“Just that. If you cross them, they’ll make sure that you are held to account. So be sure to tread carefully. That’s all.” Digby picked up his briefcase and walked across the office to the door, and placing his hand on the handle, hesitated, before saying. “I know that we haven’t seen eye to eye in the past, Oliver. But if you should need my help you know where I am.”
Asquith stood staring blankly at the door as it swung back quietly and closed. In the quiet of the office, the only sound that could be heard; was the fall of Digby’s footsteps outside on the flagstone floor of the corridor, as he walked away.
At his château on the outskirts of Paris, Hugo Malakoff listened patiently while, Asquith gave him details of the meeting with, LJ and Dillon at the House of Lords, as well as his visit from, Simon Digby.
“Quite astonishing,” he said when Asquith had finished. “This man, Dillon sounds like a loose cannon, Oliver. Definitely not the sort to have as an opponent, I’d say. As for this, Digby fellow he is just scavenging for any scraps of information that he may be able to pick up.” “What are we going to do, Hugo?”
“I really don’t know, Oliver, we’ll simply have to wait and see. I’ll be in touch.”
He put the phone down momentarily. Picked it up again and rang Slater in London, and when he answered told him exactly what he wanted him to do.
It was just after seven o’clock, and Annabelle was sat at her father’s bedside. A doctor who she’d not seen before came in to the room with a clipboard in his hand, and the customary stethoscope dangling around his neck.
“Good evening, Miss Cunningham. I hope our patient is comfortable this evening,” His accent appeared to be public school. Although, Annabelle wasn’t completely convinced by the man’s syntax or his smart expensive suit.
He walked around to the other side of the bed, checking the monitor leads that were attached to her father, every now and again, he’d look up and smile.
“Is there anything wrong, Doctor?” Annabelle asked anxiously.
“Nothing to concern yourself with, Miss Cunningham. The Commander is doing just fine.” He continued to check the monitoring machine that Nathan was attached to.
Slater prided himself as being a master of disguise with the ability to act out any part with absolute perfection. He put his hand inside the left pocket of the white coat that he was wearing, gently clasping his fingers around the grip of the small Beretta automatic pistol.
“Oh, it’s just that I haven’t seen you here before, are you new?”
“No, Miss Cunningham, I’m not new here. I usually work the night shift, but today I’m filling in for a colleague who has fallen ill.” Slater lied easily.
Annabelle felt a shiver run through her. There was something not quite right about his manner, or the way in which his eyes seemed to flit around the room. She stood up and moved towards the door, saying, “I won’t be a moment, I’m just going to get a coffee from the machine at the end of the hall.”
Slater had the silenced Beretta pointing at her stomach, before she could open the door and alert the armed police officer, whom was on guard outside in the hallway.
“Please sit back down, Miss Cunningham.” Annabelle stood with her hand on the handle, panic stricken, and she held Slater’s gaze for the merest second, before complying with his order, and then sat back down on the chair.
“No harm will come to you, as long as you do nothing heroic or stupid and you answer my questions quickly and truthfully. Do I make myself clear, Miss Cunningham?”
“Yes.” she said nervously.
“Good, then we understand each other. Now, where is the U-boat located?”
“I don’t know.”
“Wrong answer, Miss Cunningham.” Slater swung the gun round, and pressed it against Nathan’s temple.
“Now, I will ask you one more time, and please do not be in any doubt as to whether I would pull this trigger. Where is the U-boat located?” At that moment there was a knock at the door before it opened, and the police officer who had been standing guard outside entered the room.
Seeing Slater stood there with the Beretta pointed at Nathan Cunningham, he lifted his gun, but Slater responded with lightening reflexes, putting two bullets into his forehead in quick succession.
The officer dropped like a stone onto the hard vinyl flooring. Blood slowly spread across the light coloured surface, like the petals of a rose bloom. Slater knew that the first bullet had killed him instantly, and that the second was simply for good measure. He stood over the dead body and glanced down, savouring the moment as he always did after a kill.
Slowly he looked up, and saw that Annabelle had got away. Furious with the policeman who now lay dead at his feet for ruining his plan. He raised the Beretta, and pumped another two silenced bullets into the uniformed body before turning around and staring at the comatose body of Nathan Cunningham lying peacefully in the bed.
Malakoff’s instructions had been explicit; to finish Cunningham off; but he’d never kill anyone who couldn’t defend himself, that was simply bang out of order. Instead he took out his mobile phone and called up Black who was waiting outside in the Ferrari.
He would spin the Frenchman a story later.
Annabelle crouched in the cupboard for what seemed like an eternity, praying that the gunman hadn’t harmed her father, and trying to get her breath back. All that she could think of was getting to the safety of other people. But, she had to get out, couldn’t breath, and had to get outside quickly.
Standing up she tentatively opened the door to the storage cupboard so that she had a clear view up through the hallway. Seeing that it was clear, she ran straight to the fire exit stairway at the far end, and went through the door taking the stairs two at a time all the way down to the ground floor.
The staircase had brought her to a side entrance. Pushing the panic bar on the outer door it gave way easily, and the next moment she was standing in an alleyway that was completely deserted.
Slater smashed the glass of the fire alarm, and then walked calmly and quietly out of Nathan Cunningham’s private hospital room, quietly closing the door as he left. When he reached the end of the corridor he pushed open the heavy fire door, and checked the stairway.
He looked over the rail and could see all the way down to the ground floor. The panicked sound of a woman’s shoes could be heard clip-clopping quickly on the tiled steps moving in a downward direction, and were at least four floors down. When he went back through to the corridor there were nurses and doctors rushing around in all directions.
He pushed the button to call the elevator and a moment later sauntered out through the main entrance towards Black who was illegally parked a short distance away up the road. Getting into the passenger seat of the Ferrari, Black looked round and gave him an incredulous look, before saying, “What the fuck have you gone and done, Slater?”
“Don’t start, Black. I did everything as we agreed, I used the old doctor routine right down to the white coat and bleedin’ stethoscope around my neck. One minute I had it all sussed, and was in total control of the situation, the next all hell lets loose. If only that Cunningham girl hadn’t gone and got all suspicious like. Making some excuse about going to get a coffee from the machine, and getting up to leave and all. I wouldn’t have had to pull the Berretta on her and order her to sit back down. God, everything was going so well up to that point, I’d even asked her about the whereabouts of this U-boat, and then in barges this hulking great copper complete with a nasty looking machine pistol strapped around his neck. Well it was me or him Black, and no prizes for guessing who won.” Slater gave a nasty little snigger, “Oh, and while this is going on the bloody girl gets up, and legs it down the corridor, doesn’t she. But I’m pretty sure that she’s not far away.” Slater tapped Black on the shoulder. He looked round just as Annabelle was coming out of the side entrance in to the alleyway.