“Look — over there, Black. There she is.” Black started the engine and pulled slowly away from the kerb. Annabelle ran out of the alleyway, and then hurried along the pavement a few feet in front of them, jumping into one of the black cabs waiting outside of the main entrance to the hospital.
“Stay with her, Black. Don’t you bloody well loose that cab.” Slater said, fastening his seat belt.
The London cab that Annabelle Cunningham was sitting in the back seat of, weaved its way though the early evening traffic towards Docklands. After the shock of what had just taken place in the hospital. Her mind had gone a complete blank, and it was as much as she could do to speed dial LJ’s mobile telephone number. He answered immediately, and she explained what had taken place, the best she could between sobs. He instructed her to give the driver the address of the Ferran & Cardini building, and then told her that he would take care of everything else.
Dillon controlled the light flexible fencing foil with a calculated coldness, striking the button tip of the weapon into the chest of his opponent with ruthless precision. The buzzer sounded, and Dillon stepped one pace back, bringing the foil up, so that the tip was pointing skywards. He then bowed to his opponent who returned the gesture. In the changing room he had showered and was changing back into his street clothes, when his mobile phone started to ring.
He listened to Edward Levenson-Jones, give him a brief account of what had happened at the hospital, and how the police guard had been murdered by someone impersonating a doctor, and asking questions about the
U-boat’s location.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Dillon snapped the phone closed, and put it in his jacket pocket, picked up the holdall and went straight to the club’s underground car park to collect the Mercedes.
A moment later he emerged out of the gloom of the car park, driving the brand new convertible up the ramp at speed and immediately filtering into the early evening traffic. By the time he reached Docklands the majority of people who worked there during the day had gone home. Dillon stopped at the junction for a moment looking left and then right, and saw Annabelle stepping out of the rear door of the black cab. She started to walk the short distance towards the Ferran & Cardini building, and Dillon then saw something else. Slater and Black getting out of the red Ferrari fifty metres up the road, and then start to walk behind her.
From where he was positioned he couldn’t actually see who it was, but the bright red Italian sports car was enough. He swore out loud, and the tyres of the Mercedes screeched as he pulled away from the junction and accelerated up the road.
Annabelle was feeling somewhat happier, since LJ had phoned her back with the news that her father was safe and unharmed in his hospital bed. She crossed the road and entered the narrow side street that led to the Special Project Department’s private entrance.
The last remnant of daylight was almost gone, and with darkness fast approaching, she briskly walked between the tall buildings. Stopping briefly under one of the dockside lamps. She unzipped her bag, and rummaged around in amongst all of the other stuff for a lipstick. It was then, that she heard the movement behind her. Turned and found, Slater and Black standing there menacingly. She knew at once that she was in trouble. The street was deserted, and the entrance was at least another fifty feet away.
“What do you want?” She demanded, mustering up as much courage as she possibly could, and then started to edge away.
“Keep your hair on luv, there’s no need to panic,” Slater said. “All we want from you is one simple answer to one simple question, that’s all.”
Annabelle instantly recognised the man’s voice as that of the fake doctor at the hospital, and she turned and started to run towards the entrance, but Black was far too quick. Grabbing hold of her from behind he twisted her arm, and almost lifted her off the ground. She let out a scream which he stifled with his other hand.
“Annabelle, isn’t it?” Black said, as he grappled with her.
“If you promise not to struggle I’ll let go, but you try and run away, I’ll break both your arms and both your legs, just for good measure. Do I make myself clear, missy?” Annabelle nodded her head, and Black let go. The fear that she now felt had knotted itself in her stomach, and as he stepped away her legs gave way and she ended up sitting on the grimy cobbled surface. Slater came over, and roughly hauled her back up onto her feet like she was a rag doll. He still had a menacing look on his face, as he pinned her up against the wall.
“So, Miss Cunningham I’ll ask you once again, where is the U-boat located?”
She stared defiantly, looking him square in the eye, “Whoever you are, your breath stinks and you’re hurting my arm.”
“I like that in a woman, a bit of spirit, well I’ve got just the thing to loosen up your tongue.” Slater reached into his jacket pocket with his free hand, and pulled out a switch blade knife. The long six-inch blade appeared instantly, glinting in the semi-darkness.
“Now, for the last time. Answer my bloody question you stuck up bitch, or I’ll make sure you never talk again.”
The distinctive sound of a match being struck from somewhere in the shadows caused Slater and Black to both look over their shoulders at the same time. The flame flared as Dillon lit the cigarette.
“I’d step back, and leave the lady alone, if I were you,” he called. Stepping out from the shadows he started to walk towards them, Black turned, and went to meet him.
“Looking for trouble are we? Well you’ve got it, you poncy git.” Black looked like a street fighter, of that Dillon was in no doubt, but from the way he stood to the immediate throwing of the heavy punch to the head, Dillon also knew that it was just bravado.
He ducked, and then swayed to one side, coming up, and catching his opponent with a solid kick to the crotch. The effect was instant, Black stood there, with a pained and contorted expression on his face. Time froze, as he cupped both hands over his genitals, and then after a brief moment, sagged down onto his knees. Tears rolled down his face with the agonising pain that he felt. Dillon had been the better of him. As he walked passed the still kneeling man towards Slater, who was still holding onto Annabelle. Black looked up, and said arrogantly. “I’ll get you, you flash tosser.”
Dillon stopped, turned and stood facing the sobbing man who had recovered enough to stand up, but was still holding on to his private parts.
“Well what are you waiting for big man?” Dillon said matter of factly, and then immediately struck Black’s nose with a head butt that smashed the bone, and rendered the other man unconscious. Black went down onto the cobbled street almost in slow motion as his legs gave way, and he ended up in the gutter face down.
Slater, threw Annabelle to one side, and took the Walther PPK pistol from his trouser waistband. Dillon moved in fast, knocking him off balance as he slammed into his side with a rugby style tackle.
The butt of the Walther came down hard on Dillon’s back, and at the same time Slater brought his knee up in an attempt to make contact with his opponent’s face. Dillon instinctively moved with the blow which sent him reeling backwards, grabbing on to the other man’s leather jacket, and swinging him around.
The Walther went off, the noise deafening, bullet and sound ricocheting up through the empty street until both were expended somewhere into the brickwork of one of the tall buildings. The former army intelligence officer half turned and grabbed hold of the other man, throwing him judo style onto the ground. Slater, landed heavily on his back with the wind knocked out of him, and Dillon immediately brought the heel of his Italian leather shoe down hard onto his chest to the sound of cracking ribs.