Alone in his car, Grady cracked the knuckles of his free hand before answering the telephone call.
‘Where the hell are you, Cathy?’ He was angry. It was already ten o’clock. If the brief was correct, their target would soon be home.
‘Sorry. You’re on your own for this one, chum,’ she answered. ‘I’m on my way to Belgium.’
‘Is Howard sending a clean-up team?’
‘Negative. Instructions are to make it clean, remove the body and await further instructions.’
‘On my own?’
‘You’re a big boy, Grady.’
He hung up. This wasn’t the first time arrangements had changed at the last minute and he also knew Cathy wouldn’t have let him down if she could have avoided it. If she had to go to Belgium there would be a reason and he knew better than to ask her why.
This job was one he’d been expecting, one he’d been told was in the offing some weeks previously. A laptop and manuscript needing to be recovered and the bearer terminated. It was just a question of where and when.
The street was quiet. Not surprising, he thought, considering the rural location. Earlier in the evening, the rain had forced him to raise the car window. The first few heavy, yet infrequent spots had lasted several minutes before giving way to a deluge that now crashed down on the car like an angry monster demanding entry. Rain and dark cloud would give him an additional edge – ensuring he wasn’t seen or heard when the time came.
The rain was bouncing off the tarmac. Trees in the small gardens and along the street groaned in the wind and leaves in their thousands gave up their tenuous grip, covering the pavements in a soggy brown carpet.
Grady scowled. Cathy was right, of course. He could cope on his own. The female target was small in stature and easily bundled into the boot of his car. He would manage, as he always did.
Any passing cars were few and far between and it had now been nearly an hour since he had seen another human being – an old man walking his dog. With the arrival of the rain, the village had become quiet, the residents safe and cosy in their homes.
As the car windscreen started to mist over, he returned the mobile phone to one jacket pocket and from another pulled a handkerchief, which he used to slowly stroke the moisture from the glass surface. He was careful to avoid any attention-drawing movement. He disliked being in so public a place, but to fully cover the approach road, it was essential.
Improved vision secured, he flexed his fists and stretched his fingers, keeping the blood flowing and hands warm. Eyes still fixed on the street, he then reached for a small leather holdall beneath the passenger seat of the car. Opening it gently he felt the cold steel of a small semi-automatic Beretta Model 70. The Model 70 was a small calibre and not normally one he would have chosen, but the instructions had been quite clear: it was to be used and then returned to the officer who had sanctioned the operation. Grady didn’t argue the point; at close range the weapon could be just as deadly as something larger.
Earlier, as he’d watched, vapour had begun to flow from the boiler exhaust in the wall of the target house: an internal thermostat must have reacted to the drop in temperature triggered by the rain. A few minutes later a light had come on in the hallway. For a fleeting moment he’d foreseen complications; it looked like someone might already be home. But no movement followed. The curtains remained open; rooms stayed dark. The hall light was on a timer, he concluded – to create the illusion someone was in.
He was looking for a BMW 5 series. The female, in her forties with blonde hair, would be smartly dressed and on her way home from some kind of event. She was the only occupier of the house and was reported to be unaccompanied.
Lights now appeared further along the street. He dropped a half-finished cigarette into the ashtray. As the car pulled up near to him he could see the rain in the headlights. He nodded as he recognised the familiar shape of a BMW.
The car pulled up outside the house and began to reverse into a parking space. He couldn’t make out the driver but, from the number of attempts being made to get into the space, it appeared they were clearly struggling with the difficulty the rain was causing.
Finally, the car was parallel to the verge. The engine stopped and a few moments later, a folded umbrella edged over the top of the driver’s door. It sprung open as a figure emerged. He saw dark clothes, trousers, a raincoat flapping in the wind, and then a briefcase. The head and upper body were obscured by the umbrella. It was impossible to be certain if the figure was female but it looked probable. Watching as the door to the car closed, he silently stepped out into the darkness.
The figure walked quickly across the footway and up the short path to the door of the house. He was now just a few yards behind. As the umbrella was placed carefully to one side, he could now see it was a woman, petite with fairly long blonde hair. It was the target. She seemed to be searching through her pockets for her door keys.
He approached, moving silently along the path behind her. Swapping the Beretta into his right hand, he pulled a small silencer from his left pocket and quickly attached it to the barrel. There was an almost inaudible click as it snapped into place. Rain trickled down the back of his neck. It was cold and uncomfortable, but it hid the sound of his feet on the path. He raised the gun.
The woman was distracted. He knew why. She couldn’t get her key into the door lock. He had superglued it before settling down in the car to wait. Delayed entry to the house; long enough to make the kill.
A small key fell from the woman’s wet hand. As it dropped to the ground, she bent over, seemingly desperate to retrieve it quickly.
The .22 calibre round ricocheted off the stone door surround at one side of the target’s head, sparks flying off into the darkness. He cursed. The woman turned and looked up towards him, their eyes meeting as she saw the gun. She looked petrified; raised her empty hand towards him, the fingertips trembling. As he pulled the trigger for the second time she mouthed a word. He didn’t hear it, the rain masked the sound, and this time he didn’t miss. Two bullets struck home, just above her left eye. She crumpled and rolled heavily against the door.
He stood astride her for a moment. She lay on her side, eyes now closed, body curled up as if asleep, a trickle of blood running from her nose onto the wet porch area. Even though she displayed no sign of life, he aimed at her temple and squeezed the trigger again. Her head jerked slightly as the bullet entered her skull.
Before picking up the briefcase, he checked the path and street. All quiet. Satisfied he was safe, he scanned the ground carefully and recovered the spent cases ejected by the Beretta.
The lights of another car appeared further long the lane. He paused, staying still, gun in one hand, briefcase in the other, as he waited for it to pass by. But it looked like the driver was slowing down.
‘Come on … come on.’ Grady breathed heavily from the exertion as he waited impatiently for the call to connect.
‘What is it?’ Howard was abrupt and angry, even though he would know Grady calling on a secure line could only mean something important.
‘I hit a problem.’
‘The target didn’t turn up?’
‘Oh, she turned up alright. Trouble was, just as I was about to put her in the boot of my car, she had a visitor.’
‘What happened?’
‘I had to take him out. No choice. Young bloke – not her type I wouldn’t have thought – came up the drive.’
‘You sure you had no choice?’ Howard asked, anxiously.
‘He clocked me. These things can happen when you don’t have a look-out to work with.’
‘OK, OK, point made. Where are you? Can you clean up the scene?’
‘Don’t worry, that’s all taken care of. I’m well away from there now. I’ve done the best I can. I slung him back in his car and dumped it a couple of miles up the road in a lay-by.’
‘A couple of miles away? How did you get back?’
‘A long, wet run. Nothing I haven’t done before.’
‘So, this lad who saw you will be found there, eventually?’
‘That’s the plan. He had a baseball bat in his car so I laid him out as if he’d been in a fight and come off worse.’
‘Good … good.’ Howard seemed to be thinking as he spoke, weighing up options, making decisions. ‘And what about the target?’ he asked.
‘I’ve got her. I’ll bury her where you said.’
‘Long drive, Grady. You’d best be on your way.’
‘Roger that. You didn’t want me for Belgium then?’
‘Cathy can take care of it.’
‘Without an oppo?’
‘Drop it, Grady. You’ve made your point. I accept I should have sent both of you on this job.’
‘And what about the two cops?’
Howard hesitated before replying. ‘Leave it with me. Circumstances have changed, I need to give the issue some more thought.’
With the call ended, Grady flicked the windscreen wipers back on, lit a cigarette and pulled out onto the road. Like Howard said, it was going to be a long drive.