To Kill a Grey Man (21 page)

However, any time now The Enforcer would be coming back and that
would leave The Assassin in the middle.

He tried to stall waiting for Keith Poole to return.
 
“Look,” he said.
 
“Can we discuss this?”

“No,” said The Assassin standing just as calmly.
 
“And please do not wait for your man to
return.
 
By now he will be lying broken
on the ground.”

John Sea went for his gun and The Assassin drew the Glock and shot
him through the heart before John Sea’s gun had cleared the holster.
 
What John Sea did not know and therefore had
not factored in, was The Assassin had been ambidextrous all his long life.

The Assassin took one step forward and before John Sea had collapsed
he drew the elephant pistol and blew John Sea’s head off his shoulders so it
decorated the glass wall of his office.

Surge entered the room as the boom echoed taking in the decapitated
body.
 
“Take these to The Grey Man,” said
The Assassin closing the suitcases.
 
“I will
be along presently.”

The Assassin called up The Grey Man and told him to drive round as
quick as possible.
 
The cases weighed a
ton and Surge struggled to the front door carrying them, finally calling up
Jonathan to come and help him.

Collins rushed down to the kitchen.
 
He took a carving knife and cut all the gas
hoses to the cooker.
 
He then rushed
upstairs to various rooms that had gas heaters and slashed as many pipes as he
could find.
 
Finally he went to the front
door.
 
The others were in the car ready to
go.
 
He reached into the boot and from
his
holdall
produced a flash bang.
 
He pulled the wire and threw it through the
front door.
 
The ‘
whump
’
as the gas ignited blew him from his feet and he landed flat on his back.
 
Surge jumped out of the car to help him up
and they both stood there for a while bathed in the red and yellow glow as the
hotel started to go up in flames.

“Let’s move,” shouted The Grey Man and they got into the car.
 
Jonathan gunned the engine and they snaked
down the gravel drive with the wheels spinning accompanied by a large explosion
as the gas line started to take control.

Chapter 26

Cleaning Up

Collins was driving a large white van with an extension arm and lift
on the roof with the markings on the side showing the legend, ‘
Department of Pollution
Control, Air Purity Section’
.
 
He had been driving throughout the area in
green overalls and a yellow hard hat and at various lamp posts had climbed into
the lift and had attached a small mass flow meter and anemometer on to the top
of them.
 
The mass flow meter was solar
powered and could measure air velocity, air pressure and temperature which when
calculated together measure the mass of the air.
 
The anemometer would show wind direction.
 
Once he was satisfied he had a good spread
attached to a number of lamp posts over a five mile radius he drove up into the
hills, over a cattle grid and into a small national park where cows, deer and
small ponies were allowed to roam free.
 
He stopped the van and took out a spade, some ready mixed cement and
some twelve inch long, one inch diameter round steel tubing.
 
He walked through the trees and up a steep
hill.
 
At the top he looked around to
ensure he was on his own and then he pulled away some bracken and underneath he
found the trench he had dug yesterday.
 
He
dropped his stuff and then went back to fetch a big canister of water.
 
He looked around.
 
The view was spectacular, all rolling hills
and green fields and in the distance various large houses and farms.
 
He mixed the cement with the water in the
trench.
 
It was fast acting and after
twenty minutes he carefully placed the steel rods in, two and half feet apart,
using an angle iron to ensure they were as straight as he could get them.
 
Once the cement had set, he tested the steel
tubes and found they would not move.
 
He
covered everything up again and then went down the hill back to the van.

The Director General, Sir Wynn Summer, was a big, bright man of Welsh
decent but he had almost lost the accent after over forty years of horse trading
in Whitehall.
 
A consummate politician he
was at the highest point that an executive officer can attain and he operated
at a Permanent Secretary level and was one of the mandarins in London that held
all the power.
 
He knew everyone of any
high rank in the government and was well respected.
 
He had known The Grey Man for many years and
had used his amazing information skills to his advantage more times than he
could remember.
 
This meant of course The
Grey Man knew where all the bodies were buried so when he took the call last
week he was not shocked.
 
Normally a DG
would not get involved in a Secret Service matter and Sir Wynn had no wish
to swap swords with Sir Thomas but when The Grey Man called, no matter who you
were, you listened.
 

Which is why he found himself down a dark alley near
Waterloo Station at 7.00 am on a freezing cold morning all alone.
 
He was told to wait at the
corner of two streets
intersecting
 
at
an angle, which he assumed gave
whoever was watching better visibility to see if he was alone, and he would be
contacted.
 
After ten minutes a black taxi
came by.
 
It circled the area and then
stopped, “Going somewhere?” said the driver.

“No.
 
I am fine,” was Wynn’s
reply until he saw in the back seat the small shape of The Grey Man.
 
He had nearly missed
him,
such was The Grey Man’s ability to blend in.

Sir Wynn climbed into the cab and sat next to The Grey Man.
 
They shook hands and Collins drove off.
 
Over the next twenty minutes The Grey Man handed
over a report and went through the whole operation explaining fully
Sir Thomas Robertson’s involvement.

“But have you any real proof?” said Sir Wynn.

“No,” said The Grey Man.
 
“He
has been very clever in not writing anything down.
 
We do have various telephone times and dates
when he talked to John Sea and we know when he met with him and where.
 
We also have been able to track the young doctor
that first discovered I had an eye problem.
 
We’ve contacted him on a ship to shore radio to confirm Sir Thomas knew
all about my illness plus the orders he gave to stop me leaving the country, but
no smoking gun I am afraid.
 
Please
though, make no
mistake,
there is no question that Sir
Thomas instigated this whole affair and a lot of men, albeit bad men have been
killed trying to satisfy his ambitions.”

“Look,” said Wynn.
 
“I believe
you.
 
I can clear your names and your
associates completely and ensure word of this does not leak to our
neighbours
or the cousins which would damage this country
but to do that I will not be able to just sack Sir Thomas nor can I send
him to prison.
 
The best I could hope for
would be his complete silence and for him to step down and leave the secret
world behind.
 
If that happened and he
was no more danger to you, would you be satisfied?”

“I think we would,” said The Grey Man.
 
“In his corrupt, stupid way he was trying to
do what he thought was best for Britain but he must walk away from our world
completely.
 
Agreed?”

They let Wynn out near the Houses of Parliament.
 
He was going to consult with the Prime Minister
and other members of the Cabinet and would contact The Grey Man shortly
with their final decision.

Two days later, Collins and Surge drove into the park in a green Land
Rover with
Park Inspector
neatly sign
written on both doors.
 
They both wore a
uniform of a green waterproof mackintosh, stout boots with long thick walking
socks and brown corduroy trousers with the bottoms tucked into the socks.
 
On their heads were identical flat tweed caps.
 
Out of the back of the Land Rover, they
pulled out a large case and a long, thick cardboard tube which was quite heavy.
 
They locked the vehicle and climbed up the
steep hill to the concealed trench carrying everything between them.
 
Surge looked around to ensure no one was in
the vicinity and then pulled back the bracken.
 
A soft rain was falling and the sky was grey and overcast.

In the eight foot long tube, very neatly packed, was a large gun
barrel and a telescopic sight.
 
Surge removed
the gun barrel.
 
On
the top was a conventional slide and handle to place in the round but no
cocking mechanism, instead a cable ran from the end with a military grade
electrical socket.

Collins opened the case.
 
Inside
was
a military waterproof laptop computer and a number
of other gadgets.
 
First he slipped two
small clamps over the barrel, each complete with a number of tiny servo motors
mounted on each side and a socket.
 
The
socket clicked into the two steel tubes set in the concrete and held the barrel
firm.
 
He connected the wires from this
device into a box linked into the computer then attached the military socket
onto the firing button.
 
Finally he
pulled from the cardboard tube a long, complicated telescopic sight which he
clicked onto the barrel and locked into place with
grubb
screws.

He powered the device up and looked at the screen of the computer.
 
The motors on the barrel moved the whole gun
up and down and to the right and left finally centering itself.
 
On the display he could see through the
powerful telescopic sight through to the outline of the target.
 
He finally connected the information streaming
in from the mass flow meters liberally distributed across the area.
 
The screen took on a three dimensional
appearance as the computer crunched all the data.
 
This information would slightly offset the
screen compensating for the air conditions in the area, calculating how the air
would affect the path of the round and compensating accordingly.
 
Finally he took out the huge round designed
to fly faster than the speed of sound.
 
It
was hand turned for a perfect finish and assembled using the most delicate of
instruments to ensure it flew true.
 
The
equipment was designed never to miss.
 
However
such was the distance the round could travel over, there was still a chance the
mark could move and so it was packed with high explosives, theoretically enough
to take out an armed car, so it just needed to land close to the target and the
mark would be gone.

The whole set up was a one-off.
 
The barrel had been made in Norway using a
special lightweight, incredibly strong alloy with grain much finer than steel
which allowed for an incredibly fine polished bore.
 
It was turned on a machine that cost over
twelve million pounds and had been designed to
manufacture
 
components
that went on satellites.
 
The precision was unlike any other and little
did the machine owners know that one of their senior managers was moonlighting.
 
The optics
were
of
course from Switzerland and the motors and drive were American.
 
The battle computer and mass flow systems
came direct from
Nato
and were designed to be used on
military vehicles to map battle areas compensating for wind strength and air
density to ensure the maximum accuracy on their battle tanks.
 
The rounds were handmade by The Assassin.
 
Final concept and software development was by
The Grey Man.

The Assassin had never used this before but in tests taken two days
ago from a boat in the English Channel, the results were spectacular.

Surge circled the area making sure they were not disturbed.
 
The Assassin adjusted the sights and zeroed
in on the mark, locked on the automatic target selection system and waited.
 
The fine rain started to fall onto his cap
and jacket running down his collar and onto his neck.
 
He didn’t notice it at all.

.
  
.
  
.
  
.
  
.
  
.

Sir Thomas Robertson sat in the main drawing room of his mansion.
 
Around him were expensive paintings of his
ancestors and beautiful antique furniture.
 
The sofas and chairs were stylish and elegant and the stone floors were covered
by an 18
^th
Century hand woven rug.
 
The whole room was designed to show visitors who Sir Thomas was, where
he had come from and to ensure they knew their place.
 
He was wearing a dark blue, pin stripe suit
and an old
Etonian
tie and his
Lobb
shoes were burnished to the level of blackness only achieved by a butler or manservant.
 
He sipped coffee and read the Financial Times
waiting for Sir Wynn to arrive.

Becoming restless he opened the French doors and gazed on the patio,
beyond which was becoming slick with the gentle rain.
 
A soft breeze blew in and freshened up the
room.
 
He looked out on his land which
had been owned by his family for seven hundred years.
 
The immaculate grass lawn went on for as far
as you could see until it met the line of English oaks that blended back into
the forest.
 
He felt sorry about the
trees.
 
There had been so many more but
on advice from specialists inside the Secret Service, he had cut them back last
year.
 
He was now assured that there was
not a gun in the world that could accurately reach him.
 
He also now had men patrolling the land
another five hundred yards further out.

He worried that he had not heard anything about the contracts he had
put out.
 
By now he would have expected
at least one of the men to have been killed.
 
If he heard nothing by the weekend, he decided he would double the price.

Since John Sea had been dealt with, Sir Thomas had been incredibly
careful about his own security and about eradicating any links he had with him.
 
He knew Sir Wynn had met with The Grey
Man but was equally sure there was no hard proof.
 
There was no way he was going to be brought
down without a fight and he’d let Wynn know that.
 
Today would be an interesting meeting.