The tail climbed the stairs and was close behind. He kept Swan in his view, as he pretended to browse through some books that had been arranged on a table.
Swan continued through the section, walking up to a bookcase full of titles on American History, then stopped and scanned the titles. At the end of one row, he picked out a particular paperback book and flipped it over to read the back. Satisfied with his choice, he walked over to the counter and presented it to the cashier, made payment, and took the wrapped book. Half shielded by a bookcase, the tail stood and watched as Swan walked over and went back down the stairs. He waited a few moments and then followed. He got himself in view of the ground floor, and caught site of the ex-MI5 man exiting the store.
Back downstairs, he stood just inside watching as Swan stood outside the store looking up the road. Then he saw Swan raise the hand holding the book and a few seconds later, a taxi pulled over to him and stopped.
Swan peered into the driver. ‘Odd request, but I wish to go to Euston, via the Tower of London.’
The taxi driver looked at him as if he was a lost tourist. ‘Are you sure, guv?’
‘I’m sure, if that’s okay with you?’
The driver shook his head. ‘No problem, guv.’ The taxi moved off and as it did so, Swan’s shadow rushed out of Foyles and casually hailed another approaching black taxi. As one pulled in, he stepped inside and leant over to the glass partition. ‘Follow that damn cab will ya,’ said Swan’s frustrated tail in a Californian twang.
Chapter 18
At the same time that Swan had entered the taxi in Charing Cross Road, Howard Barnett gathered his clothes from the small hospital bed cabinet with help from his wife.
He was now ready to go home, and to the annoyance of the hospital staff, had not waited for the doctor and withdrawn himself from their care.
Heidi looked at her watch and closed the small blue suitcase.
‘What time are you meeting with Mr Swan, Howard?’
‘He said he would catch the six o’clock train from London, and be in Carlisle for ten thirty.’
Heidi lifted the suitcase from the bed and gave it to Barnett’s uniformed driver. They all then left the room and made their way to the lift, where Dr Westerham approached them. ‘All set now are we, Mr Barnett? I heard that you discharged yourself, despite my advice.’
Barnett looked up at the flashing red numbers above the lift doors. ‘I can’t see much point staying here Doc, there’s a big flap on at the plant, and I need to be there.’
Westerham frowned. ‘That’s all very well, Mr Barnett, but I would have liked to have given you the once over before discharging you. I won’t argue, but, should you feel unwell, slightest headache, dizziness or feeling sick, I will need you back here immediately. Is that understood?’
Barnett smiled at him. ‘As clear as crystal, Doctor.’
In London, the black taxi containing Alex Swan, cruised past Temple Bar and entered Fleet Street. At Ludgate Circus, it turned left in the direction of St Paul’s Cathedral.
Swan took a discreet glance behind him out of the smoked glass back window and stared at the black taxi which was now following. He smiled to himself, then leant forward and tapped on the partition screen. ‘Excuse me Driver. I’m sorry to have to ask you this, but could you turn and take the most direct route to Euston Station?’
Now even more puzzled, the driver nodded. ‘No problem, guv.’ Curious of the request, the driver glanced at his passenger in the rear view mirror. Who the hell was this bloke? He then checked the road and executed a perfect U turn to head back up Ludgate Hill.
Swan watched the other taxi closely and as the two passed each other, could clearly see his pursuer sitting in the back. For a few seconds their eyes locked. The man gave him a cold stare, and then opened his mouth to talk to his driver.
The other taxi then abruptly stopped and the driver waited for a doubled decked Routemaster bus and two cars to pass, before he swung the taxi around to face the same direction.
Swan knew that this cool customer meant business, and began to wonder if maybe this had anything to do with Frank Maitland.
His taxi continued, entering High Holborn, and then turned right into the Grays Inn Road where Swan spied the The Yorkshire Grey, one of his favourite public houses. He turned to glance behind him at the traffic, predicting that any second, the other taxi would appear. It did, staying tightly behind the bus.
A few minutes had passed and Swan had arrived at the taxi rank of Euston Station. He paid the driver and thanked him, then walked inside to the platform concourse. Glancing at the destination board, he checked the time of his train to Carlisle against his watch, then walked down the ramp along to Platform 4, where the train was already at the platform. The pursuing American agent followed and then halted to watch his target, as he sat on a bench in front of the platform gate. Swan was aware that he was still being watched, and opened the brown paper bag to retrieve the book while The American kept his prey in sight and walked over to a booth of telephones. Still watching Swan, he lifted the receiver and dialed, making two calls. After a short wait on the second call, he spoke.
‘Hi, it’s Anderson here, Swan is about to board a Carlisle train leaving at five eighteen. I think he made me. Gave me a runaround in a taxi. I’ve called Hallum and Lyle, and they will board the train and keep an eye on him. I guess he’s heading your way.’
After making the calls, Anderson sat on the other side of the concourse to watch Swan closely for the next forty five minutes.
Swan looked again at his watch, stood up and walked through the platform gate and after walking for a few moments, opened a door and stepped onto the train.
Back on the platform, Anderson acknowledged the arrival of two men, then walked over to them, as they looked at postcards on a stand. ‘He’s all yours now, boys. Watch him, he’s a pro.’
The two men nodded their heads and turned, heading down to Platform 4, walked through the barrier and opened a door of the first carriage.
Further along, Swan walked down through the carriages and, finding his compartment, nestled into a seat and made himself comfortable.
At 5.15 pm, train driver Robin Waters climbed the fixed ladder of the green and white English Electric Class 55 diesel locomotive, more commonly known as The Deltic, and walked along the footplate to his cab. He placed his thermos flask of steaming hot coffee down on the small table, switched on the engine and then put his head out of the window, at the same time as the guard had blown his whistle and raised his arm to signal the departure of the 17:25 Inter-City express to Carlisle.
Robin checked his watch and pulled on the control leaver, then released the brake. The train departed directly on time, and jerking forward, it moved slowly out of the station, pulling its load.
Four carriages behind him, Alex Swan sat reading The Secret Path, the book that he had purchased back at Foyles. Two compartments down from him, in the same carriage, opposite each other, sat Joe Hallam and Harry Lyle. Hallam leant across to his colleague. ‘The Limey will probably be going all the way to Carlisle. Looks like he may have something, and he’s going for Maitland. I think we should go to the restaurant car and get a bite to eat. The first stop is Rugby so we got plenty of time to fill our stomachs, before he gets a chance to give us the slip.’