“Where did he drop you off?”
“On the road between the airport and Ponteland, it’s a lonely minor road.”
“Where do you think he was taking you?”
“To the airport of course, but he turned into a madman when I said I couldn’t get on the plane, after he strung up that poor man. He just stopped the car, turned it around and pushed me out. My suitcase is still in the car. I have no idea where we were going, he had all of the tickets and stuff. He probably thought I couldn’t be trusted to keep my mouth shut.”
“Think hard Angela, surely there must have been documents, phone calls, something which would give you a clue where he was headed.”
“He was very particular about things like that, but anyway, I thought it was strange that he turned around before he pushed me out. Maybe there is some information in his flat in London. I don’t know where it is, but the company which bought him out will know because it was registered to that company when he sold it, he told me that.”
“What’s the company name?”
“I can’t remember, but I have the number written down somewhere in my house.”
Prentice asked what her home number was, called it and asked the forensics squad to look for the London apartment number.
Chapter 38
George Mitchell headed for the hospital, the blueprint forming in his mind as he drove. He was more uncertain than at any time in the last six years. He parked in the patients’ area, as close as he could to the reserved spots for the various consultants. Two and a half long hours later, he saw him, it looked like his target. He checked the photograph, it was him. He followed the black BMW through the driving sleet for a few miles. It eventually pulled into a side street and parked. Across the road was a smart-looking wine bar. The target entered, looked around, and saw a woman waving to him. They embraced and he kissed her. He looked nervous and she seemed to comfort him as she got him to sit. They ordered a drink and the man began to gesticulate as his mobile appeared in his hand. The conversation was brief and he settled back into his seat.
George got out of his car and went into the bar, taking a high stool, and ordered an expensively squeezed orange juice. He was too far away to hear what they were saying. He looked around the place and decided to check out the men’s room. It was upstairs, unlike the ladies facility. It would serve his purpose. Within ten minutes the man’s phone rang again. This time he shouted at the caller and became quite agitated. Another gulp emptied his cocktail and he beckoned the waiter, ordering another two. Then he walked toward the stairs. George followed a few seconds later. The man was standing at the urinal, admiring himself in the mirror. George took the urinal two spaces away and said, “This awful weather makes you piss more often, doesn’t it?”
The man laughed and nodded his head, but there was something familiar about this stranger, despite the wig and spectacles. They both stood at the hot air driers and casually George reached into his pocket. He produced a second modified stun gun, with an exceptionally long rod. Without saying another word he smiled and stared at the man’s face and was satisfied that this was him. The bolt bored straight through his left eye, which immediately began pulsing blood in several directions. There was no scream, the wounded man dropped to the floor and twitched violently but only for a matter of seconds. George reloaded the gun and fired the second bolt into the other eye. The body was still. George walked quietly downstairs and back to his car. Another patron of the establishment opened the door to the men’s room a couple of minutes later. He was vomiting as he asked the barman to call the police. George headed back to his London apartment, now content that the score was even. Philip Morrison had been erased. There was but one detail to take care of now.
*
Olivia at last got through to Tom. He was uncontrollably ecstatic at the news of his son’s safe return, and laughed at the revelation of his new best friend. She asked about the funeral. “It was a sad affair Olivia. There were only a handful of people there. Michael of course, and his girlfriend. What really pissed me off was that some of Dad’s lifelong pals at the market made their excuses, all of them bullshit compared to seeing off a friend. Michael is selling the flat. I’ve been in a hotel, well actually more like a transit stop for illegals. Anyway, I’m not waiting for that numpty Prentice to ok my return. I’ll be on the first flight.”
“Are you staying long?”
“Didn’t think you’d want me to.”
“Tom, I think we’ve both found out what’s really important to us in the last few days. I’ve already told the hospital that I don’t want to be considered for any further promotion, and somebody will have to help in looking after Mickey.”
“Right, I mean you’re right. Typical of me, I had no idea that there’s nothing for me down here. Can we take this slowly? Otherwise I’ll just screw up again.”
“See you soon.”
*
George Mitchell wasn’t someone who embraced the ordinary things in life, and this wasn’t going to be the first. A man of such ingenuity was never going to be troubled by the night security at the London Eye. Kitted out in his climbing gear, he took his time in scaling the giant wheel, avoiding any sweeping lights or patrols or whatever else he might encounter. The deliberate, cat-like ascent gave time for reflection. His thoughts became more intense as he neared the top. There were two images which dominated the final few metres. The first time he saw James, the son he’d abandoned burned bright in his regrets. The other, more poignant picture was that of Kieron, saying the Thames looked like a giant snake. George’s anguish at James’ death had itself grown like a tumour until his head was infested with snakes. He could see no further purpose in prolonging the nightmare. As he stood atop the wheel, he looked upward to the dark, moonless sky. This was no time for hesitation. He dived off the summit and heard only the air rushing through his senses, then utterly silent blackness. He’d left an impression but no remorse.
*
Peter Radford was making good progress with his speech, but still caused Kieron to giggle at the funny words he managed to articulate. Pauline hadn’t fully appreciated that the boy had been abducted, and had already forgotten about the questions regarding her liaison with Ian Gladstone. She hadn’t even complained about the number of days and nights she’d had to reside uncomfortably in the hospital. And sadly, she didn’t fully realise that there were to be difficult days ahead, due to the gathering attrition of her brain. Olivia and Tom had decided, for now at least, on a trial non-separation. Although Tom couldn’t have known why Kieron thought his dad had let him down, he accepted that he had fences to mend, starting with the boy’s new friend, Mickey. And with Kieron’s mother.
*
The mood in the station was quite flat. The case could be closed but they hadn’t nicked him. When the London police had found and identified Morrison, they quickly unearthed the link to the northeast, but not in time for Prentice and his team to get to George Mitchell. Another new case beckoned, a man electrocuted in his own home in highly suspicious circumstances. Prentice decided to give Jones his head on this one, while he called on his old school teacher to hear about the struggle of Kilimanjaro.
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