8th July
Robin studied the screen of his laptop. ‘Looks like Rodriguez is having another quiet day indoors,’ he said, observing the trace of the tracking transmitter on a map.
‘Any news from Elliot Parker, Maria Galveston, Charlotte or the president?’ asked Paul.
‘No, but it’s early days,’ Robin replied. ‘They’ll try to keep Dean Hemmingway under constant surveillance and hope that he leads them to other WAR operatives.’
‘Do you think WAR might be getting nervous?’ Robert asked.
‘They know Rodriguez has been compromised and that Joss Henderson, at Groom, hasn’t been in contact,’ Robin replied. ‘That must make them concerned about what else we know.’
‘Oh shit,’ said Robin suddenly.
‘What’s the problem?’ Paul asked.
‘I’ve just reviewed the tracking data for Rodriguez for the past twenty-four hours,’ Robin replied. ‘He literally hasn’t moved at all for that whole time. That’s a bloody long time to sleep.’
~*~*~*~*~
Within half an hour, Robin, Paul and Robert were surrounding the WAR safe house.
Robin and Paul stood at the front door of the detached bungalow while Robert covered the rear.
Paul knocked on the front door.
There was no reply.
He knocked again.
There was still no reply.
He tried the door knob – the door opened.
He and Paul drew their weapons and quickly moved into the house, covering each other in a room to room search.
The door of the bedroom was slightly ajar. Robert barged the door open, rapidly panning his gun across the room.
Rodriguez was lying on the bed.
As Paul and Robert approached the body, they could see a bullet hole in his forehead.
Rodriguez had clearly been dead for some time.
‘The rest of the property seems undisturbed,’ said Robert. ‘It looks like a deliberate hit, rather than a botched robbery.’
Paul pulled back the curtains slightly and looked out of the window. ‘Robin, do you know from the tracking data exactly when he stopped moving?’
‘Yes, at about one in the afternoon yesterday. Why do you ask?’
‘There’re clearly a paranoid lot around here. I can see three CCTV cameras on the surrounding bungalows, just from here. They might have captured something useful.’