Hunter Hunted, Jack Gatland [good story books to read .txt] 📗

ruined! They’ll ask how I didn’t see this, how I didn’t know!’

Gladwell sat in the chair on the other side of the desk from Charles now, nodding sympathetically, as behind the eyes he tried to work out what was really going on.

‘We can get you out of this,’ he said. ‘We can change the narrative, show that you were trying to stop this, perhaps?’

Charles Baker simply stared at Gladwell, but it felt that he was looking straight through him.

‘Maybe it’s time for me to resign,’ he said. ‘Maybe Kendis was right when she wrote about me.’

‘You’re on the Star Chamber, man!’ Gladwell hissed. ‘Grow a spine!’

‘To hell with the Star Chamber!’ Charles stood as he shouted. ‘Look at what I’ve got around me! My Special Advisor killed a journalist! He tried to frame a police officer for terrorist crimes!’ He stopped, as if his common sense was finally returning.

‘You know, I told him to get you a present back when you said you’d help me with the Leadership,’ he whispered. ‘Something nice. Rare. Like a Montblanc letter opener in Ruthenium.’

‘Did he? I can’t remember.’

Charles Baker’s face was now dark and foreboding.

‘If I find you did anything here, that you were to blame for any of this, I will destroy you,’ he hissed. ‘We took the flack for your Balkans error, but I still know where the papers are.’

‘You do?’ Gladwell laughed. ‘In a safe in a mausoleum, perhaps? Good for you! Go get them! Let’s see how you do!’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that someone beat us to it!’ Gladwell rose now, facing Charles. ‘They changed the combination! We can’t get into the bloody thing!’

‘Walsh,’ Charles replied softly. ‘He saw Francine last night. He knew Kendis well. Maybe he knew about it?’

Gladwell went to reply, but then stopped.

‘Dammit,’ he hissed, pulling out his phone. ‘I need to make a call.’

‘Problems?’

‘You could say,’ Gladwell muttered, texting as he left the office. ‘I’m about to have him executed.’

30

The Sting

Declan stood in front of The Fitzroy Tavern, in the heart of Fitzrovia, and took a deep breath.

Royal Bastard. Gallifrey. Dentist.

He’d understood the message the moment he heard it; the Royal Bastard was Henry Fitzroy, the first Duke of Grafton and illegitimate child of King Charles II; the surname FitzRoy was a term meaning ‘bastard child of a royal’.

Fitz-Roy.

And his great grandson, Charles Fitzroy, Baron Southampton had bought the Manor of Tottenham Court, building Fitzroy Square to the east, and Fitzroy Street had been named after him, the area gaining a lot of interest from Bohemians in the 1930s, in the process earning the nickname Fitzrovia.

Gallifrey was because of Declan’s first meeting here with Alex Monroe; when he first joined the force from the Military Police, his father had arranged a drink for Declan with Monroe, then just a DI himself, to go over some basics in the new field. They’d arranged it for an evening during the week, meeting in the downstairs bar only to discover that they’d coincided with the monthly meeting of a group of Doctor Who aficionados. They’d not stayed long, but the memory was strong.

And finally Dentist could only mean the terrible joke that Doctor Marcos had told him, of tooth hurty being the best time for one, and so it was at two thirty in the afternoon that he stood on the junction of Windmill Street and Charlotte Street in Fitzrovia, staring at the bar and willing himself to enter, hoping that it wasn’t a setup.

Taking a deep breath, Declan adjusted his coat to cover his face a little and then entered the bar through the side entrance.

On Whitfield Street, running parallel to Charlotte Street and directly attached to Windmill Street, Billy and DI Frost sat in an unmarked police car, watching the pub across the road as a man in a long coat entered.

‘Was that him?’ Frost asked. Billy shrugged.

‘It could have been, but I couldn’t tell for sure,’ he replied. ‘Maybe we should go in and look?’

‘And you’re sure this is where the meeting was?’ Frost picked up a radio as Billy nodded.

‘Henry Fitzroy’s the Royal Bastard, and tooth hurty is the best time for dentists,’ he explained. ‘Doctor Marcos told me the joke, and she was the one leaving the message.’

‘And the Gallifrey line?’

‘They had some kind of monthly comic thing there,’ Billy smiled. ‘Never was my thing, so when Monroe mentioned it I kinda turned off. But it’s definitely the right place, and that has to have been Declan.’

Frost clicked his radio on. ‘All units, be prepared. Suspect is believed to have entered the location, and we’re going to check it out.’

‘That’s a negative,’ a voice spoke through the radio, surprising Frost. ‘Stay in your vehicle until we accurately identify whoever is joining him. I want all of them.’

‘This is my sting, DCI Sutcliffe,’ Frost replied into the radio. ‘I didn’t realise you’d be on the frequency.’

‘I’m taking this over,’ Sutcliffe’s voice showed a hint of anger. ‘I don’t trust your judgement right now.’

Turning the radio off and tossing it onto the dashboard of the car, Frost looked to Billy.

‘You were right,’ he said. ‘He’s trying to move me out of the way.’

‘Perhaps then we need to ensure that we sort this before he reaches us?’ Billy suggested. ‘If we get a chance, we should tie up all the loose ends, if you know what I mean.’

Frost nodded.

‘We’ll give it ten minutes,’ he said. ‘And then we move in.’

Walking down the stairs to the basement bar, Declan saw that the door to it had a sign that read CLOSED - PRIVATE EVENT. Opening the door and entering, Declan saw a long table by the wall with Monroe, Doctor Marcos, Anjli and DCI Bullman sitting there. Monroe looked tired, but forced a weary smile as Declan walked over, sitting down at the table.

‘I didn’t order you a drink,’ Monroe said softly. ‘I didn’t know what this new persona of yours would drink.’

Anjli grinned. Declan couldn’t help it;