Chapter 17
Gallagher breezed in, hung his coat up and tucked a business card into Clive's shirt pocket, whilst murmuring, "Ask for Glenroy, big Jamaican fella, runs the place. Mention my name and tell him you're a friend and don't get in any card games with the Chinese guys." He greeted the others and made himself a brew.
Winston sat back and unwrapped a Mars bar. "Who'd you fancy to win this afternoon then, Gally?"
He idly tapped the dachshund's head with his finger and watched it wobble as it seemed to consider the question. When it settled to a slow sage-like nod the decision was made.
"It's a difficult one. I don't normally follow football closely but I must admit this competition has caught my interest. I reckon the Germans will manage to beat Uruguay and Portugal will thrash the Koreans easily. Now, the Russians, who let's face it are probably mostly KGB, will probably beat the Hungarians who won't want to win anyway in case it brings on another invasion and the Argentines will simply kick us all over the pitch."
The Old Man appeared in the doorway. "Thank you for that thorough analysis of current sporting events, Gallagher. I'm no longer surprised you never made it to Corporal." He turned his attention to Ralph and Winston. "How are you two getting along with the stats for the Minister?"
They were doing fine, they said. Their report should be ready late afternoon. The Old Man nodded. "Well, he's looking for answers so just make sure you don't give him any important ones. Fudge the budget issues, usual drill."
He caught Gallagher's eye. "My office, now. You too, Clive."
They stood and waited whilst he straightened the papers on his desk. Done, he fixed them both with a stare. After only a few seconds it became unnerving. Gallagher proffered an inquisitive, "Sir?"
The Old Man retorted, "What?"
Gally countered with, "Do you want me to say something?"
He was rewarded with a quizzical eye and, "Do you need to say something?"
"No, Sir. I just..." He got no further.
"Ah! Sandy, Reg. Come in! Right! Let's get on with it. I've not had a chance to read Clive's report on his background enquiries regarding our cryptologists as yet and I'm afraid things have been taken out of our hands, somewhat. Reddington-Taylour was forced off the road early this morning. That's only a day since Petterson left for the USA. The timing was near perfect and I'm convinced, as is Sir Martin, that there's someone within the project passing information. He's putting someone in there to try and give us all a clearer picture but in the meantime get down to Marlborough Infirmary and make sure the local SB have got the place secure. He's described as being stable at the moment. We're making arrangements to move him to a military hospital, probably the psychiatric one at Netley which is better suited to our isolating him. Reg, you'll remain here of course and collate what the others are reporting back."
Thirty minutes later they were on their way, a convoy of three vehicles with three sleeping bags, three 24 hour ration packs, 'ready kit' from the lockers and an address for an unoccupied police house in a village not far from Marlborough.
They'd arranged to meet their liaison at the hospital. As they strode towards the entrance, Gallagher asked, "So, what's this chap like then, Clive, and who the hell is Sir Martin when he's not at home?"
"Sir Martin? He's the DG for Box." Sandy opened the door for the others.
Clive had stopped just clear of it. "Listen, I wanted to speak to the pair of you about Reddington-Taylour. He's not a pleasant man. In a word? Bully. I wasn't able to speak to his staff without his being present and it soon became obvious to me that there's something happening under the surface. He wouldn't even let me speak to his wife alone. Now, she's a nice woman but very timid. I did get some useful info however, from one of his junior colleagues on another team. They say he's a serial womaniser."
Gally frowned in mock seriousness. "It doesn't make you a bad person, you know."
Clive blushed. "Oh no, I wasn't trying to make a point or saying..."
Sandy placed a hand on his shoulder. "Clive, take no notice of him. He's just winding you up. Come on, let's go and get this sorted."
A quick tour of the area Reddington-Taylour was being kept in satisfied them Special Branch had their hands firmly on the reins. Their SB liaison briefed them on the incident.
"We haven't been able to ascertain where he'd been coming back from exactly but he'd been on the road from Amesbury to Marlborough when he got forced off not long after Oare Hill around six o'clock. Some army boys came across it, they reckon not long after it happened."
Sandy: "Why do they think that?"
The SB man responded, "They'd had a car pull out in front of them not too long before it happened. They could see at a couple of points they were following this car and what turns out to be Reddington's P6 Rover in front of it but lost sight of them on the hill."
Gally: "What sort of car was it?" He was hoping for an Austin Farina but suspected it would be too lightweight to take the Rover off the road. He was right.
"Humber Hawk, two-tone grey, didn't catch the number plate."
Clive butted in. "Have you got the details of the army chaps? I think we should speak to them personally."
The SB man nodded. "The uniform lads did all that but I wouldn't bother with all of them because the majority were in the back of two lorries. I've got the names, if you want? We've taken statements from the convoy commander, his driver and the two in the cab of the lorry behind. I'll get you those before I take you to your new home. There was one other soldier but he was the radio operator in the back of the commander's Landrover, didn't see bugger all. Tomorrow, I'll take you to look at the scene, if you like?" They did.
Expecting a bare house, they found the accommodation much better than they feared. Furnished like an army quarter, it had everything needed for a short stay less food, TV and a fridge. Used by the SB to house a defector at some point but latterly the playground of the scenes of crime department it was commendably clean, if the doors and frames, along with some furniture which still bore the traces and smudges of fingerprint dust, were ignored.
After arranging the timings for the following day and receiving the directions for the village shop and pub, Clive found the whistle for the kettle in the cutlery drawer and they set about deciding what would be their evening meal.
There were pros and cons to all the Army's ration packs. In this case, it was menu 'A' for Clive and Gally, menu 'D' for Sandy. This meant chicken curry and rice for two of them with minced steak and mixed vegetables for the other. They'd share the chocolate pudding as the apple flakes did nothing for any of them and if still hungry a chocolate bar, in some stage of turning white through prolonged storage, would suffice to fill them up.
Over their brew, they read through the statements, passing them to and fro as they finished each one, after which they decided to go to the pub to discuss any issues.
Pleasant late afternoon drinks were always, well, pleasant and although it had rained earlier the tables and benches in the garden were now dry thanks to the newly released sun.
Sandy led off as he laid three pints on the beer mats. "So, what do we make of the job so far?"
Clive was studying the map. "Well, the road the Humber came out of does lead back to Pewsey so I'd guess that's where he'd been. Probably towards the south of the town and that's why they took that particular route to cut him off. I'd have thought at that time of the morning they'd not encounter any traffic so the extra distance wouldn't be an issue."
Gally sipped his pint. "I agree, Clive. I think tomorrow we'll get a better idea when we take a look at the crash scene and have a drive along that road. I'm not entirely sure who he was visiting is necessarily so important to us at present but we should look into it. To be honest, it wouldn't be a surprise if it was someone from the project, given the nature of the man. I'll give Reg a bell when we get the bread and eggs from the shop. The phone box is just round the corner."
After another pint, they called it a day and wandered up the road to the little shop that doubled as the newsagent and post office. Whilst the others went in, Gallagher made his call.
"Ok, Gally, I'll make those enquiries and make sure you call me earlier tomorrow because I've got a bird watcher's AGM to go to."
"I'll do my best, Reg. Oh, and by the way, I know they may have thought of this but mention it to Box. If the project has a tea lady they might want to give her a bit of close attention, any cleaners as well. I've come across this before. They become almost invisible, if you know what I mean.”