Red Station

SIXTY-SEVEN

‘ This will do.’ Rik stopped in front of a doorway and motioned for Harry to follow. It was a small independent coffee bar in a side street. It carried a notice advertising wireless facility. They were both breathless after leaving the Risoux Cafe, hurrying past the manager who was shouting into his phone. Harry had heard enough to realize that the man had called the police.

Grabbing a passing cab, they had jumped out near Charing Cross Road, amid a tangle of cafes, restaurants and bookshops.

Rik set up his laptop at a spare table at the rear and dialled the access to Clarion. ‘OK, this is where it gets touchy,’ he said, flexing his fingers. ‘Can you time me for five minutes?’

‘OK.’ Harry glanced at his watch and kept one eye on the door. He turned and saw a fire escape notice above a narrow stairway in one corner. It would be their escape route if they suddenly got company.

‘I’ll go in as far as I can,’ said Rik. ‘But I might trip an alarm. If I do, depending on the level, we’ll have anything up to twenty minutes before they come and kick the door in.’

‘Do it.’

Harry didn’t bother watching the screen as Rik worked; it would mean little to him until Rik accessed the message files — if they still existed — and he didn’t need to clog his brain with unwanted information. If they got the messages, it would prove a link between Bellingham and Clarion. What it wouldn’t prove was that he had sent Latham to Red Station with instructions to kill. But it was better than nothing. At the very least, it would be enough to put a scare into Bellingham and start an internal enquiry.

‘Got it,’ Rik hissed. His fingers flew across the keyboard. He was breathing like an athlete, eyes fixed on the screen, and Harry could feel his excitement. It was a small insight into what made hackers tick. ‘How are we for time?’

‘Edging on four minutes.’ He was amazed by the passage of time.

Rik muttered to himself and carried on tapping away before taking out a data stick and plugging it into the side of the laptop. He hit a series of keys then sat back.

He was smiling.

‘What are you so happy about?’

‘I recognize some of these messages. Mostly from Mace.’ He tapped the keyboard. ‘Here’s one I sent last week. Seems weird being back here now.’

The front door of the cafe rattled open and two office workers strode in. The sound of a police siren drifted in behind them, distant and fading.

‘Christ!’ Rik sat forward, jerked out of his bubble of concentration, and reached for the data stick.

‘Easy,’ cautioned Harry. ‘It’s moving away.’

Rik relaxed and breathed out. ‘If you say so. How much shall I copy?’

‘As much as you can… names, dates, subjects, whatever proves we were there and that Bellingham was running the operation.’ He had a thought. ‘Does it include Mace’s report about Stanbridge?’

‘Yeah, I just saw it. How are we doing for time?’

Harry checked his watch. ‘Six minutes gone.’

‘We’re pushing it.’ Rik looked annoyed with himself and explained, ‘I may have tripped an alarm on the way in. It’s not easy to tell.’

Outside, a car blew by with a roar of a powerful engine. There was a squeal of brakes and someone shouted. The crackle of a radio voice echoed along the street.

‘Let’s go.’ Harry didn’t want to push their luck. They had enough to use and he knew they were on borrowed time.

Once they were clear of the area, they stopped off for Rik to copy the files to a second data stick, and for Harry to buy a small jiffy bag and scribble an address on the front. He placed the stick inside with a note, then sealed it and stopped to speak to a motorcycle courier perched on his bike and eating a sandwich. A quick exchange of notes and the courier nodded and dumped his sandwich.

They walked away as the bike took off down the street.

‘Right,’ said Harry, as they reached Oxford Circus station. ‘Go home and get lost. Take your mum out for dinner or something and meet me at the National Gallery at nine tomorrow morning.’

Rik nodded. ‘Fine by me. What did you say in that note?’

‘I said I’d call her tomorrow at ten with information about a rogue operation involving MI5 and MI6, and a government hit squad.’ He smiled. ‘A slight exaggeration, that last bit, but it should get her attention.’