Текст книги "Chameleon"

Автор книги: Jackson J. Bentley

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Текущая страница: 24 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

Chapter 6 6

72b The Green, Richmond, London, Saturday 2am.

Maureen Lassiter was dead on her feet. She just wanted to lay her head on her pillow and allow herself to drift off to sleep. She was so tired that she would doze off at the computer, hallucinate and wake up, all in the order of a few seconds. She sipped her strong tepid coffee in the losing battle against fatigue.

The last piece of information she had been pursuing arrived in her inbox; a voice proclaimed “you have mail” and she opened it. Summarising its contents, she added it to her notes for Barry. He was in her bedroom, making yet more calls to people who were distancing themselves from him and his spectacular plummet into oblivion but who were afraid of what he might reveal about them on his way down.

Maureen read her notes:

‘CIA, MI5 and the law enforcement agencies either side of the Atlantic unable, or unwilling to say where Gillian Davis is living. Scotland Yard met with her, as did the FBI but both met her at offices in Richmond, Virginia and her lawyer would not disclose her address, if indeed he knew it.

Amazingly enough the authorities could not find Davis with all of their resources but a private security operative, Dee Hammond did find her, and is probably the only person who does know where she is living.

It was assumed she was living in the Miles home, her Father’s home, but this appears not to be the case; see Gerry’s note.’ Maureen flicked over two pages and found the email from Gerry, MI5’s local contact in Richmond, Virginia.

“Mo. Good to hear from you after such a long while. No-one at Thames House speaks to me anymore – cutbacks? Remind them I’m cheaper than an airfare! Anyway, here we go. All Senators have government approved fast response security systems operated by Wells Fargo and so I rang the control center and assuming the role of the Lynchburg Police Department asked them if an alarm was going off as a neighbour though they heard something as they drove by. Wells Fargo said the house was secure, as far as they could see on their monitors, and that the Senator was away until Tuesday and the house was empty. They reminded me that the Lynchburg PD should be driving by every ninety minutes anyway. So, if your girl is in the area she isn’t staying in the Senator’s house.

Just a thought, if she talked to the Feds in Richmond and her lawyer is in Richmond, well maybe she is in Richmond too. Do you want me to run a credit card check? Let me know, sweetcheeks.

Gerry”

Maureen went back to the notes.

‘Davis is not using any known account or credit cards but this means nothing. She probably has unknown accounts under several aliases, or at least she will have if she learned anything at all in her special services training.

Our only lead to her whereabouts, therefore, is the unlikely Dee Hammond. A Google search showed lots of YouTube hits for the same piece of video, Hammond leading Rob Donkin by the ear to the police. He must be one angry man. Also numerous press reports including the front page of the Sun newspaper reporting that Hammond had partially blinded Donkin when his attack on her backfired. The lunatic had tried to squirt undiluted bleach in Hammond’s eyes. Sick boy.

The night duty operative at Vastrick Security helpfully gave Maureen an emergency number for Hammond which rang through to an answer phone for her Orange Mobile phone number.’

A hack of her mobile phone, courtesy of Sandra in the ‘electronic interception section’ at Thames house, proved most helpful. Maureen owed Sandra dinner at Jamie Oliver’s Fifteen Restaurant in North London. Maureen turned to the intercepts.

“Outgoing text message to Josh Hammond: Know it’s stupid. Outside Chameleon’s place. Need to face her. Can’t settle til I do.”

“Incoming text message from Josh Hammond: Yes it is stupid. She is a killer. I am flying out. Be there Weds’day. Got to finish report. U still at Richmond Downtown Crowne Plaza?”

“No more traffic, D Hammond phone off or out of range.”

At least Maureen had something. If they could persuade Dee Hammond to tell them the whereabouts of Davis, Barry could track her down and force her to make good their loss. After all, she’d had almost three million pounds in her account before it had been moved. She could afford it.

That money in the Isle of Man had been their nest egg; they could get away together if they had that cash. Maureen shuddered involuntarily at the thought of Barry’s behaviour towards her earlier. He had brutalised her – rape wouldn’t be too strong a word. But he was under extreme pressure. When they were together, relaxing, having retired from this madness, he would be OK. He wouldn’t hurt her then. No, it was just the circumstances, she convinced herself. She hadn’t seen the signs, and so it was partially her fault, anyway. She would have to be more careful.

***

Barry sat alone in the living room of the small garden flat which overlooked the green. Maureen had gone to bed. This tiny space in a Victorian building in Richmond would raise almost three hundred thousand pounds when it was sold, and even in a depressed housing market it would be sold within a week. Maureen had furnished it well; it was light and airy, the furniture modern and the artwork colourful. The pale deep pile carpet offered a soft contrast to the hard edges of the stainless steel and glass coffee table and bookshelves. The irony was that the flat could have been designed by his wife. Everything in it was exactly to her taste. Barry wondered for a moment whether the decor said anything about his taste in women.

His mobile phone rang; it was nearly three in the morning now.

“Barry, I’ll give you this and then don’t ever call me again. OK?”

“Of course not. I’m out of the game after this,” Barry lied.

“Donkin is in room 417.1 in that private hospital at London Bridge. His bills are being paid by that celebrity publicist. The police will present him before magistrates as soon as he gets out, and I guess he’ll go down, but the publicist will get a few good stories out first. The word on the ward is that he’s faking total blindness to avoid the inevitable arrest and confinement in a place less comfortable than the London Bridge Hospital.”

Barry had a plan. Now he could go to bed and sleep for a few hours.

Chapter 6 7

Room 417.1, London Bridge Hospital, London, Saturday 8am.

“How do I know I can trust you?” Donkin asked. “You might be working with the police.”

Barry Mitchinson came to the conclusion that this man was even more stupid than the press alleged, but he kept his opinions to himself. He wanted to slap the celebrity wannabe, but he knew that he had to be kind. He wanted to tell the young man that he wasn’t even important enough to warrant a part time police guard. He was a nobody.

“Look, Rob, I’ve explained my plan to you. You help me and you get what you’ve always wanted. The alternative is that you stay in here, playing at being blind until the medics get fed up and sell you out to the police. Then it’s going to be arrest, remand, court and prison. Tell me you’re not interested and I’ll leave you alone. You can send me a postcard from the Scrubs!”

Rob’s eyes were heavily bandaged and he looked every bit the blinded, vulnerable, misunderstood boy he pretended to be. He knew, however, that Barry was right. Although he denied it to sceptical doctors, he could see a good deal better now. He reckoned that he had recovered about seventy percent of his sight already. His main problem was his central vision; he still had black spots there and blurring around those black spots. Nonetheless, he could get around safely, and Barry’s plan had two advantages – reuniting him with his girl friend, and a flight out of the country, taking him away from the threat of prosecution. His publicist would be mad as hell, but he wasn’t the one who had to worry about going to prison.

Rob clambered out of his bed with Barry’s help, and slipped on a dressing gown. As they walked along the corridor the nurse approached him.

“This is much better, Rob. You needed to get out of that bed.”

“I’m just heading to the lounge where my Uncle and I can get some coffee and talk,” he lied, with a total lack of conviction.

“Well, Uncle, take care of him. He needs his family to lift his spirits. Not surprisingly he’s been a little bit depressed, but he will recover his sight in due course. There’s really no need to worry.” The nurse hurried on to another patient.

***

Once they were alone, Barry removed the bandages and gave Rob a pair of sunglasses which concealed his oddly coloured, creamy looking eyes and some of the skin burns. After changing into the ill fitting clothing which Barry had provided, Rob donned a beanie hat and they simply walked out of the hospital unchallenged and into a taxi.

***

By the time Donkin and his new protector had arrived at Maureen Lassiter’s apartment they had already collected a few of the young man’s belongings from his own tawdry apartment.

“As you both have current ESTAs I have been able to book you onto a flight to New York. You can’t fly until tomorrow because of the twenty four hour Advanced Passenger Information System requirements.

At JFK Airport you will pick up a minivan with fold down seats. That should suit your needs.”

Donkin sat on the sofa listening to his iPod, a wet flannel over his aching eyes. Barry talked quietly to Maureen Lassiter.

“Get the flat on the market immediately and make sure you turn up for work as normal. I may need you there. Don’t give any indication that you may leave, or Five will reduce your security access even further.

I’ll be back from the States in a few days, and we need to be ready to move quickly.” Barry looked over at Donkin before whispering, “I don’t think Rob will be making the return journey. He may find himself sharing a grave with Gillian Davis.”

Maureen looked shocked. She hadn’t anticipated any more killing, but she knew that arguing with Barry was fruitless. Once they had the money and were well away from here they could put all the violence behind them.

***

Because the doctors didn’t make their rounds on a Saturday, Rob’s absence from the hospital wasn’t noticed until evening medications. The charge nurse, under explicit instructions from the man paying the hospital bills, reported the absence to the high profile celebrity publicist.

“Do nothing for the time being,” the maddened publicist said. “He’ll be out drinking. I’ll track him down and have him in his bed by the time the doctors come around Monday morning. OK?”

“OK,” the nurse answered doubtfully, “but if he isn’t in his room by Monday morning I have to call the police!”

Chapter 6 8

Miles Estate, Lynchburg, Virginia, Saturday 7am.

Steve Post drove into the rear driveway of the Miles Estate along the unmade road leading to the Lodge, which was set well back from the main house. He parked behind a well-used Chevy Tahoe and climbed out of his government issued SUV.

As he walked towards the door he unclipped the holster under his jacket and made sure that his Glock handgun was easily accessible. He rapped on the old wooden door. A few moments passed and eventually a bleary eyed Gillian Davis-Miles answered his knock.

Steve held out his commission card and badge, both contained in a small leather wallet, and gave his name.

“What have I done to deserve a visit from the FBI at the crack of dawn?” she asked.

“I’m looking for Dee Hammond, a compatriot of yours.”

He was about to continue when the door opened wide and Gil invited him in with a smile and a sweep of her hand. Steve stepped inside and saw Dee sitting on large sofa, tapping away on a laptop. Dee looked as surprised to see him as he was to see her sitting comfortably in the company of Gil Davis.

“Your husband is beside himself with worry. He asked me to track you down.”

“Why didn’t he call?” She knew the answer when she saw that she had no signal, and a series of red symbols and words told her that there was insufficient battery power for radio use.

“It took me all night to try to get the powers that be to agree to me calling in on the Senator’s daughter unannounced. In the end they refused me permission. So let me tell you, if anyone gets to hear about this I’ll shoot you both.” He was clearly angry, but Dee understood that he must have been very concerned about her safety.

Gil invited Steve to sit down and she poured him a coffee, delivering it to him before sitting opposite on the sofa.

“It’s nice to see that you two are now friends!” His acerbic tone revealed his disappointment in Dee, as it was meant to.

“Not so much friends as non combatant enemies,” Gil added helpfully.

Steve looked from one to the other and shook his head.

“Look, it’s none of my business, and maybe things are not as cosy as they look just now, so you can tell me to butt out if you want. But I need to understand what has gone on here that makes it possible for you two to sit in the same room without killing one another.”

Dee explained the night’s events and Gil’s admissions, before accepting that she had been inconsiderate if not downright rude for not ensuring that she remained in contact. Steve was appeased but suggested that he and Dee should make tracks to his house, where his wife was going to prepare a Saturday morning brunch.

Gil didn’t have to ask whether she was invited; the look on Steve’s face when he looked at her was comment enough.

***

Dee followed Steve to his house in her hire car. The Chrysler was warm and comfortable and she started to drift. Shaking herself awake, she touched a button on the console which now housed her phone, and said ‘Home’ loudly. The phone started dialling the UK.

Josh did not sound unduly angry or worried when he spoke to her, and accepted Dee’s apology graciously before moving on to explain that Tom Vastrick had agreed that Dee needed some time off and that if Josh came to the US they could spend some time at his ranch. He told her he would be there by Wednesday evening. Dee was excited, but also a little annoyed that her husband had contacted her boss directly. It suggested that everyone believed her to be too closely involved in the case. When she examined her own behaviour through their eyes, she realised that they were right. She had been on a mission to track down and hurt, possibly even kill, Gil Davis. Perhaps she needed that break, after all.

***

The brunch was as delightful as it was tasty. Pancakes accompanied both sweet and savoury dishes, and a few of Steve’s buddies turned up, as did some of their church friends. Dee’s spirits were lifted higher than they had been for some time by the jollity and humour of her fellow brunchers. One of the guys attending moved through the group, leaving laughter in his wake. Dee thought he might be a stand up comedian. He wasn’t; he was a clergyman. She couldn’t help but wonder what his sermons must be like. When Reverend Casterton left her laughing about his experiences as an American student of Theology in Cambridge, his position at the kitchen counter was soon filled by Steve.

“Sorry about this morning, Dee. I was just so worried. I’m still convinced that Gillian Miles is capable of killing without a second thought, and that will be hugely dangerous here in the US where she has powerful protectors.”

“Oddly enough, I’m not so sure,” Dee observed. “She’s undoubtedly lost, she’s undoubtedly amoral, but somewhere inside that body is a kid who never grew up. I wanted to kill her when I turned up at her cabin yesterday, but now I just want to see her get treatment.” She paused as she swilled some fruit punch around in her glass. “I don’t buy the government trained killer thing; she killed long before anyone asked her to kill for them. She told me that it was self defence, plain and simple, when she killed the first time, but she sought the man out and she was carrying a rifle. It wasn’t just revenge. I don’t think she knows herself why she acts the way she does. She seems to operate on an instinct for self preservation.” Dee realised that the smile had slipped from her face. “Come on, Steve, I want to hear some more of those funny stories that have been circulating all morning.”

“Dee, don’t go near that woman again.” Steve was serious.

“I won’t. I think I can live with it now. I’m just going to chill out in the Hotel spa and watch old movies until Josh arrives.”

Chapter 6 9

Brown University, Providence, Rhode Island, USA,

Monday 31 ^st January, 9am.

Katie’s security arrangements were quite straightforward, as she was living on campus for the first year of her course. Her accommodation was a simple dorm room on the first floor with a self contained kitchen area and bathroom. The single large room incorporated a bed and clothes storage on one wall, with a desk and study area on the opposite wall. TVs and music systems had to be accommodated in these small spaces and so students tended to have iPod docks and small flat TVs mounted on the wall opposite the bed. This was the arrangement Katie had inherited and maintained. The small kitchen area was equipped with a fridge under a counter, a toaster and kettle on the counter top and a microwave oven built in above. There was no oven or hotplate. The bathroom had a shower, W.C. and wash basin; if a bath was needed, the tub was down the hall. Any laundry had to be carried out in the basement at weekends, when there was usually a mad rush for machines.

Deanna Pope, her minder, was accommodated across the hallway in the same type of room. Katie could summon Deanna at any time with a single press of a preset key on her mobile phone. The college security desk in the entrance to the dorm block was already manned twenty four hours a day. This arrangement enabled Katie to enjoy a significant amount of freedom around campus without an oppressive security presence.

Katie’s room looked out over a beautifully maintained square of lawn with bare trees. The lawn was coated in frost this morning as Katie prepared for her Psychology lecture. Deanna tapped on the door at around nine, and the two young women walked down the stairs and out into the cold winter morning.

***

The routine walk around the main campus building was watched carefully by two men sitting in a minivan which carried a printed sheet in the windscreen showing a brown bear below the word BROWN and above “On Hire to Ladies Volleyball Team”.

The men were refreshed, having arrived in the US mid afternoon yesterday and sleeping from around 9pm to 6am. The journey from Heathrow had proven uneventful, as Barry had expected. They had sailed through passport control at both ends of the journey. Clearly, neither country had yet been made aware of Rob Donkin’s disappearance. Even if they had been made aware, an absconder who had yet to be formally tried would be unlikely to raise any alarm. Barry wasn’t playing the odds. He was well aware that in the UK every day hundreds of serious offenders fail to turn up for their court hearings, and many are never even pursued, as the police just do not have the manpower. To place them all on travel watch lists would be impractical.

The two men watched the girls enter the main building and then jumped out of the van and walked towards their rehearsed positions.

***

Katie pushed open the door to the lecture hall and allowed her friends to precede her, before nodding to Deanna who mouthed silently, “See you here after class.”

***

The cold weather and the full class schedule served to keep the grounds clear of students, and so Deanna’s journey back to the dorm room was quiet and uneventful until she rounded the corner of the old brick building. She then had twenty or so yards to cover before she could enjoy the warmth of the foyer and her morning coffee and chat with Jake on security.

An untidy, balding man with a purposeful stride huddled in a heavy overcoat, walked towards her. Deanna was immediately wary as she could not imagine why a man of his years would be leaving the girls’ dorm rooms so early in the morning.

“Excuse me, Miss, I think you may have dropped this?”

Deanna turned to look behind her, where a younger man was jogging up the path towards her, holding out a small bunch of keys. In a second she weighed up the situation. A young man in dark glasses on a murky morning was distracting her, whilst another man, out of place on campus, approached from behind.

Deanna withdrew her pepper spray, keeping it concealed in her hand, and turned to face the older man, who had made up a lot of ground in the few seconds she had been facing the other way. She lifted her hand and squirted him in the face with the spray. His hands flew to his face as he tried to protect his eyes. Deanna then turned to the boy, who now looked scared and who was beginning to back off. For a moment his panic and fear convinced her that she had overreacted, but by the time she considered the possibility a smooth fist sized rock crashed into her skull from behind. Deanna would be unconscious for an hour or two, and insensible for the rest of the day.

***

As she fell to the floor, Rob Donkin laid her on her side as they had planned. Barry was to head off to the main building, whilst Rob was to report to security that a lady had slipped and banged her head and needed an ambulance.

Whilst Barry was still blinded by the spray, Donkin spotted a holster under Deanna’s jacket. Unseen by Mitchinson, he lifted the loaded pistol from the holster and tucked it behind him into the waistband of his jeans. No-one would argue with him now, he thought.

It took a minute or two, but Barry Mitchinson eventually got back to the car, where he sprayed his eyes with bottled water. By the time he had recovered, he could hear the sound of sirens. An ambulance was approaching. Donkin had done his job well. The younger man arrived back at the van and climbed into the driver’s seat.

“OK, old timer, time for your performance,” he said, with a lack of respect that Barry intended to punish in due course.

***

Katie Norman was listening attentively to her lecturer when she heard a disturbance behind her. The doors had opened and an apologetic middle aged man appeared at the top of the stairs. The lecturer stopped speaking and looked directly at the interloper.

“I need to speak to Miss Katie Norman about Miss Deanna Pope. I’m afraid there has been an accident.”

Katie stood immediately and gathered up her books, looking clearly worried but hoping that the accident hadn’t been a serious one. The lecturer urged her to attend to the problem and return when she was able.

Katie and Barry stood outside the closed lecture room door.

“I assume you heard the ambulance sirens? “

Katie nodded.

“Well, Jake at security found Deanna Pope of Vastrick Security on the ground outside the dormitory. She had fallen and hit her head. She was unconscious as the ambulance left.”

Katie looked concerned and panicky.

“As you probably know, I head up college security,” Barry told her. Katie didn’t know – how could she – but she nodded anyway. “Vastrick asked me if I could either stay with you or take you to the hospital to be with Deanna until they could get a replacement sent out. Do you wish to stay here and attend your lecture with me at the door, or do you want to follow the ambulance?”

“I want to go with Deanna; she’s my friend as well as everything else.” Katie had not thought to wonder why the college would have a security manager with an English accent. She was too worried about her friend to have even noticed.

“I have the college minibus outside, if that would be OK?” Barry asked. But he need not have worried. Katie was already on her way out of the building.

***

Katie jumped up into her seat behind the driver and Barry closed the door. He climbed in the other side of the van and slid over beside Katie.

“Donald, to the hospital, please.”

Maybe it was auto suggestion at the mention of the word hospital, but she thought she could smell that familiar hospital aroma in the van. In a swift move the man beside her grabbed the back of her head and clamped a damp cloth over her face. She tried not to breathe in. She knew now what was happening but she was unable to resist, and the chloroform did its work.

The van left the campus and headed to Virginia on the Interstate, in the opposite direction from the hospital.