Night Vision (28 page)

‘We found you!' he said.

Kay did begin to cry again. ‘I'm hungry and I'm tired and I want my mum.'

‘We all want our mums,' Jilly said. ‘But we've just got to be brave, now, don't we Naomi?'

Naomi clasped her hand. ‘You
are
being very brave,' she said.

THIRTY-THREE

T
ravers watched the news. Munroe had called and given him an update – it was not looking good. Alec had been implicated, and Eddison was triumphant.

‘What can I do?' Travers wanted to know. ‘He can't get away with this! It's all a nonsense, Munroe.'

‘I'm doing all I can. Nick, you'll be getting a visit from my boss. My actual boss. Tell him all you can. What I'm hoping is that Eddison is just causing chaos so he can get clean away.'

‘And what you're not hoping?'

‘Is that he's just lost it big time and doesn't care who or what he takes down with him.'

In the back of the car Naomi sat between the sleeping children. In the rear of the hatchback Napoleon snored contentedly. The adults listened to the news.

‘
There are reports coming through that arrests have been made, but conflicting reports that the armed units have now been stood down and withdrawn from the scene
.'

‘What does that mean?' Patrick wondered.

‘I don't know,' Naomi said. ‘It's really unusual for the news to have broken so quickly, anyway. It isn't the norm. I mean, yes, if something happens in the centre of town, then you expect the media to be all over it in no time, but out here? Eddison has to have tipped them off.'

‘What's he hoping to gain from that?' Harry mused. ‘Just the glory, do you think?'

Naomi shook her head, nagging worry almost overwhelming. She wanted to go to Alec, but knew that was impossible, and anyway they had to make sure Jilly and Kay were safe. If safe was a possibility now.

So what did Eddison want? What effect were his actions having? ‘Confusion,' she said. ‘I think he wants to create as much chaos as he can. My guess is he'll then cut and run. I've no doubt he has plans in place. I think maybe he didn't want them to be implemented quite as soon as they have.'

‘So what triggered all this?'

‘My guess is Jamie Dale. What she knew, what she was about to tell. Those photographs, perhaps, if Eddison knew they existed, and the implications of them – that might have been enough for him to turn on her, and what better cover than to use someone like Gregory as the fall guy? Who would care?'

‘Why didn't Jamie try and expose him before?' Harry questioned. ‘Why send the pictures to you at Christmas and then do nothing about them?'

‘I'm not sure,' Naomi admitted. ‘Maybe she viewed them as an insurance policy. Maybe he didn't know about them until recently. Maybe she told him just before she died.'

They came to a junction. ‘Left or right?'

Patrick looked at the map. ‘Right,' he said, ‘and then left, then second left.'

‘You're making this up as you go along,' Harry grumbled.

‘Well, yes. Actually, I'm trying to get us back to Bristol.'

‘Why Bristol?'

‘Big city, easier to disappear. Things to do to amuse the kids. I don't know. I just think that we're a pretty distinctive group, and it might be best if Uncle Harry and Auntie Naomi and Cousin Patrick find a place to go where there are other uncles and cousins and kids and we don't stick out like quite such a major sore thumb.'

He had a point, Naomi thought.

‘And we've got to go
somewhere
,' Patrick added. ‘We can't just go on driving forever.'

Gregory had obtained a car. He had gone beyond the area of investigation, crossing the road and cutting back across the fields to where uniformed and white-clad and plain-clothes personnel milled and roiled and tried to look purposeful. Something had changed in the minutes since he had lost sight of the farm, he thought. He could see two men gesticulating, a woman listening to her phone; another woman, standing close by, paused uncertainly mid action.

Something was not right.

He did not have time to consider what it was that had effected the change of mood; instead he moved on, looking for a vehicle. Finally, at the back of the farm, he found what he was looking for. An old hatchback, faded red and mud splattered. He guessed it must belong to one of the workers on Tilly's Farm or the one next door. It wasn't clear now, just where the boundaries were. Moments later he was off in pursuit of Eddison, knowing the police vehicles had a massive head start.

Munroe arrived at the farm about thirty minutes after Gregory had left, almost an hour after Eddison had taken Alec and the others away and forty minutes after the contradictory orders had started to arrive.

‘What the hell is going on?' DI Southam, de facto commander of operations now that Eddison had gone, was fielding queries from officers, command centres and now from the media, who seemed oddly au fait with the incident at Northbeach Farm. And taking considerable flack from the owner, Mathilda Morgan, currently confined to her kitchen but making an almighty racket about it.

Eddison had ordered her arrest on conspiracy charges, but now Southam was not so sure.

Munroe showed his credentials.

‘Counter intelligence? I'm not sure I get this.'

‘You've been ordered to stand down?'

‘Well, yes, but I'm sure you realize, you don't just suddenly discontinue an operation this size, not without some proper authorization.'

‘Consider your arse covered,' Munroe told him. ‘Stand your people down, and I want you and two more to come with me.'

‘On whose authority?'

Munroe told him to call his boss to verify the instructions, and then he went inside to confront Tilly Morgan. She regarded him with narrowed eyes. ‘Who the 'ell are youm? You get this load o' rakes out my kitchin.'

‘Go,' Munroe instructed. ‘Now. All right if I sit down, Mrs Morgan?'

The eyes narrowed even further, but she nodded curtly. Behind him, Southam entered the kitchen.

‘An 'e can bugger off too!'

‘Two minutes,' Munroe told Southam, and he and his people retreated outside.

‘Now, Mrs Morgan, you've been very kind to some friends of mine, letting them stay here.'

‘Where have the kids gone?' she demanded. ‘I see them bring the feyther and that woman, but not the kiddies.'

‘Safe, I promise you. I arranged for them to get out before the police arrived.'

‘How?'

‘Boat. They were taken off the beach by boat.'

She didn't look convinced. ‘You going to get 'im then?' she said. ‘Youm goin' to take those daft buggers away?'

‘I'm going to leave a few of those daft buggers here,' he told her. ‘Mrs Morgan, the newspapers and the television, they're going to be very interested in you, so I think it's best if there's someone here to keep them off your land.'

‘Newspapers, eh?' she said, and he could see the wheels turning in her head.

‘Until you're ready to talk to them, of course.' He stood up again, and then leaned close to the old woman. She smelt of lemon thyme and toast. ‘Don't tell anyone I said, but you make sure the papers pay you for your story, eh? How your little farm was raided by all these daft buggers. Oh, and ask about some compensation, too, OK?'

She smiled at him then, though the eyes were still narrow slits in the wrinkled face.

You're
not such a daft bugger, are you, Munroe thought as he left her. Satisfied, he noted that Southam was organizing an orderly retreat and that two men in full defensive gear stood close by, waiting for Munroe to emerge.

‘Get a vest on,' Southam instructed, and Munroe complied, shedding his jacket and fastening the bullet-proof garment over his shirt. Not that it would make a damn microbe of difference, he thought. Both Eddison and Gregory had been trained to go for the head shot, and he was under no illusions. Gregory might have temporarily have joined forces with him, but that was only for so long as their interest coincided. Gregory was now after Eddison, and Munroe knew full well that he would shoot anyone who got between him and his prey.

THIRTY-FOUR

‘
W
hat are you doing?' Eddison demanded. The front escort car had stopped, and so had the van, forcing Eddison's car to brake too.

His driver shrugged. ‘Don't know, guv. Want me to take a look?'

The driver of the lead car was walking back towards them, speaking to someone on his radio. He looked concerned.

Eddison got out. ‘What's the hold-up?'

‘Well, we've just had a change of orders, sir. We're to go back to the farm.'

‘For what reason?'

‘I don't know, sir, but the orders come from the Chief Constable himself, sir. We've got to find somewhere to turn this lot around.'

‘There'll be a farm gate a half mile on,' said Eddison's driver, a local man who knew the lanes.

‘We're not going back,' Eddison said. ‘We're going on.'

‘Sir, the orders come from the Chief Constable. With respect, guv, he's a bit higher up the chain than any of us, including you.'

‘And
I
say we go on.'

Looks of puzzlement became looks of shock and then of fear. Eddison was armed. Two shots, and two dead officers lay on the narrow road.

‘What the hell was that?' Paul said.

‘That was a gun,' Clara told him coldly.

Paul looked to Alec for verification.

‘Two shots,' Alec said. This is it then, he thought. He got up and banged on the partition between them and the cab. ‘What's going on out there?'

A third shot told him he wasn't going to find out that way. He looked desperately for a means of escape, knowing there was none. They sat on benches in an inner cage.

‘OK,' Clara said. ‘We get one chance at this. When he opens the door, we charge him.'

‘I like your spirit,' Alec said, ‘But Clara, he'll just shoot us through the wire, he won't bother to even open the inner door.'

He heard a shout outside and another shot, something heavy stumbled against the van, and then the sound of running feet. Desperately, Alec tried to interpret the sounds. Three shots, he thought – three men down. Dead, or at the very least out of the equation. There would have been two officers in the lead car, maybe two in the van? And they would be armed on a detail like this. Had the second man in the lead car had time to get to his weapon?

Alec prayed that had been the case and that backup would arrive before Eddison got another shot at him.

Buy some time, he thought fervently. Just buy us some time. That, he figured, was the best they could hope for; the smart money, he knew, would be on Eddison.

THIRTY-FIVE

G
regory took the bends at speed; the police cordon meant he had no worries about anything coming the other way. The little hatchback roared and then screamed as he over-revved the engine. He slammed it into fifth and then retreated back to fourth as the road began to rise; old and tired, the engine couldn't make the hill. He changed down again, cursing the car and Eddison's head start, taking comfort only in the knowledge that the convoy up ahead would not be driving at such reckless speed. Even so, they still had half an hour on him, and anything could have happened in that time. It was a shock, then, when he veered round a particularly nasty bend in the road and came upon them.

The doors to the rear car were open, and Gregory could see the bodies of two officers, lying in the road. The van doors were closed. He swore as he caught sight of the bullet holes shot straight through the back panels.

Cautiously, he got out of the car and moved forward, not certain if, as his first instinct suggested, Eddison had already gone, or whether he should at any second expect it all to be over. Not that he'd know, Gregory thought. Eddison was too good a shot for that.

Another body slumped in the front of the van. The second car was gone. A fourth beside the front vehicle opened his eyes as Gregory approached. Gregory assessed his wounds with a professional eye. Bullet wound to the shoulder, and one to the gut. He gave him a small chance, if help got there fast.

So, Eddison had run.

‘I shot him. Leg.'

Gregory crouched down beside the fallen man. ‘You hit him?'

‘Yes. In the leg. Upper thigh.'

‘Good on you,' Gregory told him. ‘Lie still. Don't talk any more, OK?'

Gregory's first instinct was to get back in his car in pursuit. There was nothing he could do for the three dead officers, and hanging round would not improve the chances of the fourth. What about those inside the van? Irritated with himself for even pausing for that long, he went back round to the rear of the van and shot off the lock, then opened the doors.

Three slumped figures on the vehicle floor. Gregory watched as one slowly raised his head.

‘You're still alive, then,' Gregory said to Alec.

‘Just about. Paul is hit, in the calf, but it's a through and through. He'll live.'

He flinched back as Gregory dealt with the inner door and then began to walk away.

‘You can't leave us!' Clara shouted after him.

‘Watch me.' He gestured at the remaining police car. ‘First-aid kit in there I imagine, and here—' He picked up a mobile phone from where it had fallen beside one of the bodies. Checked it was still working. ‘Best call for an ambulance. There's a man round the front of the van, gut shot. Don't move him.'

Alec scrambled down. ‘You're going after Eddison?'

Gregory nodded. ‘It's what we do,' he said. ‘It's all I've ever been good at.' He paused for a moment. ‘Oh, I should watch the news over the next week or two, if I were you,' he said. ‘Jamie's story, it'll get out there by then. I've kind of made sure of that.'