Honour Bound (17 page)

"Yes,
yes." Williams said, his voice little more than a whimper

"Good.
It'll get very messy if I have to remove your ears, or anything else that's
just hanging around."

Williams
suddenly became aware of his nakedness. He moaned as tears welled up in his
eyes and spilled down the side of his face, mingling with the sweat and blood
and splashing into small puddles on the table.

"You
have nothing to worry about Joey, well, nothing to worry about, as long as you
answer truthfully. But one thing you ought to remember, I will be asking you
some questions that I already know the answers to. So, shall we begin?"

Williams'
nod was restricted by his bonds. "Yes," he murmured. The word picture
of waiting pain painted by the man, along with the agony in his ear had thrown
any thoughts of loyalty to anyone other than himself to the back of his mind.
He had sworn an oath to the fat man, but he had not expected anything like
this. He was going to survive, and survive intact.

"Okay,"
Norton said, "we'll start with something easy. Who do you work for?"

"I,
I don't '
ave
a job.
I '
elp
out at a mate’s garage."

"
JayKays
, I presume."

"Yes,
but '
ow
-" He stopped abruptly as he felt the
carving knife touch the top of his other ear the sharp blade just nicking the
skin. A stream of urine escaped from the terrified man as he expected the
searing agony of the blade slicing through his ear.

"You
just answer the questions Joey. This is the last warning."

"Sorry,
I'm sorry. Please don't '
urt
me again." More
tears welled up and spilled onto the table mingling with the blood in growing
puddles, a crimson cocktail of pain and shattered pride.

Norton
removed the blade. "Calm down Joey, there'll be no need for the knife if
you just answer the questions."

Williams
took a deep ragged breath.

"Do
you have a car?"

"No."

"You
were seen in a Rover,” Norton said, “who did that belong to?"

"It,
it was nicked.
I 'ad to deliver it."

Norton
could almost feel the effort the man was making to keep calm and keep himself
alive. At least he has a chance to stay alive, he thought, that's more than the
bomb victims were allowed. Feeling no pity, he carried on.

"Deliver
it where?"

"I
drop '
em
off in a lockup across the road."

"Who
takes them from there?"

"I
dunno
. A woman, I've only ever seen '
er
, never spoken to '
er
. I
dunno
know who she is, that's the truth."

"Where
does she take them?"

"I
don't know."

"You
don't know, Joey. Never followed her?"

"No.
I'm not stupid. She leaves me three hundred quid when she takes it. I'm doing
four sometimes five a month. I don't want to chuck that. I don't care where
they go when they leave 'ere."

"What
happens to the cars when they leave you?"

"Somebody
alters '
em
and they get flogged."

"Whose
operation is it?"

"Fucking Christ man.
I can't give
you names like that. They'll kill me."

"Think
about it Joey,” Norton said, “
they
have to find you
first. Now as for me...." Norton placed the blade of the knife on Williams'
throat and applied a slight pressure, just enough to redden the skin.

"Peter
Holmes, it's Peter Holmes," he blurted. The tears burst like a dam and
flooded onto the table. "Jesus Christ," he wept, "they'll
fucking rip me apart."

"You've
got to have more faith Joey. I'm going to ask you one more question. If you
answer it truthfully, I'll be gone and no-one need know of our little
meeting."

"What
the fuck does it matter now. I'm as good as dead."

"You
shouldn't give up, not until you're six feet under." Norton watched
Williams,
he was completely broken, the tears still
streaming down his face. He had seen it before under active service conditions,
he knew now, that whatever answers he was given, would be the truth.

"Joey,"
he said, "what part are you playing in the group that bombed
Heathrow?"

Williams
swallowed hard, his face alive with rivulets of sweat. "I nicked some of
the motors. The two vans at '
eathrow
. I nicked '
em
from Ford's compound at Dagenham. They probably '
aven't
missed '
em
yet, there's
that fucking many. But I swear to God I didn't know they were
gunna
' be bombs. I reckoned they'd be used in a
blagging
."

He
seemed to be talking now not just from the unseen threat of Norton and the
knife, but from a longing to clear his mind of the deaths that he had been
partly responsible for. Norton likened it to taking his confession.

"I
dropped '
em
off in a garage in the East End. That's
the last I saw of '
em
. I swear."

"Where
did you drop them off?" Norton asked, keeping his voice calm and low.

Williams
sighed. "At a Ford dealers, SPENDLEYS it’s called, in Cambridge '
eath
Road, where the old brewery used to be. It's one of
Holmes' fronts for flogging ringers." He fell into silence, his eyes
closed. "I swear that's all I fucking know."

"Okay
Joey, I think I believe you."

He
wanted to ask who he’d spoken to in the car earlier. But that would only give
away the fact he had been waiting for him, watching, and there were not that
many places with a good view. He decided not to queer the pitch in case he had
to pay another visit. Instead he said, "I'm leaving now, and as I said, no
one need know of our little chat. I have nothing to gain by giving you away,
and you certainly have nothing to gain by telling anybody I was here."

He
took the Sig from its holster and cracked Williams on the side of the head a
second time, sending him back into unconsciousness. He stood up and cut through
the
sellotape
then put the knife back in the kitchen
drawer. He put his jacket back on, and as an afterthought, left a dirty cup,
full of water, and two
paracetamol
on the arm of the
settee. He was grinning when he took off the balaclava and left the flat.

-29-

Vance
Talbot was wide awake when the alarm clock on the bedside table began its
shrill beeping. Jayne was curled up beside him, her forehead resting lightly
against his shoulder, her breath warm as it brushed gently against his skin. He
had been in the same position, lying on his back, fingers interlocked and
resting on his stomach, for what seemed like hours. Sleep had eluded him,
stretching out the hours, his mind clouded with thought. For the last hour, he
had been watching as the pale light of dawn penetrated the curtains and inched
its way across the ceiling, slowly reclaiming the bedroom from the tenebrous
grip of the night. He sighed, reached for the alarm and turned it off. No point
in us both being awake, he thought.

Ever
since he had turned out the light the previous night, his mind had refused to
let him rest. His brain had kicked into overdrive as soon as his head had
touched the pillow. He began running over his conversation with Langdon, his
mind like a mental magnetic tape spooling back and forth repeatedly,
regurgitating and re-analysing, what to him, had become a nagging problem.

Langdon
would have assumed he had retrieved the file without anyone being aware. No
one, not even Mary, had known about his unauthorised piece of coding. If it had
been a genuine oversight, which he doubted, a few words, and a properly
submitted form would have rectified the whole problem. But no, when confronted,
Langdon had made up a cock and bull story about a commendation. It was a very
thin excuse, especially after some of the things Norton had done, which were
common knowledge in the Unit. Langdon was not in the same league as the Unit's
field operators when it came down to lying. Norton in particular had made it an
art form. There was little point in trying to infiltrate a terrorist group if
you were incapable of fabricating a convincing cover story. Langdon had never
had the in-depth training of an active field officer, had never had to rely on
his wits and a recently invented background to stay alive. He had transferred
into the Unit four years before from a faceless ministry, accepted because his
name and credentials were impeccable. His lack of training was all too obvious.
Talbot knew he was lying, and he was going to find out why.

It
certainly looked as though information had leaked to the other side, a leak
that had cost Willie Rivers his life. Langdon was now the number one candidate.
Talbot knew he would have to be very careful in the way he worded the report to
Sir Lionel. He had to ensure all the information he had was one hundred percent
correct, and checkable, before he made any allegations. It was generally known
throughout the Unit that he didn't get on very well with the senior management.
Any wrong move on his part, and it was likely the whole thing would be swept
under the carpet. It would be labelled as a clash of personalities with no
action taken to avoid embarrassment. Without a doubt, he would have to weigh
his words and actions very carefully, but one thing was certain, if it turns
out Langdon is the source of a leak to a terrorist group, then he will have to
be stopped.

Jayne
moved slightly murmuring something unintelligible as he slid from beneath the
sheet, she soon settled down and became still. Talbot ran a hand across the
stubble on his face and stood for a few moments, looking down at her sleeping
form. Her face, softened by sleep, was only half visible in the soft white
cloud of the pillow. A mane of long black hair fanned out across her shoulders
like a thick silky shawl. His eyes traced the slim outline of her body
displayed enticingly before him, yet seductively hidden from view by the thin,
clinging sheet. Familiar sensations surged through his loins as she moved
again, the sheet tightening over her breasts, cupping them to perfection like a
silken voyeur.

He
looked down at her and smiled, the warmth reaching his eyes and his heart. Even
after all these years of marriage, she'd hardly changed. She had matured, but
that had brought out a beauty in her that he hadn’t noticed when they were
younger. Her figure was as trim and as firm as ever, skin as soft as it had
been on their first fumbling encounter. He remembered that well. They had both
grown an extra pair of arms and legs for the event, or so it had felt at the
time, because they kept getting in the way. They had made love twice, the first
time rushed and unfulfilled, without finesse, the second at a more controlled
pace, both taking their time, time to please each other, time to love each
other. At the very moment they reached the height of passion and lay panting in
each other’s arms, the extra limbs, along with their worries and concerns, had
simply faded away. Neither had been sure what to do next so they had lain
there, holding each other as if for the first and last time, their bodies
covered with perspiration like early morning dew. He smiled at the memory and
leaned over, kissing her lightly on the cheek.

"I
love you," he whispered, before donning his robe and going into the
bathroom.

"I
love you too," she murmured, too soft for him to hear.

Talbot
drank his first cup of coffee in the silence of the kitchen. A silence
occasionally broken by the squabbling chirps from the birds fighting over the
breadcrumbs he'd tossed on the lawn. A cool breeze wafted through an open
window stirring the edges of a newspaper lying unread on the kitchen table. He
was on his second cup of coffee and feeling better within himself when Jayne
loitered into the kitchen, arms folded across her stomach, hands and wrists
disappearing into the opposite sleeves of a baggy pink dressing gown.

"Morning,"
she said, making it sound like a question. "What time is it?" She
squinted at the wall clock through half closed eyes still puffy with sleep.

He
answered, "seven-twenty," then put the newspaper into the briefcase
and snapped it shut. "I've got to go now, why don't you go back to bed and
have a lazy day."

She
smiled. "I may do. But first, I will see my husband off with a forced
smile and a tear in my eye. Only then shall I chain myself to the kitchen
sink."

"You'd
better not be chained there when I get back," he said, brushing his hand
lightly across her breast, "I might take advantage of you."

"I
think you had better go," she laughed. She put both hands on his buttocks
and squeezed gently, pushing him out of the door at the same time. "You'd
better go now," she said, squeezing a little harder, "or I may take
advantage of you, right now."

"You're
a pervert," he said, "can't you see the lights are on?"

He
blew her a kiss as he walked to the garage.

"Have
you invited Sam round for dinner yet?" she called after him. "If he
doesn't have a current lady friend I'll invite Lisa from my club."

"Your
undisguised attempts at matchmaking still amuse him, you know."

He
took the car keys from his pocket.

"He's
got a job on at the moment, so he's a bit busy. I spoke to him at the club and
he mentioned something about wild horses, now whether he meant they wouldn't
keep him away, or whether he was referring to the last young lady you fixed him
up with, I'm not sure. But I got the impression he'll come."

She
nodded and smiled. "It's unhealthy for a good looking hunk like him to
bury himself in work, especially when he could bury himself in Lisa." She
quickly reddened at the unintentional innuendo. "I didn't mean
.."

"I
know exactly what you didn't mean," he said, speaking from the centre of a
wide grin.

He
leaned down and pulled on the garage door.

"I'll
see you
tonig
......"

The
length of cord tied to the inside of the door tugged sharply on the nail
embedded in the explosives, the sudden jolt sloshing the mercury in the glass
bowl. The instant the liquid metal covered both lengths of the wire an
electronic circuit was completed. A one-amp charge ran from the battery,
through the mercury and into the detonator.

The
blast from the four pounds of
Semtex
explosive blew
Talbot's shattered, limbless corpse twenty yards along the drive. The garage
and the side of the house disappeared in the blink of an eye, a fragmented
tumult of bricks, metal and concrete. The force of the blast rocketed Jayne
back into the kitchen. Her momentum checked, but not stopped as her legs
smashed into the edge of the table, both knees shattering to a pulp. There was
no time to scream before a shock wave of superheated air propelled her into the
rear wall. A tortured scream finally emerged as the petrol from the car, vaporised
by the explosion ignited, engulfing the kitchen and the remains of the house in
a raging ball of flame. The noise of the explosion rumbled through the still
air. A storm of charred and blackened fragments fell back to earth, sounding
like heavy rain as they ripped through the leaves on the trees and bushes. The
air filled with the cracking and splintering of wood as the house succumbed to
the flames, fuelled into a blazing inferno by a severed gas pipe. A huge pall
of thick, acrid smoke climbed from the flaming ruin to form a dense black cloud
in an otherwise clear blue sky.