The noise from the street-gritters as they rumbled past Peter’s window so early in the morning woke him with a start. Turning quickly he glanced at the bedside clock; it told him it was just after 8 a.m. He sprung out of bed and looked through his half-opened curtains.
Shit, it looked as though it had snowed all night and he immediately moved his gaze towards the hills that he could not see but knew instinctively probably still held his boy. Although Peter himself was a very accomplished hill walker, even in the dark, he was more than glad that he had been tucked up in his warm bed rather than be up there in the freezing cold. If Jake had survived last night he deserved a fucking medal. The thought burst into his head as he lifted the window and felt the full icy blast as it rushed into his room. Christ, it was cold.
Peter banged the window shut and after a quick shower and breakfast, he was almost ready to leave, when his mobile phone rang. The vibration against his chest immediately gave him a jolt; it was the first time it had rung and it could only be contact from H.Q. It meant something was going down. It was more than likely serious and it was about to happen on his ground. He quickly pressed the receive button and placed the phone to his ear.
‘Peter! Both of you down here, asap,’ the voice said, just before the phone went dead.
‘Yeah, fucking good one,’ he replied to no one.
‘I’m standing here on my own… fuck knows where Jake is. What am I supposed to do, just pluck him out of thin air? He could be anywhere, for Christ’s sake.’ Peter continued to talk out loud as he shook his head and realised all he could do was sit and wait. It could be a long day! Sod it.
Later that day Justin and Vicky sat in the café having lunch, totally unaware that as they ate and enjoyed each other’s company their every movement was being watched. The door opened and in stepped Peter. He gave a small wave and went over. He leant on their table, trying to appear very much at ease, knowing that there was every possibility Vicky would know something was wrong if the tone in his voice was not quite right.
‘I don’t suppose you’ve seen or heard from Jake?’ he looked at her hopefully.
‘No, not for a while. Why, what’s up?’ she replied, returning his gaze.
‘No, nothing, it’s just that I’ve got some more work for him and I need to get a hold of him.’ Even Peter could hear the resignation in his voice that he suddenly wished wasn’t there.
‘Why don’t you try his mobile phone?’ she asked.
‘Mobile…? I didn’t know he had a mobile, you wouldn’t happen to have it would you?’ asked Peter.
‘Sure, he’s got an old mobile of mine. I made him take it so I could always get in touch.’ Vicky opened her bag and wrote the number for Peter. ‘Thanks,’ he said, grabbing the note.
He disappeared back out into the snow-covered streets and even he missed the two strange men sitting in the van across from the small café. Walking straight past their van, he held onto the piece of paper in a vice-like grip. Not for one minute did he think that out on the hills somewhere was this country’s best one-man fighting machine, a man who worked alone through the night, evading capture like no one else, and who, when he took a delivery or disappeared into the night and could not be contacted, would possibly have in his possession a mobile phone. The thought was mind-blowing. This was most definitely not standard operational procedure. Peter jumped into his car and removed his phone from his pocket. He quickly punched in the number, pressed the send button and waited…
It seemed like an eternity, but the noise suddenly burst into his ear. Christ, it was ringing. He just hoped that Jake would be at the other end and be in a fit and able condition to answer it. He waited… the ringing stopped and he heard a click. Someone had pressed the receive button… he heard nothing…