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He stood in a quiet side street. They’d called early.
“Hello, Nicks.”
He spun around. For some reason, he’d expected them to arrive from the opposite direction.
Darren grinned at him. “Get in the car, please.” He looked over and saw Thomas, hands crossed in front of him, an inviting smile on his face, the dark grey saloon parked against the kerb behind him.
Ten minutes later, in a quiet backstreet, heavy metal doors closed behind them, intermittently screeching a protest; the underground parking of an old MOD office building. Nicks was invited to sit in the back of the only other vehicle there, the black limousine.
“Glad you could make it, Nicks.” The old man smiled. He reminded him of someone but Nicks couldn’t make the connection.
“Did I have a choice?”
“We all have a choice.” He patted his knee. “We’ve taken a look at the information Don left us. It’s proven very helpful. Almost all we need to sort this thing out and we’ll be ready to action it in six days time, hopefully. Puts you on a bit of a timer, I’m afraid.” Another smile before he went on.
“There’s not much in there to assist you, unfortunately. Don was still looking for final confirmation when, sadly too late, he received it. There’s Nomad, of course, but we told you that the last time we met. All I will say is, as the regional intelligence gatherer, the person involved would have to have the ability to go mobile over a very large area or harness someone else’s ability. So, if I was you, I’d be looking at someone in sales or transport, perhaps. It would make sense.
“Once we initiate the solution, I’m afraid your target will probably become aware quite quickly. You haven’t got long to locate them so you’d better make a start on finding them soonest. Darren will drop you back off if you need a lift.”
Nicks shook his head. “No, that’s alright. I know my way around.”
The old man’s face looked drawn. He wasn’t smiling anymore. “I’m afraid we can’t help you, Christopher. You’ll have to do this on your own. There aren’t many of us and we’re going to be extremely busy. All I can offer you is that when you’re certain you’ve acquired your target, you have my blessing. Don was a very good friend.” He offered his hand and Nicks shook it, nodding, respectfully.
Out of the car, he acknowledged Thomas who returned the compliment. A quick conversation with Darren and the garage automatic shutters creaked open, enough for him to pass through into the scruffy little dead-end street outside. The doors squeaked closed.
Beyond the rear entrance to James Street station, he’d just turned left when the sound of the engines made him look over his shoulder. The black limo, dark grey saloon following, gunned its way up Moor Street spinning several empty crisp packets and a flimsy plastic carrier bag into the air; momentarily free until the cold grey tarmac sucked them back down again.