‘OK.’
Sean looked at Lomax for a second, taking in the sallow complexion and the dark patches under the man’s eyes. He looked near to death’s door, but at least he could sit this one out.
Approaching the fence, Sean plucked a long blade of grass and spat onto it, using his fingers to spread the moisture along its length. He rested one end on the metal links of the fence, gradually shortening the blade of grass between his finger and the metal wire. If the fence was electrified, Sean would be able to detect the charge, considerably reduced by the resistance of the grass.
It wasn’t electrified. He scaled the fence and dropped lightly on the other side, laying still on the ground for several minutes while listening intently. While he listened he looked around. There were no obvious booby traps or trip wires present. But there might be sensors further in and away from the trees. No matter, this was only going to be a quick in and out job. As he rose he heard barking from the dogs, already on their way.
They came swiftly through the trees. They were not barking now — saving their breath, intent on seizing him and ripping his body apart. When they were about ten feet away, the first dog rushed for him, leaping for his throat. It was a Doberman.
Sean twisted the cap of the aerosol and pressed the button. The spray covered the dog’s head, entering its eyes, nose, mouth and ears. In a fraction of a second the dog lost control. Sean sidestepped and it collapsed to the ground. The dog heaved, fighting to draw breath. When the second Doberman saw what was happening, it stopped and looked at Sean for several seconds. It began to growl and Sean gave it a squirt. It whimpered and quickly turned tail.
Sean considered the fallen dog. It would be incapacitated for another twenty minutes. Even if he were to meet it again, he doubted if the dog would have the heart to try another attack.
He began to move quietly through the leafy border when he heard a twig snap. He took cover behind a tree and waited. It would probably be the dog handler, coming to find his dogs. Sean peered around warily, making out the shape of a man in uniform. The man reached for his walkie-talkie.
Sean listened intently as the man made his call. Bursts of static obscured some of the words.
‘… One of them has run back, I’m just …’
The man ended the call and started to move towards the dog behind Sean. He could hear it still making painful snuffling noises. Sean waited, listening as the man’s heavy footsteps crunched the brittle undergrowth. The sound grew louder until Sean judged that the man was opposite his hiding place. He stepped out in front of him.
‘Are you the dogs’ owner?’
The look of astonishment and puzzlement on the man’s face was comical. Sean hit him hard in the midriff. When the man bent over in pain, Sean stepped around and hit him once more over the kidneys. The man sagged to the ground.
He tied the man’s hands and feet together with plasti-cuffs. The guard did not put up any resistance. Finally, he taped over the man’s mouth, careful to ensure he could still breathe through his nose. Sean patted the man down and relieved him of his radio, night stick and ID cards.
He looked around and saw the beginning of a low wall, running from the edge of the trees towards the house. It was three feet high, made of stone, and enclosed a garden where vegetables and flowers grew in profusion. Sean crouched and slipped over the wall, using it to conceal himself from any watchers in the house. He waited a minute before crawling along the base, stopping at a point closest to the house.
Slowly he raised his head. A well manicured lawn was all that stood between him and the house. There was no cover, nor alternative way of approach. As soon as he stepped out on the lawn, he could be seen by anyone inside the house.
The mobile trilled quietly. Lomax took out the phone, registering the fact that London was signalling again. He keyed in a four digit pin decryption code. The text of the message left no room for doubt.
Lomax sighed deeply and tucked the phone away in its holster. He struggled into a spare set of overalls from the back of the car. Taking out the automatic from the glove compartment, he stuffed it into a pocket. He pulled on a dark woollen balaclava, but left it folded up so it came no lower than his forehead. Checking in the mirror, it looked like any other woollen hat. Then he reached down and hid the car keys under the rubber mat.
Lomax went round to the back of the van and brought out a collapsible wooden stool. He unfolded it and positioned it underneath the fence. Looking round for the last time he stepped up onto the stool and stiffly straddled the fence.
Like Sean before him, Lomax waited and listened on the other side. He could hear panting and when he drew closer he saw the dog on its side, still suffering from the effects of the spray.
A little further on Lomax came upon the guard, trussed up and wriggling on the ground. He gave him a cursory glance then stepped around him, following the path Sean had taken.
It took a lot longer than the four seconds delay for a reaction to occur.
First he could hear the sound of coughing and cursing. The door of the guard hut flew open and two men stumbled out, doubled over with the combined effects of the smoke and tear gas. Two minutes later Sean had both trussed up and back in the wooden hut which was now largely free of the gas.
Sean took a last look around the small room. A bench ran along one wall, holding several close circuit monitors. A kettle and coffee percolator perched on a narrow table and Sean could see the remains of the men’s tea.
Sean checked the monitors. Each showed a part of the grounds. While he watched the pictures changed to show another view. Every ten seconds a different view was shown and after a minute the cycle began again. Sean stayed to watch through two cycles, then left for the main house.
Ten seconds afterwards the silhouette of Lomax appeared on one of the screens.
Sean walked around the house, keeping close to the outside wall. He found two windows open, one in the kitchen and another in the dining room. No lights were on and none of the curtains were drawn. Sean confirmed that the outside doors were locked. He assumed that with three guards, two dogs and a closed circuit surveillance system the owner felt he was secure enough.
Well he was about to get a big surprise.
Sean went to the walled garden to fetch a wheelbarrow he had spotted earlier. He parked it underneath the open kitchen window, then put on a pair of surgical gloves from the rucksack. Standing on the barrow he was able to reach in through the fan light and open the bigger window below. He pushed the rucksack through, then climbed in.
He listened carefully before shutting the main window, leaving the fan light just as it was.
He slung the rucksack over one shoulder and set off to explore the ground floor rooms. To the left was an elegant dining room with places set for six people. There was a downstairs toilet off a large hall way and another reception room. The last room he entered appeared to be the office. A solid oak table stood in front of a large bay window. There was a green leather settee with carefully scattered cushions. A man stood waiting, holding a double barrelled shotgun trained on Sean.
Even though he wore a dressing gown, the man was obviously a figure of authority. He had distinguished features and silver grey hair. And he knew how to hold a shotgun, Sean thought. The stock was tucked into his shoulder, the safety catch was off and his finger lay gently across the trigger.
‘Who are you?’ asked the man in a quiet voice. He appeared unafraid.
Sean recognised Dennis Clarke from a photo Lomax had shown him earlier. ‘I’ve come to talk about the Cetus project.’
‘So, you’re not a common burglar, come to steal my money?’