Linda smiled gently.
“No joke Philip, we… that is I, need your help. You see… ”
She wrapped her arms tightly around Stone.
“We’re in love and we’re going to get married, but my ex just won’t accept that it’s over. He’s a thug, and he and his friends are following us — they’re in the parking lot now, but we lost them. We really need a lift.”
Linda saw that Philip was starting to weaken.
“If you can help us, we would be so grateful.”
Stone waved the cash again.
“Five hundred quid grateful and you get the Toyota to drive.”
“Carefully,” Linda added.
“Five hundred quid?”
Philip was staring at the money and licking his lips.
She jiggled the keys again.
“The GT86 is the hottest car on the streets right now — the girls are going to love it!”
Philip looked at the cash and the car keys. His eyes slowly came up towards Linda. In return, she beamed her brightest smile — it was impossible to resist.
“What would I have to do?”
Now Stone smiled.
“Take us out the back door and drive us to Sawbridgeworth — it’s that simple. You can drop us at the cab stand at the station. Then come straight back to work. The cash is yours right now. Here… ”
Stone handed over the money. It vanished into Philip’s pocket.
“From tomorrow you get to use the Toyota — they may still be watching it today. Do we have a deal?”
Philip nodded.
“Deal.”
Philip’s car was parked in a secure staff area near the delivery bays, so they had no problem getting in without being seen. Nevertheless, Linda and Eric lay flat on the rear seats, until they were well clear of the area. From the railroad station in Sawbridgeworth, they took a cab ride to a reputable used car dealer that Linda knew of. They had planned to buy a used car, but insuring it would have put them on a database somewhere. At the same time, they couldn’t run the risk of the car being identified as uninsured, by the police license plate scanning computers. After some negotiating, and for just two thousand pounds, they were able to ‘borrow’ a suitably reliable, insured, and relatively inconspicuous Audi A4.
Their next stop was at a large discount retailer where they spent another £500 of Anton Stephens’ drug money. They bought clothes, shoes, toiletries, and a set of three suitcases. After a quick bar meal, they drove south for fifty miles to Epping, where they found a small and inconspicuous family run motel. They checked in as Mr. and Mrs. Jones. Stone paid cash in advance for three nights in a double room, with an en-suite bathroom, and full English breakfast. The elderly receptionist accepted their money with a knowing smile, born of years of experience and discretion.
The room was simplistic, but clean and functional. There was a television, a mini bar and a kettle, which they could use — and a phone and Wi-Fi connection, which they couldn’t. Once they were settled, Linda sent Megan another cryptic text message, reporting that they had landed safely. Stone carefully went through all of their purchases to check for any security tags, or RF chips. Finally, they stripped off their grubby second-hand suits and took a long shower together. Afterwards, they lay in each other’s arms and slept.
The sun was up when they were woken by the cell phone ringing. It was Ed Carter, and he had news.
The Fixer was annoyed. Time was running out, he could see that from the report Becka had just placed on his desk. He could see that it was time to run, but he couldn’t go without his money — he wouldn’t go. His broker was supposedly doing his best to liquidate the assets. He had told The Fixer, ‘These things take time — what with money laundering regulations and national holidays to contend with’, but The Fixer was convinced that he was up to something. The man was a greedy bastard of the lowest kind. He was probably trying to play hard and dirty, in the hope of gaining some extra commission. The only compensation was that his broker was now on the growing list of people that were about to die.
Becka coughed politely, causing The Fixer to look up in surprise. He had forgotten that she was waiting for his permission to speak. He waved a beckoning hand for her to continue.
“Ok Boss, here’s what we know so far.”
She began to summarize from her report.
“Eric Stone, the karate instructor from Colchester, was definitely friends with Charles Rathbone. It’s reasonable to surmise that Rathbone may have acquired some knowledge of the Wrecking Crew, and shared that information with Stone. We now know that Stone has worked with a former police officer called Ed Carter. Carter runs a small but efficient private detective agency. We’ve been following both Stone and Carter for a couple of days. Carter has been going about his regular business. This week he’s been investigating a football club manager who may have been embezzling funds, and photographing the unfaithful wife of a TV celebrity — all boring stuff.
Stone’s been out and about, with his pretty little girlfriend Linda Smart. They’ve been up to no good, sticking their noses where they don’t belong. Most noticeably, last night they broke into our Second Chances office.”
The Fixer sat bolt upright in shock. With an eye on self-preservation, Becka ignored his reaction.
“The watchers saw them snooping around and decided that it was time to act.”
Becka braced herself for what was coming.
“They called the Manager back and sent him in with a gun.”
The Fixer’s face turned white with anger. He spoke very slowly, his voice almost a whisper.
“They sent someone without my permission?”
Becka sighed and shrugged.
“Somehow Stone got the better of the Manager — broke his arm and took the gun away. Luckily the weapon was unused and untraceable.”
The Fixer said nothing. Becka took a deep breath before continuing. She knew that The Fixer was not above killing the messenger — both figuratively and literally.
“Regrettably that’s not all of the bad news. I’ve just heard that our team has lost contact with Stone and Smart. They may have gone to ground.”
He slammed his hand on the desk, making Becka squeal involuntarily.
“How the hell did that happen?”
“They went to the movies in Harlow, and they didn’t come out. They simply vanished. Linda Smart’s car is still in the parking lot, but they are both missing.”
“Goddammit!”
“One of our guys was in the theater. He was found unconscious and badly concussed. He’s in the hospital at the moment; we haven’t had a chance to speak to him yet.”
Becka pulled a face that she hoped would convey that she was equally disappointed, but in no way to blame.
“We had a pick up scheduled for tomorrow. I’ve sent Peter White to do it, just in case someone is still watching Second Chances.”
The Fixer nodded, suddenly calm again.
“Good thinking, Becka. Anything else?”
“Well, I have some good news,” she said, trying to emphasize that she was still performing acceptably.
“Go on.”
“I think I’ve located our internet ghost.”
“Oh, well done!”
She smiled proudly.
“The day before yesterday, Stone and Smart went to an address in Harlow. At face value, they were visiting some morbidly obese woman called Catherine Dama. She keeps cats, and does some work for Carter — filing court papers, processing photographs and maintaining his website. Carter has a secretary but she’s strictly old school — just paper and filing cabinets.”
The Fixer waved his hand in a gesture of impatience. Becka pressed on.
“Anyway, to cut a long story short. I noticed something odd. There’s a lot of web traffic to and from the address they visited, but it’s all encrypted — I mean, really encrypted. Then I remembered that there used to be a fat girl who worked at GCHQ and she kept a lot of cats. I heard that she left to start her own internet security firm. Her name was Megan Smith, and she was very, very good.”