. Shit! I don't want to kill this woman, she's fighting for this country just as I did throughout my whole military career. I know I don't have high moral standards, but Jesus, I have to know where to draw the line. I thought.

******

Two days later, I was again going through my laptop looking for clues to who might be doing this, when I received a phone call from Spud.

"Hi Jack, how's it going?"

"Not good." I replied.

"Really, what seems to be the problem?"

"Well, apart from the fact I still have no idea who is doing this shit, and I'm beginning to develop a conscience, I'm fine."

"What do you mean developing a conscience?"

"I mean, I'm not quite sure killing this Rebecca Sykes is a good idea."

"Well, I phoned to let you know that as much as I tried, I could not come up with any real info that would be of any great help to you. I'm sorry Jack, but like I said she is MI6 and as far as those guys go, it's a closed book. I'm sorry mate."

"No problem, I understand, but it didn't stop me from getting my hopes up."

"I know; look Jack, if I can be of any help at all, please don't hesitate to give me a call, no matter what, I'm here if you need me, Okay."

"I know, and thanks, if I need you I'll call, I promise."

"Seems to me, the way things stand at the moment, you only have one option."

"I know; I don't like it, but what else can I do?"

"Not a lot I'm afraid, buddy. But hay; please keep me up to date on events, Okay?"

"Sure, thanks anyway Spud, for all your help and I'll speak to you later, Okay?"

"Okay buddy, take care."

"You too, bye." I put the phone down and began to pour a whisky. Fuck! This is going from bad to worse. If I ever needed a break, it was now. I thought.

Just then, the phone rang again. "Hello, Jack Spader here."

"Hello, Mr Spader. This is Inspector Evans; I'm phoning to see if you have been contacted by anyone, anyone at all?"

Shit this is all I need. "No why? What have you found out?"

"Well not a lot really I'm afraid. We are now treating this as a possible kidnapping, to that end I am sending a Constable over to ask you a few questions, to try and determine who might have a reason for doing this."

"I don't see how I’m going to be able to help you Inspector."

"You will be surprised what a little information can do to help an investigation."

"Okay, when can I expect a visit?"

"I can have someone round within the hour if that's convenient?"

"Within the hour, well- Okay, I can hang on till then Inspector."

"That's great, and Mr Spader, remember if anyone contacts you I need you to inform me straight away, Okay?"

"Fine, I will; bye for now Inspector." I put down the phone and began hiding all the material I had spread all over my bed, before the Constable arrived. As far as I am concerned, the police are just a fly in the ointment, but I need to keep up the pretence, otherwise, they will just end up getting in my way, and I don't need any more agro at this moment in time, I have enough on my plate already.

The Constable arrived; he was a young man in his twenties and carried his helmet under his arm. He didn't look like he'd been on the force for very long. I gestured him into the room and offered him the seat near the window. He placed his helmet on the table under the window, then sat down and took a notebook and pencil out of his breast pocket.

"Hello Mr Spader, I am Constable David Williams."

"Hi, would you like a drink, or anything?"

"No thanks I'm fine. I just need to ask a few questions and then I'll be on my way. I can imagine you are quite upset over this matter, and I assure you we are doing all we can to sort this sordid mess out."

"Like I said to your Inspector on the Phone, I don't really know what I can tell you, I mean, I haven't seen or even spoken to my daughter in five years."

"So I have been led to believe, however, I still need to clear up a few things. Is this hotel your permanent residence, or do you have a more permanent address?"

"Well it was, but I bought a place in Cornwall for me and my daughter."

"Okay and you know of no one who would have any reason to carry out this act?"

"You mean kidnapping? Assuming that's what has happened, no I don't."

"There is still the possibility that this could have something to do with your ex wife, and the persons involved are not aware of her recent demise. I take it you haven't had any recent contact with her either?"

"That's right." He asked me a few more what I regarded as irrelevant questions.

"Okay I think that will be all for now sir. We will obviously be in touch as soon as we hear anything, he stood up, placed his notebook back in his pocket, and picked up his helmet, and I'm sure I don't need to remind you to inform us the second anyone makes contact with you."

We both headed for the door. "Of course not, and thanks for your time and concern."

"No problem, it's my job, thank you for your time and I promise we will get these people."

We shook hands. "I hope so." I said. Then he left.

Hopefully now they will leave me alone for a while, and allow me to get on with what I need to do. I wanted to get a look at the conference room at the Savoy; this would give me a number of other options. I could plant a remote device, and overlooking the target with CCTV, detonate it from a distance. On the other hand, I could mingle in the crowd or find a place within the room from where I could carry out a silent kill.

The only problem with being in the same room is the getaway, which would mean the use of a disguise, due to the high probability of being seen. After searching the internet for any info on the Savoy hotel, I soon discover there are six conference rooms. Therefore, I need to find out which one they are going to use, and carry out a CTR (Close target recce).

I began formulating one of the many fake IDs I have set up on my laptop; figuring I could disguised myself as a member of the press, sent in to have a look at the conference room in order to establish what equipment we need for the setup on the day.

Having convinced the girl on the desk of who I was, a pageboy led me to the conference room. I had to use my imagination to think how the room will be set up; it was obvious the dais would be placed on the small stage at the front, with the press seated in front of that. The seating arrangement would already be set, so the chance of me getting a front row seat was not an option. I scanned the room for somewhere I could stand and be inconspicuous, I searched around the back of the stage and found to one side behind a large drape was a door, it was locked but I soon managed to pick it. Behind the door was a small storeroom full of all sorts of equipment used for setting up a conference.

After fighting my way through the equipment, I found what I was looking for, a window, just big enough for a man to climb through. However, it’s protected with iron bars, which I’ll need to deal with closer to the time. I opened the window slightly, tied a piece of blue string to one of the bars, and let it hang outside the window. This would allow me to recognise the window later on when I come to fix the bars. I locked the storeroom door, took out my digital camera, and began taking photographs of the whole conference room, for future reference.

Pleased with how the CTR went I left the hotel and decided to go to a restaurant for a meal and a bottle of nice red wine. After drinking two bottles of wine, I began to feel quite drunk, and so went in search of a nightclub. I found myself seduced by the bright lights and erotic atmosphere of Soho, and so entered the nearest titty bar in search of more alcohol and hopefully a sexy chic. All seemed to be going great until I payed for a lap dance, and found I couldn't keep my hands off the girl. The next thing I know, I'm being dragged out by what looks like two gorillas wearing black suits and bow ties. All of a sudden, I feel the pain of my hands scraping the concrete floor as I hit the street landing face down in the gutter and then hearing the words "and don't come back."

Some chick who asks me where I live helps me up. Then I must have dozed off for a while, because the next thing I know she is asking me if I have any money to pay the taxi. She helps me to my room; I collapse onto the bed and then feel her undressing me, I close my eyes in anticipation of the night's events.

When I open my eyes the bright sunlight coming through the window blinds me. I try to sit up, but my head feels like a grenade has just gone off inside it. My head drops back onto the pillow, as I search for the memory of the night before. I vaguely remember a girl, but I have no recollection of what she looked like, or what she was wearing. I lifted my head again to see I am wearing only my boxer shorts and a pair of black socks. I think that is conclusive proof to the fact I sure as hell didn't get a fuck last night. I swung my body round and placed my feet onto the carpet, then looking over to the table under the window I can see my wallet, which is open.

Oh, shit! I staggered over picked it up, and looked inside to find all my money had gone, however, she had at least left the credit cards. What a prick. I thought, how in the hell did I let myself get into this situation again. I swore to myself that I’d given up that kind of life, after the split from my wife. Shit, not the most professional way to finish off a CTR. It must be all this stress getting to me.
I looked over at the table, at least I still had my digital camera, thank fuck. I need to keep my head screwed on if I don't want to fuck this thing up, I've never felt pressure like I do now. All these new emotions I'm feeling right now are really messing with my normal thought process; I just don't seem to be able to think straight or in any logical manner. I need to try to stay emotionally detached, it's the only way I'm going to keep a grip on myself and stay focused.

A cold shower soon woke me up; before I downloaded the photos I had taken during the CTR onto my laptop. Well I have the layout of the room; I have the target, and I have the time and date of the conference. The only thing I don't have, is the method I'm going to use to kill this person. I went down to the hotel restaurant for some breakfast; would be able to think a lot clearer if I have some food and coffee inside of me. I thought.

In the restaurant, I began to mull over all my previous contracts, to maybe come up with an idea I had used before that would fit into this scenario. I found that a number of previous ideas could easily be used on this job, however, although the methods were sound, they didn't allow for the kind of escape I will need to execute on this job. Jesus, there is nothing worse than trying to out-spook a spook. I thought.


CHAPTER FOUR

Back in my room, the first idea that comes to me, is to use my trusty Glock 9mm with a silencer and fire from behind the curtains on the stage. The problem with this idea is; a shot is instantaneous, the window in the storeroom is quite small, and would take some time to climb through. Therefore, it wouldn't take long for someone to realise where the shot had come from and be hot on my heals.

My next idea calls for the use of some sophisticated equipment, and chemicals. I knew there would be a number of press microphones attached to the top of the dais, so one more wouldn't make a difference. I could fill it with a highly toxic gas then release it remotely from a distance, or on a timer.

My last idea and by far my favourite, is to use a dart gun that can fire all manners of different darts, and best of all, its ultra silent. There would be no blood, so it would take some time before someone managed to figure out what had happened, by which time I will be long gone. I decided to go along with the dart gun, containing a paralyzing drug that finally stops all muscles working, including internal organs. I already had a good stock of this in my armoury, so wouldn't need to scour the Internet, or black market for some.

I was feeling really pleased with myself, and thought I had it all worked out and had begun pouring myself a whisky, when I had a flash back, although it wasn't a flash back, because it hadn't happened yet. I had a vision of the mark collapsing onto the stage as my dart did its business. Except as she drops, I see a set of papers still sitting on the dais, obviously her speech. It occurs to me that somewhere within that speech will be the name of the corporation, and the press, who everyone knows to have no morals, will be onto it like flies onto shit, wanting to be the first to break the news. Thus, turning all my efforts into a complete waste of time. Shit! Why can nothing be simple? I thought.

How in the hell am I going to get around this one? This little dilemma is going to be harder to overcome than the assassination itself. I need to figure out a way to destroy the speech, and to have it happen simultaneously with the firing of the dart gun. I am going to need a small incendiary device that I can detonate remotely. It will have to be already set up on the top of the dais, and be inconspicuous.

After studying the photos I had taken on the CTR, I decided to build a false top for the dais. I designed a square piece of wood that mimicked the original top, with a paper-thin layer of wood laminate in the middle containing a flammable material. It would also have a small battery, and a receiver that would allow me to activate it remotely. The battery will produce just enough power to create a spark, which is all it will take to ignite the flammable material, and hopefully, send the speech up in flames.

This will also cause a good distraction and allow me more time for my escape. With the Mark collapsed on the floor and people rushing to help her, and others busy trying to put out the flames on the dais, they will be too busy to even think of looking in the storeroom, at least not straight away.

Having finally come up with what I consider the perfect plan, I can now concentrate on trying to find out who this corporation is, and where they are keeping Clair. If I can manage to do this, then maybe I can come up with a way to rescue her and at the same time save Rebecca Sykes from an untimely death. But, where in the hell do I start? I thought.

If a mate like Spud in his position couldn't find out any information, what bloody chance have I got? It was a nice day, so I decided to take a good long walk beside the Thames, to try to clear my head. The river was surprisingly rough for such a nice day, which made for a strong smell, and when I closed my eyes, it made me feel like I was on a beach. Just like the beach at Cornwall, which I had planned for Clair and me.

That all seemed like a lifetime away now. If only I had spent more time with Clair, then maybe I would have given this business up a long time ago, and then neither of us would be in this mess now. If only, if only; there is no point thinking in retrospect, it isn't going to get me anywhere. I am what I am, and I can't change that now, I can only try and make amends with Clair once I have her back safe with me, and we are both as far away from this sordid business as humanly possible.

I looked up and found myself standing at the London eye landmark. I bought a ticket and boarded an empty car. I moved over to one of the large windows and stood there with hands in pockets, waiting for the slow moving wheel to make its way up. No one else entered the car, which suited me; I really didn't need the sound of squabbling kids at this moment in time.

The solitude felt good as the car slowly made it halfway toward the ultimate view of London city that loomed at the top. Once there I looked down, and scanned 360 degrees, taking in the enormity of it all. Somewhere out there was Clair, locked away and frightened, wondering what was to become of her.

I walked a circle around the car in some vain hope of catching a glimpse of her amongst the many thousands of ant-sized people below. I had completely forgotten the fact I hadn't seen her in five years, so wouldn't even know what she looks like. FUCK! I shouted at the top of my voice, while kicking the wooden seat situated in the centre of the car. I quickly looked all around, feeling sure someone must have seen or heard me.

Back on terra firma I calmed down, then a silly idea suddenly crept into my head. Except, it didn't seem that silly after all, but quite the opposite. It was certainly unorthodox; however, I was desperate, and beginning to think, that this was the only way possible for me to get the information I needed. I sat at a table outside a cafe in Covent Garden and ordered a cup of coffee, and began mulling over the idea, weighing up the pros and cons.

I will need to be very clever, and convincing. Which means I need to invent one hell of a story, if I don't want to give the game away. This is not going to be easy, I thought. The girl brought out my coffee; I leaned back in my chair and lit up a cigarette; taking a long puff, I watched as a circle of people stood looking at a young white man sporting dreadlock hair, with an upturned cap at his feet, standing in the middle of the street, juggling five small blue and red balls. I do love Covent Garden; If only Clair was here with me now, it would make for the perfect day. I thought.

******

Having finally concocted what I hoped would be the ideal story; I left my hotel room and hailed a taxi. Moving through the busy streets, I kept going over the story in head trying to ensure I had it straight in my mind before reaching my destination. One slip up and I will be sussed in a heartbeat. I'm not even sure that this person will see me, let alone listen to my story; I need to be as convincing as I can, which means I need to act like one cool customer. This is like a Christian volunteering to enter an arena full of lions. I thought.

Even when I've had to carry out a contract that involved getting really close up to the target; I've never been as nervous as I feel now. Somebody's life depends on what happens in the next few hours, either Clair's, or Rebecca Sykes. If I give the game away, then I will be unable to carry out the contract, which means, if I can't find out where Clair is before the deadline; she's dead. I began to wish the journey in the taxi would never end. Now I know how a condemned man in the nineteenth century on his journey to the hangman's noose must have felt. I thought.

My thoughts were broken as the taxi driver began a conversation. "It's a hot one," he said .

"Yes, looks like we're in for a good summer," I replied .

"It's not very often I get a fare to where you're going, do you work there?"

"No, I've just got some business there, that's all."

He put his finger to his lips. "Oh, right, can't say hay?"

I smiled. "Yeh; something like that," I said .

"Say no more, my lips are sealed," he said , and laughed.

We crossed Waterloo Bridge from the north to the south, and turned right heading west along York road, until we reached Westminster Bridge. We continued alongside the Tames River onto Lambeth Palace road, past Lambeth Bridge, and then onto the Albert Embankment, which would lead me to my final destination. I could see the top of the building up ahead, you can't miss it really, it's one of the largest buildings in Vauxhall and sits right on the bank of the Thames. As it loomed ever closer my heart began racing, I quickly went through the story in my head one more time, just to be sure.

We pulled up to the entrance. "Okay, here we are."

I leant forward to look at the meter, which read ?2:65. I gave the driver ?3:00. "Keep the change."

"Thanks Guv," he said , as I stepped out of the taxi.

I took a deep breath and headed through the main door into a foyer. In the centre of the foyer is a large desk with a security guard sat behind, as I got closer I could see he was surrounded by monitors, which are obviously linked to all the CCTV cameras outside.

"Hello sir, how can I help you?" he asked .

"Hi, I would like if possible to speak with the head of department."

He looked at me suspiciously, and franticly began searching through some paperwork. "Do you have an appointment sir?"

"No, I'm afraid not, but_"

He interrupted. "I'm sorry sir, but you can't just walk in here and expect to see the director without an appointment."

"I understand that, however, I think if she knows why I'm here, she may spare me a few minutes of her time. All I ask is that you please call her up and allow me to speak to her"

"I don't know, this is highly irregular, and could get me a severe reprimand."

"Believe me, she will definitely want hear what I have to say."

He shook his head and picked up the phone. "I don't know about this. Okay, what's your name?"

"It's Jack Spader. You won't regret this, I promise you."

"Hello Ma’am, this is security at the front desk. I'm sorry to disturb you, but I have a Mr Jack Spader here, he doesn't have an appointment, but says he has some information you will be really interested in-" He handed the phone over to me. "Seems you're in luck."

I took the phone. "Hello Ma’am, you don't know me, but I have some important information with reference to your up and coming press conference."

"In what way?" she asked .

"Well, let me just say, it could be life threatening."
“In my business it usually is Mr Spader.”
“Yes I know, but the life I’m talking about is yours.”
The security guard gave me a look of amazement.

"In that case you better come up. Can you please hand me back over to the security guard?"

"Certainly, and thank you." I handed the phone back over. "She wants to speak with you."

"I understand, of course Ma’am, no problem," he said and put the phone down. "Okay, if you can please take a seat, another security officer will be here in a moment to take you up."

"That's great thanks."

I sat down and let out a deep breath. So far, so good. I thought.

The security guard turned up, he called me forward, and asked me to pass through a metal detector situated to the side of the reception desk. Once through the guard gave me a quick pat down, handed me a temporary pass to attach to my jacket, and told me to follow him. We headed towards some lifts; we waited for the doors to open, and then stepped inside. He pressed a button marked D and the lift started slowly moving up.

From the entrance to the lift, it soon became apparent that there was no part of this building that wasn't covered by CCTV. It took a couple of minutes to reach the floor we wanted, so I figured we must be very near, if not at the top of the building. The doors opened, and again the guard told me to follow him. Once out of the lift, I found myself in a long corridor, looking to the left, the corridor led to a dead end, nothing but a wall. To the right it leads to a wooden door; as we walked toward the door I see there is one more door off to the side, I figured that would lead to the stairs in the case of an emergency.

When we reached the end of the corridor, the guard knocked on the door and waited for an answer.

"Come in," said a voice from within.

The guard opened the door and stepped inside. "This is
Mr. Spader, Ma’am."

Still standing in the corridor, I heard the voice again. "Okay, can you show him in please?"

"Certainly, Ma’am," he said. He pushed the door fully open and gestured me inside, "You can go in now sir."

"Thank you," I said, and moved into the office. At the same time the guard left the room and closed the door behind me.

The office was enormous, it had large floor to ceiling plate glass windows covering all one side of the office, with a fantastic view of the Thames River below. The remaining walls consist of polished wood panelling, and adorned with a number of large pieces of what looks like very expensive artwork. Rebecca is sitting in a big leather swivel chair, behind a very large mahogany desk, wearing a black jacket and skirt, with a white open necked blouse. Her light brown hair is pulled up into a small bun, and the metal-rimmed glasses she is wearing completes the ensemble.

"Please, take a seat Mr. Spader, I must inform you I am a busy women, so if you wouldn't mind getting to the point please."

I sat down in one of the two leather armchairs in front of her desk. I rubbed the arms of the chair whilst scanning around the office. "Yes sure, you have to excuse me for a moment, I just can't believe I'm sitting in an office with the head of MI6."

"Please Mr. Spader, we haven't gone by that designation since the second world war."

I looked at her surprised. "Oh! Really, so what do you call yourselves these days?"

We are known as the SIS, which before you ask, stands for Secret Intelligence Service."

I leant forward. "Okay, so, if you are known as the SIS, what do they call MI5 now?"

"They are called the Security Service. I'm surprised you are not up to date on all this, I mean we have our own websites now; we even actively advertise and recruit agents through our websites."

I leaned back and smiled. "You're kidding me; really, recruiting on the Internet. Well, I've heard it all now."

"Like I said Mr. Spader I'm a very busy woman, so, if you wouldn't mind telling me what this is all about."

I sat up straight. Well, is it Miss or Mrs. Sykes?"

“ You can call me Miss Sykes."

"Okay, Miss Sykes, it's like this."

I rattled off my story which she swallowed hook line and sinker, hoping this would convince her to cancel, or at least postpone the conference and give me some added precious time. However, she was not in the least bit concerned that someone was out to kill her, which left me completely stunned. The conference is to go ahead as planned. This leaves me with no alternative now. Find Clair soon or do the job. She did impart some information to me though, which put a whole new light on the situation. However, I was sworn to secrecy so had to play it very close to my chest. In a daze, I must have asked the security guard to order me a taxi, because there was one waiting for me when I got outside. I gave him my address then sank back into my seat, and watch as the city buildings flash by the side window in a hazy blur.

Once back in my hotel room I threw my jacket onto the bed, and immediately opened a small bottle of Jack Daniels, poured it into a glass, sat on the end of my bed and
swigged it back in one gulp. I laid back and let the glass drop to the floor.


CHAPTER FIVE

After the meeting with Rebecca Sykes, I was even more convinced that the contract would go as planned. However, now, I decided I would try to employ the help of Spud. I know he was always prepared to kill in our army days, but I have no idea if he has the stomach for my line of work. Still, it wasn't as if I was going to ask him to pull the trigger, I just want him to give me an extra pair of hands, to make the task a little easier. I gave Spud a call and arranged a meeting in my local pub. I didn't say what it was about, I want to ask him face to face.

******

I made sure I was at the pub a good half hour before, to ensure I got us an empty table in a quiet area of the beer garden. It’s a sunny morning, so the cold lager I have tastes good. By the time Spud arrives, I am on my second pint, and when I see him, I tell him to grab a pint before he sits down. He comes back with what looks like a pint of Guinness, and sits opposite me.

'God, do you like that shit?' I ask.

'Too right, you can't beat it.'

'Each to their own, I suppose.'

'So, what's this all about then?'

I quickly looked around to ensure no one was listening; I then leant forward towards him. 'Well, it's about this job I have to do.' I gave another quick look around. 'I was wondering if you would be prepared to help me out?'

He sat up straight with a confused look on his face. 'Help you out? In what way?'

'I have it all planned out, the problem is, in order for my escape to go smoothly, I need a second pair of hands.'

He leant forward. 'Let me get this straight; you want me to assassinate someone, yes?'

'No, you won't need to kill anyone. I will be doing the killing; all you need to do is press a button, that's all.' I smiled and took a big swig of my lager.
Spud quickly looked around. 'And what exactly will happen, when I press this button?'

'All you will be doing is setting off a small incendiary device. This will provide us with a small diversion, allowing us a few extra valuable seconds for our escape.'

'And that's all?'

'That's it; so, are you up for it, or what?' I straightened up and took another swig.

'I don't know; let me think about it for a while.' He picked up his Guinness and took his first swig, since he'd sat down.

'No problem.' I gulped back the last of my lager; and let out a huge belch. 'Ah, that's better; you sit and think about it while I go and get another pint.'

Spud picked up his glass and took a swig, and then sat staring into nothingness. I smiled, stood up, and made my way to the bar. This would go one of two ways, I thought. He will either shit himself, and back out; or get excited by the idea of being involved in an assassination. I was hoping the latter. The bar was quite empty; I got my pint and made my way back to the table, where Spud was sitting with his arms crossed looking at the sky.

I sat down. 'Still contemplating are we?' I asked.
He dropped his head to look at me. 'Look, if I agree to this, I want us to be able to go through it step by step; you know; like the old days, with a rehearsal, and everything?'

I smirked. 'Hay, I intend to do a lot more than just rehearsals. I mean, you've been out of the game for a long time, and I need to know that you're still up to it.'

He frowned. 'Now hang on a minute Jack; I'm not totally out of touch you know. I still have to ensure the guys at my security firm are trained correctly, which includes firearms.'

I let out a little laugh. 'Come on Spud; you can't compare security work, to killing someone in cold blood. Someone who means nothing to you, and has done you no harm; now can you?'

He shrugged his shoulders. 'Well, when you put it like that; I suppose not.'

'So, can I say you're in, or what?'

'Fine, I could use a little excitement in my life round about now; so yes I'm in.'

'Oh, I can certainly guarantee you that. I picked up my pint. 'Okay, now that's settled, let's drink to it.' Spud lifted his Guinness, we touched glasses in a toast, and both gulped our drinks back.

'Look Spud, I'm going to finish my drink and then go for some lunch. I'll be in touch with you in a couple of days, okay?'

'Okay, I think I'm going to stay for a while longer, and have another drink.'

I stood up and shook his hand. 'Fine, I'll see you later.'

I left the bar and decided to go to the Savoy hotel for lunch. I wanted to have a look at the window to the storeroom from the outside; to see what I was going to need to remove the bars, without making too much noise. I also needed to make sure there was somewhere legal to park the car, without it looking suspicious. The last thing I needed was to get a parking ticket; that would mean the authorities would have the details of the car. Where it was parked, and at what time; meaning, it wouldn't take the police long to put two and two together.

I walked around the rear of the hotel, not realising the enormity of the task; going down a narrow alleyway; I couldn't possibly imagine the scale of this building. It was enormous, with lots of other small alleyways leading off. It took me what seemed like forever, to find the window to the storeroom. Once I saw the window, I realised just how open the area around it was. What concerned me was the task of cutting through the bars undetected. I'm going to need to think about this one. I thought.

The next thing to sort out was where to park the car. I needed it to be legal, and as close to the window as possible; I didn't want to be running any long distances.

I decided to cut the bars in broad daylight. The window was down an alleyway that wasn't used that often. Therefore, I could act as a worker doing some repairs, and use a grinder to cut through the bars, but still leaving them in place. It was hardly likely anyone would use this alleyway; however, if they did, as a worker I wouldn't look out of place.I also noticed there were no parking restrictions down the alleyway, which worked out great.

Happy with what needed doing, I made my way into the hotel, to order myself some lunch, and have a last look around the place; to ensure I had not left anything out. The last thing I needed on the day, were any last minute surprises. I thought.

The meal was, as I would expect it to be in a hotel of this stature, along with the price tag. Whilst I was inside, I saw nothing that looked like it might cause a problem on the day. Happy with everything inside the hotel, I wouldn't need to show my face around here again. I decided to deal with the bars to the window, the day before the conference. That way there would be less chance and time for someone to notice they'd been sawn through.

******

In my hotel room I went to the top shelf in my wardrobe and dragged out an old shoebox and laid the box on the bed. I sat down and slowly removed the lid, inside was an assortment of photographs, some of the times I'd spent in the army, and more importantly some of the happier times I'd spent with Julie and Clair. I began to remove the photos, one by one, hardly glancing at the military photos before placing them down next to the box.

Every time I came across a picture with Julie or Clair on, I tried to remember the situation from which the picture was took. Had I taken this? Was I even there? Shit! I'd become so emotionally detached from my family, that I appeared to have lost all memory of my time as a husband, and a Father.

As I looked at a picture of Julie cradling Clair in her arms, I began to lose focus, as tears started to well up, and without warning, I suddenly began to break down. My whole body began to jerk up and down as I started sobbing uncontrollably. Clutching the photo to my chest, I lay back on the bed, and for the first time in a long time, allowed myself to succumb fully, to my emotions.

I continued sobbing until eventually; I fell asleep, still clutching the photo of Julie and Clair. A knock at the door stirred me; I opened it to find Spud stood there. "Jesus, Jack, you look like shit."

I wiped the sleep from my eyes. "Thanks Spud, nice to see you too."

He entered the room to see the photos covering my bed. "Been spending some time down memory lane have we?"

"Yeh, something like that."

He picked up one of the photos. "Jesus Christ. Jack, do you remember this?"

Scratching my head, still half in a daze, I looked at the picture. "Em, I think so... I'm not sure."

"Sure you do, this was taken in the Oman, while we were doing some freefall, out in the desert."

I searched around for a glass; I was in desperate need of a drink of water. "Look Spud, do you want a drink or something? I was still searching for a glass. "By the way, why are you here?"

"No thanks, and the reason I'm here is, I've managed to take some holiday I had coming to me, four weeks to be exact. So, I thought we could get to together, to start going through the plan you have for this Op."

Stunned, I stopped searching for the glass. "What now? At the moment I only have the plan in my head, I haven't put it down on paper, or drawn any diagrams or anything like that yet."

Still scanning through the photos, he turned to look at me. "Oh, right."

"Well I wasn't planning on doing a brief just yet. Look, give me a couple of days and I'll put something together, okay?"

He dropped the photos he was holding onto the bed. "Okay, give me a call when you're ready. This'll give me time to enjoy a few days of my holiday, undisturbed."

I walked over and opened the door. "That's great; I'll call you when I'm ready."

Thank God. I thought, as he walked through the door. I just wasn't in the mood for him right now.

I collected all the pictures up and placed them back into the shoebox, then hid it away, along with my emotions. Swearing, to never let them out again; at least not until this thing was over. I couldn't afford to let my guard down like that again, it would leave me too vulnerable. A weakness I could ill afford right now.

I decided to go to the gym and work off some of the stress I was feeling, and clear out the cobwebs. An hour on the treadmill, followed by a session on the punch bag, always does me the world of good, and I needed to start getting my body and mind into shape, ready for the coming Op. I wanted to ensure I was in top shape before starting to work with Spud; the last thing I wanted to do, was to show myself up in front of him.

******

I began getting some material together, ready to brief Spud on the plan. Using Google Earth, I printed off two satellite pictures; one was of the area around the Savoy Hotel, and the other one, of the area between my lock up and the Savoy. On the latter, I marked the route; I was planning to take, to and from the Savoy. On the other, I marked the areas where the car was to be parked, and where the entry and exit window was situated. I began to make an Ops board on one of the walls in my hotel room; along with the satellite pictures; I had blown up photos that I'd taken during my CTR. Photos of the escape window, the conference hall, and of the dais; next to those, I had a timetable, with a list of all the actions we needed to carry out, and a time that each of these actions needed to be performed.

1100 hrs: Leave the lock up.

1145 hrs: Arrive and park at the rear of the Savoy.

1200 hrs: Enter the hotel via the window.

1215 hrs: Gain entry into the conference hall, and set
incendiary device on dais.

1245 hrs: Press allowed into conference hall.

1330 hrs: Target arrives at hotel.

1400 hrs: Conference begins.

1405 hrs: Neutralise Target and set off incendiary device.

1410 hrs: Leave the Savoy by car.

1500 hrs: Arrive back at lock up.

1505 hrs: Destroy all clothing.

1515 hrs: Leave lock up via a taxi.

1545 hrs: Arrive at pub in Covent Garden.

Along with the timetable was a list of things to do, before the day of the Op.

Item One: Change the number plates on the car, check
fuel, and oil.

Item Two: Test the incendiary device.

Item Three: Check and test the darts and gun.

Item Four: Check clothing; gloves, masks, and
disposable boiler suits.

Item Five: DOUBLE CHECK EVERYTHING AGAIN.

Once I was happy with my briefing board, I could call Spud and give him a full heads up on how I expected the Op to go. This was the first time I've had to involve someone else in one of my Ops. However, the upside was that Spud comes from the same background as me, so he would be able to have some input, and could possibly put a different slant on things. When it comes to planning, two heads are always better than one. I at least learned that much, in my time at Hereford.

The next thing I needed to do was find a way to see if Spud was up to the task, both physically and more importantly, mentally. I felt fairly confident that Spud would've kept himself in shape; but whether he was still up to handling the pressure of a killing situation was a different matter. The last thing I needed was for him to go to pieces at the critical moment, and end up getting us both arrested; leaving Clair, with no hope of getting out of this alive. The thought of that was incomprehensible for me.

I also wanted to spend some time on the shooting range, just before we embarked on the Op. I knew Spud would be able to arrange this, as he trains his own security guards in the use of weapons. As well as the dart gun, I would be carrying my Glock 9mm pistol, as back up, I also wanted Spud to be carrying a handgun too. Furthermore, be prepared to use it as well, if the need arises.

Happy I had everything I needed in place; I called Spud and made an appointment. I arranged to meet him in my local pub, so we could have a drink to quell the nerves, before I took him to see my lock up on the south side of town. Once I had shown him the set up down there, I would take him back to my hotel room and using the briefing board on my wall, give him a full operational brief on the proposed plan. Finishing off with a short set of SOPs, (Standard Operating Procedures) a set of procedures to deal with any unforeseen eventualities; along the lines of, What if.

The meeting was set for tomorrow morning, so I decided to stay in and watch a bit of telly. I wanted to keep a clear head, because I remembered how overpowering he could get, if he's allowed to. I would need to take the initiative right from the start, and not let up on the reins at all; otherwise, he would be in there like a shot, trying to take over the whole operation.

Turning on the TV I flicked from station to station, trying hard to pay attention to what was being shown, but I my mind just wouldn't switch off. I found my brain inadvertently going through an imaginary checklist, trying its best to wheedle out any discrepancies I may have overlooked. I shook my head, as if trying to dislodge an unwanted water blockage in my ear.

For God's sake, can’t I get any rest from this shit. I thought. I made myself a cup of coffee; hoping a caffeine injection might relax my brain. If that failed, I decided I would take a sleeping pill and to hell with it, even if it was only 6pm. I knew a couple of whiskeys would do it, but I needed a clear head in the morning, not a hangover.


CHAPTER SIX
Week Two

I tossed and turned for what seemed likes hours. I had no idea what time I eventually fell asleep, but I when I woke it was still dark, I looked at the clock thinking it was probably still night, but the clock said 6:40. I decided to get up, head down to the restaurant, and see if I could get some breakfast.

As I’m not usually up at this time of the morning, I wasn’t even sure if the restaurant would be open. The door was locked and a sign said breakfast starts at 07:30 am. Shit! I turned and headed for the street, I guessed there must be a cafe open somewhere in town.
Walking down the lamp lit street my mind began simmering over the days coming events. It suddenly struck me that a week of my deadline had already gone, and I was no closer to finding Clair. I had to step up my efforts or before I knew it, there would be no more time left. In the distance I could see a bright light coming from a window, I made my way towards it, hoping it would be a cafe. As I got closer I could see a sign saying, Toney’s Greasy Spoon. Just what I needed. I opened the door and stepped inside, the smell of sizzling bacon hit me like a freight train. There was only a couple of people sat inside. I made my way to the counter, a stout man wearing a white apron stood behind.

“God, that smells great.” I said.

“How can I help you?”

“I would love a full English, if you don’t mind?”

“One full English coming up; and to drink?”

“A nice big mug of coffee, please.”

“Certainly, please take a seat.”

I sat at a table near the window, ready to see the sun rising over the tops of the city buildings. I watched as the darkness slowly began to give way to the light, and the sky quickly started to transcend from white to red. Another nice day. I thought.

Slowly the feelings of contentment began to fade, pushed out as the thoughts of Clair rose to the top of the pile. Where could she be? My heart started sinking as reality rapidly began to set in.

I’d set the meeting for 10 am, so I still had some time to get my thoughts together before I’d have to face Spud. I had to admit, I wasn’t looking forward to it. I’m not used to working with someone else, especially someone as over bearing as Spud. I just knew he was going to be a pain in the arse, and make my life hell for the next few weeks, but I had no choice in the matter. Just then the owner arrived with my coffee. “Breakfast won’t be long.”

“Thanks.” Pouring some milk into the mug, I watched as the streets outside got busier with people making their way to work. In the past I would have looked at these people thinking how mundane their daily lives must be. However, right now I would give anything to swap my life for one of theirs.

The coffee felt good as it warmed me up from the inside out, sweeping away the initial chill of the early morning. I could feel my stomach rumbling as it reacted to the smell of the bacon frying in the background. A man got up and walked out, as he opened the door behind me the morning chill wisped over me again. Cupping the mug in both hands, I quickly took another swig of coffee to help drown the shiver that suddenly run the full length of my spine. Just then, a large plate was thrust in front of me.

“Your full English. Enjoy.”

I looked down to see two large eggs, a heap of bacon and beans, topped off with two big sausages. Next to that was a small plate stacked with slices of toast. Now that’s what
I call a breakfast.

“That looks great, thanks.”

********

Back at my hotel room, I started getting my shit together ready for the arrival of Spud. My plan was to take him through the Op’s board, make sure he had the plan imbedded in his head, and send him on his way for the rest of the day. Then I wanted to go in search of a second hand van, so I would have plenty of time to get it ready for the Op.

As in the old days Spud was bang on time. “Good to see you’re still on the ball.”

“One thing I can’t stand is tardiness. I won’t stand for it in my organisation, so I have to lead by example.”

“ Glad to hear it. Well sit down and we’ll get down to it.”

“Nice Op’s board, takes me back to the old days.”

“Well, forget the old days, this is now, and I need you to pay full attention to what I’m about to tell you, okay?”

“What ever, just get on with it.”

I gave him a look of discontent. “Look Spud if you’re not prepared to take this seriously, we can call it quits right now.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Okay, keep your hair on.”

Pointing at the board. “Okay, as you can see I’ve laid the board out in the usual fashion. The photos you can see are pictures of the target area, and the key locations to be used throughout the Op. There is a timetable, and a list of tasks to be carried out before the Op starts, happy so far?”

“He gave me a look of contempt. “Are you taking the piss?”

“Okay, sorry.”

I went through the whole plan with him, and I had to admit I was surprised to see he didn’t disagree once. He even liked my plan, which gave me a slightly uneasy feeling. This had to be the first time he’d ever agreed with me on anything. Still I wasn’t going to complain. I asked him to set up some shooting practice for us both, to which he agreed. He said he would call me once he had the range set up, then left.

I searched the internet to find a second hand van for the Op. All I needed was a small van that was in reasonable condition. I found a nice white Ford escort van that was going quite cheap, and it was a private sale, which made it better for me. That way I could pay cash, and as I did not intend to register the vehicle, there would be no paper trail to follow later on.

I had some magnetic signs made up to place on the side of the van, and produced some false number plates that were at least registered to a white Ford escort van. Then if a cop does decide to run the plates, he won’t have any reason to suspect anything.

********

After finishing with the van I left my lock up and headed back to my hotel. As I opened the door to my room I saw a business card on the floor. I picked it up, on the back was written, Need to know where your daughter is? Try room 26. I turned the card over to see it was a business card for the Strand Palace Hotel. I didn’t have the first clue as to who had left the card, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

I quickly took my pistol out from where I had taped it under the bedside table, placed it down the back of my trousers and went to grab a taxi.

When I reached the hotel I didn’t bother going to reception, but headed straight for room 26. As I approached the door I began contemplating on whether to knock, or to just kick the door in. I decided to knock, and turn to face away from the spy hole. I knocked a few times, but got no answer. I decided to pick the lock, which was very easy.

I quickly looked around, took out my pistol lowered my breathing and slowly opened the door. As I entered, the first room I came across was the bathroom to my left. I slowly crept up until I was next to the open door. I swung round quickly at the same time bringing my pistol to bear. Empty. I turned and placing my back against the wall moved slowly down the short corridor to the main room. On reaching the end, I again swung into action ready to pump a bullet into anyone who moved, only to find that this room was also empty. Shit! I put my pistol away and started searching around; looking for any clue that could help me.

After a few minutes I became very disheartened, I couldn’t find a thing that showed any signs Clair had ever been there at all. I was just about to leave, when something on the other side of the room caught my eye. I slowly walked over to the object, and as I got closer I began to make out it was an hairclip, not just an hairclip, but one you would only expect a very young girl to be wearing. I picked it up off the floor. It looks like she may have been here after all. I thought.

I went down to reception, to see if I could gain any information that could help me. There was a young woman behind the desk, shuffling through some papers.

“Hi there, I wonder if you could help me?”

“In what way sir.”

“I was suppose to have a meeting with the person who was staying here in room 26. However, it appears he has left, could you possibly tell me when he left?”

“One moment sir._ It appears that room became vacant in the early hours of this morning.”

“I don’t suppose you could tell me when he arrived, or if he was alone?”

“I’m sorry sir, but I’m not sure I can give out that sort of information.”

I took out my wallet, and pulled out a note of money. “Look if you could see your way to helping me, this fifty pound note can be yours.”

She looked around to see if anyone was watching. “Fifty pounds, I could really do with that right now. Okay, what do you need to know?”

“I need to know who stayed in that room, how many, and when they booked in here.”

“The name given was a Mr Evans. There was three of them, two men and a young girl.”

“How did this Mr Evans pay for the room?”

“He paid by credit card.”

Yes! “ Do you have the credit card details?”

“I’m not too happy about giving you those kinds of details.”

“Look, I have no intentions of stealing from him, I just need to find him. Now, do you want this fifty quid or not?”

She reluctantly gave me the information. This was the best lead I’d had so far. In fact it was the only lead I’d had so far. I had this guy’s name, and soon with these details, hopefully his address.

********

I took out my mobile phone and got in touch with a computer geek I often used on some of my jobs.

“Hay Liberace.” He liked being called Liberace, not that he was gay or anything. It was because he thought Liberace was such a good piano player, and as he was so good on the computer keyboard, it would be a cool name. Personally I didn’t think Liberace was that good, but what the hell. He was great with a computer, and that’s all that interested me, so who was I to argue. Still, it didn’t stop the fact that every time I said his name, a smirk would appear on my face. “I need you to do me a job.”

“What you got in mind?”

“I have some credit card details I need you to check up on.”

“What do you need?”

“I need a full name, address, telephone number, especially any mobile number that might be registered.”

“Okay, no problem, anything else?”

“Yes, I want a list of all transactions carried out within the last two weeks.”

“What’s it worth?”

“You’ll get the usual. One other thing. Will it be possible for you to set it up, so that every time a transaction is carried out, it will put a red flag up on my computer, telling me where and when the credit card was used?”

“Yes sure, but that will be extra.”

“No problem, just do it.”

“Okay, I’ll e-mail you with the details as soon as I have them.”

“Great, thanks.”

Having used my mobile, I noticed a number of missed calls, which came up as unknown number. I rang the number to see whom it was, only to find I was again talking to the Met.

“Hello Mr Spader, we have been trying to get in touch with you for some time.”

“Oh, hi. So, do you have any information yet?”

“Not at this moment in time. However, I do remember asking you to stay in your room, just in case your daughter tries to get in touch.”
“Excuse me, it’s been over a week now. So just how long did you expect me to stay locked away in a poxy hotel room?”

“Well, Mr Spader, if you’re not willing to co-operate, you are only going to compound an already awkward situation.”

“Look, unless you come across some information that is of any use to me, I suggest you leave me alone from now on.”

“Look, Mr Spader_”

I hung up the phone. Useless fucks. I thought.

I made my way back to the hotel and decided to wait until I heard from Liberace. I really couldn’t do much more until I had the info he was going to give me. With this new development, I decided to put the assassination job on the back burner for a while, and concentrate on trying to find Clair. At least until Spud got in touch with me again, which knowing him, I didn’t think would be long now. I had no intentions of telling Spud about the new info I’d got. I didn’t want anyone jeopardising any chance I might have of rescuing Clair. If there was a slight chance of getting her back, I was going to do it alone.

I hovered around my hotel room constantly checking my e-mails for what seemed like days. He doesn’t usually take this long coming up with the goods. I contemplated phoning him, but gave him the benefit of the doubt, as he’d never let me down in the past. It’s just, I felt I was on the verge of a break through, and the frustration was getting to me. Force of habit had me heading for the fridge to grab a bottle of JD. I took one look, and removed every bottle of liquor from the fridge and started pouring them down the sink. From now on not one sip of liquor was going to pass my lips again, until all this shit was over.

Eventually I got the call. “Hay, it’s Liberace, I’ve got what you asked for.”

“Jesus, it’s about time.”

“I know, I’m sorry, this wasn’t as easy as I thought it was going to be. The thing is, this guy, Mr Evans, isn’t actually the owner of the credit card. It belongs to a corporation, but unfortunately, even I had to admit defeat in finding out the name of them.”

“Oh right, so what are you telling me?”

Well, I managed to get the full name, but no address or phone numbers. However, I was able to track the recent transactions of the card, and be able to hook up all future transactions to show up on your computer.”

“Well that’s at least something. Thanks buddy, I owe you.”

“Not really, just pay me what I’m due.”

“No problem.”

“I’m sending you an e-mail with the details now, okay.”

“That’s great, thanks.”

I opened my e-mail account eagerly awaiting the info inside. However, I needn’t have bothered, looking at the list of transactions, the last entry was the payment for the room at the Strand Palace Hotel. So at that moment, with the information I was given, I wasn’t going to get any closer to knowing where these people were, than I was when I was at the hotel it’s self. I would just have to wait, and hope this prick used his credit card again. Fuck!

It felt like nothing was going right for me. Shit, what the hell did I have to do, just to get a shagging break around here?

Just then the phone rang. “Hi Jack it’s Spud, I’ve managed to set up a 50m range for us to use, over at Chelsea barracks.”

Shit, that’s all I needed right now. “Oh right, that sounds great, when?”

“In two days, I’ll come round and pick you up.”

“Okay, what time?”

“About 10 am, if that’s all right?”

“Yes fine, I’ll see you then.”

“Okay, have you heard anything new yet?”

“No not really, cops have been in touch, but they’re about as much use as tits on a fish.”

“Oh well, there’s still time yet, you never know what’s around the corner.”

“Yeh, what ever, I’ll chat with you later okay?”

“Okay mate, don’t give up, we still have time on our side.”

Easy for you to say. “Yes, if you say so, chat soon, bye.”

Suddenly my computer started beeping and a red flag started waving all over the screen. I had to admit it caught me completely by surprise. Shit, what’s happening. I thought. Then it struck me, that pricks making a transaction with his credit card. At last, got you now you fuck. It took a while before the information started to come through, but at last, my biggest break so far.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 03.11.2009

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