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REGAN ROARED OFF ONCE more on the Bonnie with John Barnard clinging to his back. John still had the backpack strapped to him with all the tools of his former trade.
He weaved in and out of the London morning rush hour traffic. Regan felt justified to have chosen the Triumph as his two wheeled pursuit transport in the metropolis. Adrenaline now overwhelmed him and overrode the nagging pain in his side from the gunshot wound. It was just as well because his riding style had to be aggressive but also defensive.
Taxis of the black cab kind and buses are the two worst enemies of anyone on two wheels in London. One black cab tried to carve him up on Chelsea Bridge just like the earlier incident in the race to interdict Marks. Regan swerved to avoid colliding but this time kicked the driver’s door. He was tempted to once again wrench the cab’s offside mirror off before throwing it into the dark Thames below. The driver shook his fist at the disappearing exhaust pipes of the Bonnie.
Regan pulled off the busy Elephant and Castle roundabout into Newington Causeway. He knew exactly where the Inner London Sessions Court House was from years back giving evidence in a case there. As he got close he relaxed the throttle and dropped his speed to around fifteen miles per hour. Both men now had their ‘eyes on.’ Nothing escaped their attention whether moving or stationary.
“There he is,” shouted Regan. Underneath a spreading chestnut tree inside the grounds of the court house stood Bill Morris. He was trying to look nonchalant, smoking a cigarette. Even from a distance Regan could see he had eyeballs on the sandstone steps leading to the entrance of the court building.
There were small groups of people and individuals walking towards the entrance. Some were obviously barristers or solicitors. They all wore the same uniform of dark grey suits and carried grand looking bags. It was even possible to say who were the barristers as they carried a cloth bag tied up with a drawstring. Inside, nestled the badges of their profession, a horsehair wig and a liveried tin that protected it, and the black court gown. The tin was embossed with the barrister’s initials. The female barristers were even easier to detect. Without fail, all wore the same black jacket, skirt of the same colour and a white high-necked blouse. They also carried the tell-tale cloth bag.
Regan turned right into a side street alongside the court building and parked the Bonnie. John pulled off his backpack, opened it and checked the contents. First he checked one Browning, then the other. He handed the second one to Regan who checked it again then pushed it into the large side pocket of the stolen flying jacket. John secreted his inside his belt then both men hid below a low wall in front of a house opposite the grounds of the court. They had a perfect view of Bill who was still leaning against the tree. He was leaning but watching. Regan and John were watching him.
Caroline Sewell had first taken a cab to her chambers to collect some papers before taking the Tube. First from Temple Gardens Tube station to Embankment then on to the Elephant and Castle. From there, she walked the few hundred yards to the court house. As she walked through the gate of the court into the grounds, she remembered to use the entrance reserved for judges. It was at the side of the building and close to where Regan had parked the motorcycle. The cab ride to her chambers was unplanned. It had initially confused Bill who thought she was heading directly to the Inner London Sessions. He realised what was happening and decided to wait for her to arrive at the court house.
Regan saw Bill stand up straight and followed his line of sight. He saw a tall, attractive blonde walking towards the corner of the building. She walked upright, straight-backed and had a certain elegance about her. He was looking at Caroline Sewell for the first time. She was dressed like all the other female barristers but she was distinctive. Maybe it was the way she walked, thought Regan.
Both Regan and John moved out of their hiding place as they saw Bill follow Caroline to the corner of the building. She was heading for the judge’s entrance. They moved quickly but stayed low and both men by instinct had one hand on their weapons. Before setting off, they had cocked the Brownings SAS-style.
“Caroline!” It was Bill who called out her name.
