With a puzzled look on his face, Swan tore open the telegram and read the contents to himself.
ALEX — STOP — RAF TECHNICIAN HAS CONFIRMED TRANSPORTER FOR SECOND BR-101 DID NOT HAVE ACCIDENT — STOP.- SMALL EXPLOSIVE DEVICE WAS USED TO SABOTAGE TRAILER- STOP — BIG FLAP NOW ON AT MINISTRY- STOP — FIVE ALSO ON THE CASE — DISPATCHING AGENTS TO BRINTONS TOMORROW AND HAVE ALSO TAKEN POSSESSION OF THE REMAINS OF DEVICE — STOP — REGARDS HAMMER — STOP
Gable suddenly noticed a look of disbelief on his associate’s face. Swan handed him the telegram, and after reading it, Gable suddenly knew why. ‘Good God!’
Swan took it back and stared at it again. ‘Looks like our suspicions are correct, Arthur. When HB finds out, he’s certainly not going to be too happy with the Yanks.’
‘What shall we do, sir?’
Swan thought about this for a few moments. ‘If MI5 are sending agents, I will lay odds on that Stratton will be involved. He’ll recognise me straightaway, which could put us in a bit of a predicament, not to mention of course the trouble Higgins will be in if they investigate into how we got our passes. I think it may be best if we make ourselves scarce first thing tomorrow and catch an earlier train. We’ll let Five do their snooping around and then arrange a meet with HB afterwards. If the Americans are involved, then they will have their hands full convincing Five that they had no part in it.’
Swan suddenly remembered something else. ‘One other thing, Maitland’s ring, did you notice it Arthur?’
Gable shook his head.
‘Er ‘fraid not sir.’
‘It was an Eagle with a spear in its talons,’ answered Swan.
‘What does it mean?’ enquired Gable.
‘Not sure. I have seen it before somewhere, but I cannot seem to remember where it was.’
Swan was suddenly bothered by the symbol and became agitated with not being able to remember.
‘I have a friend at Grosvenor Square, his name is Clinton Sanger, ex CIA, now in charge of the embassy’s archives. I think he may be able to help us.’
He moved towards the door. ‘Come on Arthur, let’s not waste any more time here, we’ll get back to the hotel and get the train back tonight.’
Howard Barnett turned off his office desk lamp, put away his trademark gold pencil and walked over to the coat stand. Removing his brown overall, he hung it on the hook, then exited his office and locked the door.
In the reception area, Security Officer Bill Wright was on night time duty at the desk. Barnett smiled at him as he handed him the keys. ‘Anything good planned for the evening, sir?’ Wright asked the Chief Engineer.
Barnett shrugged. ‘Not really, Bill. Mrs Barnett is at her WI meeting tonight, so I will take the dog for a quick walk on the heath and then come back and tuck into a heated up hot pot that she’s left for me, then I’m afraid I’ll be working on my report for the White Paper.’
Wright nodded. ‘Then goodnight sir, and try not to work too hard,’ gestured the guard.
‘I’m afraid it looks like I will have to, if I want to save her from the axe of the new Government Bill.’
Barnett walked outside to the car park and opened the door of his Austin A40. Sitting inside, he turned the ignition key, switched on the headlights and reversed out of his space and towards the main gate. Noticing the car the guard looked relaxed, casually lifting the barrier and waving to the Chief Designer.
The Austin turned on to the main road into a dusky evening light. As he drove, Barnett looked at his watch, and noticing it was 7.00 pm, turned on his car radio and listened to the BBC news broadcast. As he drove, immersing himself in the bulletins emitting from his speaker, he didn’t take much notice of two headlights keeping a distance behind him as he headed towards Ellenborough. On arrival at his property he entered it between two concrete pillars, topped with leaping stone lions and stopped in front of a green painted garage door. He got out of the car and locked it, then walked across the path to the side door of the whitewashed walled house. He unlocked the door and went inside, where he was suddenly greeted with the two great paws of Jerry, his pet Springer Spaniel.
As he closed the door to the outside, a light shone briefly on the exterior as a car slowly passed the house and continued up the hill. Barnett collected the mail that had been left on the shelf in the hall by his wife, and walked upstairs. Half way up, he was almost toppled by an excited Jerry.
‘Careful dog!’ he shouted as the dog briskly bounded the stairs before him. ‘Calm down lad, I’ll take you on the heath in a minute.’
Frank Maitland raged at Brannigan across the desk of The Pentagram. ‘Say what?’
Brannigan began to look sheepish as he explained his actions to his chief. ‘I decided to take some pressure off ya, and put some guys onto Barnett, before he blabs off to the Limey agents being sent up here tomorrow. We’re using the kid as collateral, saying that if he keeps his mouth shut, nothing will happen to his boy.’
Maitland sat down to recollect his thoughts. ‘Who’s gone after him?’
Brannigan smiled. ‘I sent Tom and Will. I decided to give him a field job as something different.’
Maitland’s eyes quickly widened. ‘Jesus Christ, Jake! You sent a Ranger to deal with the old guy?’
Brannigan baulked. ‘Well, I thought it would be a good thing to have a tough guy with Tom.’
Maitland stared out the office window into the assembly hangar. ‘When did they go?’
‘They followed him when he left at Nineteen Hundred hours.’
Maitland looked dejected. ‘I guess it’s too late now, all we can do is hope he sees straight and plays with us.’
Barnett changed from a business suit to a casual checked shirt and brown corduroy trousers, then went into his kitchen to turn on the gas in the oven to a low heat. He opened the oven door, smiling at how good the mixture of meat and vegetables looked in the white ceramic oval dish and closed the oven. He then walked over to the back door and reached for a dog lead as Jerry sat at the other end of the kitchen, wagging his tail in anticipation. ‘Come on then lad, just a quick one on the heath.’
The Springer Spaniel bounded over to him, allowing his master to clip the lead to his collar. They exited the back door and walked down the drive and out on to the pavement.
Jerry led, as Barnett was pulled by the already panting dog up the hill. Two men in a Black Ford Zephyr sat patiently as Barnett and his dog walked past them. They studied him as he walked up the hill to disappear down a footpath that led to the heathland.
Once Barnett was over a short stile, he reached a clearing. He stopped to unclip the lead, enabling Jerry to scamper off into the setting sun. He then took out his pack of cigarettes and lighting one, stood smoking it.
For a minute he thought he heard crunching on the gravel footpath behind him, and turned, almost jumping with fear, as two shadowy figures appeared and climbed over the stile, then moved towards him.
For a few seconds he stood staring at them, then greeted them with a nod of his head, attempting to make casual conversation with the men. He thought that they may be taking the short cut to The Pheasant, his local pub.
‘Evening gents, nice night for it.’ He noticed that they stood their ground. ‘Can I help you chaps?’
‘Hi, Howard,’ said the taller of the two men. ‘Just thought we would have a little talk with ya about something.’
Barnett instantly recognised an American accent and started to become irritable, throwing down his half used cigarette and stamping on it. ‘What the hell is this all about? So Maitland sent his bully boys after me, did he?’