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“Thurstan!” It was Arthur. “Soapy’s on the phone. Says he has to speak to you. It’s urgent!”
The DCI huffed. “If it’s about his sick note tell him I’m busy!”
Arthur shook his head. “He says you have to speak to him now!”
Thurstan picked up the phone. “David, this had better be good.”
“It’s Nickson, Boss. I’ve just seen him!” Soapy answered.
“Are you sure it’s him?” Thurstan’s heart rate immediately increased.
“I was just coming back from my sister’s and I walked right past him. He was getting out of a motor driven by a little blonde guy. I’m absolutely sure, Boss. I’ve spent enough time looking at his photo.”
“Where?” Thurstan was already scribbling on a notepad.
“Mossley Hill. He’s just gone into a small wood that backs onto Granarth Close. I’ve googled it on my phone. He can’t be going anywhere else.”
“Where are you now?”
“I’m at the end of the road, sitting on a wall.”
Granarth Close? Why did that ring a bell? “Ok, stay there. Don’t approach him if you see him again!” He gave Soapy his mobile number and strode off to get his jacket. Granarth Close. He knew the address somehow. Granarth Close. Granarth Close. Bingo!
Reaching his desk, he ripped open the top drawer and grabbed the copy of the Echo. Rifling through it, he found the article. ‘Holocaust survivor’s final victory?’ There was a picture of an elderly man on the steps of a house. The door behind him had the number 15.
Driving out of HQ, in the unmarked MIT vehicle, Thurstan called into his radio.
“DS Drayton. DCI Baddeley.”
“Drayton go ‘head.”
“Derek, any sign of Nickson?”
“No, Boss. We’ve got this place pretty much sewn up and there’s been absolutely nothing.” The surveillance guy next to him tapped his leg and whispered: “Movement.”
“That’s good. Soapy just called in, says he’s seen Nickson in Mossley Hill. He thinks he’s making towards Granarth Close. I want you, our team and the firearms to meet at 15 Granarth. Asap.”
“Alright, Boss, hang on a mo’ there’s some movement here. They’re bringing him out...Oh!! ... Fuck!!”
Thurstan pulled over to the side, hazard lights on. “What’s happening?” Nothing. “Derek! Speak to me. What’s happening?”
“His head just fucking exploded, Boss. Jesus Christ almighty!”
This was not what he wanted to hear. Decision! Think! Think man!
“Are they in the compound still?” No reply. “Derek! Are they still in the compound!”
A shaken Degsy replied: “Yes, Boss. They never got out of the place.”
Thurstan could hear calm voices in the background.
“Callsigns with the eyeball, any clues where that came from?”
“One zero bravo. Maybe Dennings Bollocks. It’s the best vantage point.”
“Roger that.”
Thurstan stuck his arm out of the window and placed the strobe light on the roof. He called Degsy again.
“Leave them to it! It’s their problem now. Tell the surveillance guys to stay put, observe and report. The rest of you, 15 Granarth Close, now!”
He threw the radio on the passenger seat, bent forward over the ‘blues and twos’ control panel and muttered: “Now, how the fuck does this work?”