The Yeoman: Crying Albion Series - Book 1 (19 page)

The slot was shut again and Raines’ voice
filled the silence.

“Do you want to start talking now Henry?”

Chapter
15

Escape

The rain continued to fall hard for ten minutes then
slackened off to a drizzle. Inside apartment twelve, White Horse Lane the
fugitives ignored the weather as they prepared to abandon the city. Parked
outside, Lorraine Riley’s choice of vehicle was a silver colored Ford Puma. It
was small and lacked four-wheel drive. The boot storage was barely adequate and
it stood out slightly compared to other compact vehicles. The machine was good
on fuel economy though and easy to park in big cities.

Gearson
said nothing in complaint about the machine though, ignoring the drizzle as
they loaded up the vehicle. Doing so was tiring though, as two floors of
concrete steps had to be descended and ascended time and time again. First went
in Riley’s evacuation bag, then more cached gear followed.

The
back seats were next loaded with Gearson’s first Artifact case, that of the
Flight Unit.

Both
returned inside just as the sound of a police siren became audible. It was
distant but getting closer. Riley checked her remote sensors to try and get a
spectrum fix.

The
tall man ignored her and returned outside. Using a jerry can with spare fuel in
it he carefully replenished the Flight Unit’s reservoir. It only took about
half a pint before it was topped up again. Satisfied that the device would once
again give a burst of amplified power for glider-flight he stowed it behind
passenger seat.

“They’re
heading to the decoy address!” she said from her room. Gearson was just
climbing the stairs when he caught her words.

“Are
you sure? That could be anyone’s emergency.”

“The
proximity warnings are sounding and burglars don’t normally raid empty
apartments.”

“Those
police must be the visual force then, irregular plain clothes will have gone in
advance!”

“I
know it. We may have to kill people to escape this city Kallan,” Riley said
tightly, more to herself that her leader.

“We’ve
not much time then, get your data together, destroy what you can’t take.”

“Malthar
must have sung them a tune. I knew he’d rat us out,” she said bitterly before
zipping up a duffle bag.

“Hold
yourself woman, he did what he had to do,” Gearson chided. “Does he know your
car or this place?”

“No,
none of them do, but they have ways of fingering us if we leave it too long. If
they have his computer and cypher, the communications to here could be tracked.
It’s encrypted though, that should take a while for a slow-tracker to work its
way here.”

“The
dark forces we are up against are a match for any cyber marauder.”

From
the third case he removed a new piece of equipment discretely. To the casual
eye it resembled a gun, to the more intelligent, a revolver and to those experienced
in firearms, a Webley .455. Gearson knew it was much more than that though, it
was both a weapon and a tool with two triggers, one smaller than the other. He pressed
a little catch and opened up the Webley’s top-break action then slid across another
metal part, allowing the cylinder that was in it to be removed. Putting that
into a jacket pocket he replaced the cylinder with a new one. This one had
brass cartridges like the first, but enclosed non-lethal slugs that he’d had
custom-made. A third cylinder he removed from the Artifact case and checked
that the prism array had not degraded after the many years in storage. It had
not and this went into an inside jacket pocket. A custom shoulder holster in
buffalo hide came out next and the revolver slid snugly into it. By the time
he’d removed his jacket, donned the holster and put it on again Riley was
leaving her room.

She
was laden with the last of her bags and belongings. Gearson almost gasped at
the weight as he helped her move them to the car.

“What’s
in these things? Haven’t you heard of traveling light?”

“This
is light, there’s gold and silver reserves for setting up a new base elsewhere.
Your cases aren’t much lighter.”

They
managed to get the rest of the baggage loaded in without incident, the rest of Gearson’s
gear went on the back seats. The boot would hardly close such was the size of
Riley’s bags. After some rummaging and a hard push it clicked shut.

Gearson
climbed in the passenger side to let her drive, she being more experienced at
it, and more used to driving in Britain than he was. The engine started and purred
faintly like a cat. Ford Puma’s were a small engine car but not insignificant
either. The Puma began moving around to leave the parking area. A stream of
traffic prevented them turning left and they had to wait for it to clear. Almost
at that moment Gearson picked out two men walking on the far side of the street.
They were young, European and smartly dressed. This combined into them being
very much out of place to White Horse Lane. Neither wore waterproof clothing,
nor was it casual to be exposing electronic items to moisture like the portable
device one was holding. It looked like any other smart phone except he’d glance
constantly up and around at buildings and make adjustments to it. The other was
taking on a mobile-device and giving indications to the smart-phone man.

“Lorraine,
what signs on those two?” Gearson said keeping his left hand close to his
chest.

She
donned her cap and flipped down the glass-visor. “Searchers, highly-driven.”

“MI5?”
Gearson held his hand close to his Webley.

“Maybe,
or Special Branch? Hell I don’t know Kallan, the analyser doesn’t tell me that
much.”

“Let’s
go, nice and easy.”

The
Puma slowly left the apartment complex before indicating left, taking them in
the direction of the M-25. As they passed by the men one of them looked at the
apartment complex, but not the car that passed them.

The
two men continued walking, unknowing of those that drove past. Then the Puma
was out of sight.

“We
were
that
close,” Gearson cautioned.

“We
aren’t out of London yet and it’s a long drive to Albion.”

“I
just hope we are in time to prevent them marching on London.”

“Did
you hear what I just said? It’s over a hundred and fifty miles to Yeomanry territory
in the north and your Glider machine won’t work in this weather.”

“Stay
positive Lorraine, we’d have lost years ago if we gave in to negative ways,” Gearson
said coaxing a grin from her.

Chapter
16

Suspects

“Ahh
fuck! I’ve lost the precise fix,” Corporal Johnson said, as they passed another
street junction. “This Ferret works perfect in a country village but cities
like this have too much interference,” he lamented.

The
Ferret was a very new bit of kit recently issued to SOTF. Focused cyberspace
tracing was in its infancy but the boffins at Research Wing had come up trumps
with the device. It was handheld compared to the truck-mounted prototype and could
triangulate IP sources to a fair degree of accuracy. Compared to the large,
mile-wide grid-squares more suited for open country the Ferret was their
ace-in-the-hole. Before they’d have to weasel out the information from an
internet company the suspects were using, not so now they had the Ferret.

“Are
you getting any more intel from control?”

“Nothing
but what they just told me, have you tried the focus element?” Lance Corporal Athered
suggested.

“Of
course I have!” snapped Johnson.

Since
the death of Atkinson the mood within SOTF was edgy and tense. Rebecca had been
standing in, but with the new lead from Malthar she was assigned to Interceptor
duty, and Control was their new liaison. They were under a lot of pressure, the
situation was changing almost every five minutes.

Only
an hour ago the call came in. A Bravo-State-Orange alert was sent out and addresses
and trail plans came at them thick and fast. Now, deep in foreign-occupied
London they stuck out like a sore thumb to the black and Asian populace. Their Glock
17 was a reassuring bulk under their jackets though. With a pair of magazines
secured on the opposite side to their pistol holster they were capable of
holding their own.

Nearby,
at an adjacent apartment building, a group of youths were about to go inside
when they noticed the two white men.

“Hey?
Are you looking for the guy who flew?”

Both
of them hesitated, then Athered answered.

“That’s
right, we’ve got some business to discuss with him,” he said confidently.

“What
sort of business,” a wary looking Asian youth asked hopefully.

“Well
we want to market the flying technology onto the civilian market. Hopefully
soon you kids will have a piece of the action.”

“Alright!
That sounds sick!” a lighter-complexioned lad, exclaimed excitedly.

“The
only thing is he gave us bad directions and can’t find his address,” Johnson added.

“You
just missed him! He drove off right past you with a woman. He lives over there
I think.”

One
of the group suspected the pair of white men were not all they seemed and tried
to calm down the others. It was too late though the apartment and vehicle
they’d driven away in were soon relayed to the eager pair of men. After moving
to the apartment they left the youths behind who animatedly argued and talked.

“Control
this is Weasel Six. Probable fix on POI, message to relay.”

“Go
ahead and send Weasel Six.”

“POI
traveling in Gray Ford Puma with passenger, heading south, possibly vectoring
to motorway.”

“Roger
that Weasel Six.”

“Target’s
address confirmed, send investigators to the following address…” Johnson read
it out to them and the radio communication closed.

“That’s
it, interceptors are now on the case,” Athered said plainly.

“I
hope it’s enough. I want them brought down for what they did to Danny.”

“Aye,
those Yeoman won’t stand much chance now surely?”

“Maybe.
Maybe not,” Johnson responded.

A group
of older youths had just left a petrol station and headed over in their
direction. They were foreign, aggressively orientated and unfriendly.

Athered
was tapped by his Corporal.

“Trouble.”

The
threat moved closer and outnumbered the duo four-to-one.

“You’re
kind doesn’t belong here, this is our territory now,” said one who was
obviously their leader.

“Ministry
Police! Move along son, “Johnson said gruffly and with authority. “This is
about to be a crime scene, don’t become a statistic.”

The
Rabian Negro was about to press further but Lance Corporal Athered opened his
jacket, revealing his Glock pistol.

Johnson
spoke on. “Now fuck off, before more of our friends arrive.”

The
gang leader made some muttering comments to try and save face. The group
seethed to do more, but that last vestige of life or death jeopardy held their
intentions from attacking. Then he and his crew went back to the filling
station.

“It’s
ironic isn’t it?”

“What
is?”

“Our
enemies don’t support the mass immigration that brings gutter trash like them
here, but our own side does.”

“That’s
a bit extreme mate. Our politicians are just in a bind over with all the EU
regulations, they are the ones that pass the laws.”

“Well
it’s obvious these New Euros don’t like us, if we didn’t have these pistols and
maybe the backup on its way we’d be in deep shit and you know it.”

“Well,
I know what you’re saying, but don’t let the boss hear you say that. She and
Atty had grandfolks who were immigrants from before the war I think.”

“They
were nowhere near the same class as the crap who the government want to bring
in. Scum like that are a waste of space. The EU rules are being ignored by most
other countries with the brains to look after their own anyway. You know what?
Maybe it is racial warfare being waged in high places just like the Colonels
are saying.”

“Just
keep your voice low! I shouldn’t be telling you this but Becky mentioned that Ministry
Investigators are being assigned to us for inspection and assessment. If they
heard a rant like that you’d be arrested on the spot!”

“What?
How come?”

“She
thinks they’ve found a link to a mole or espionage.”

“What
link have they found?”

“One
of Atty’s cabinets was tampered with.”

“Tampered
with?”

“The
auditors going through his office found the trespass-trigger had been released.
Atty had a report drafted and was gonna talk to us all about it. Probably would
have come to nothing, but with his death and the escape of those girls from
Warwick, well it’s rattled the Land Ministry a bit. They are kicking over any
old rock to see what’s underneath.”

“Are
we suspects?”

“Fuck
knows mate, after this is over Rebecca will brief us about it. She’s been
through one before I think. Should be nothing to worry about. No files are
missing or anything.”

Ten
minutes passed and the investigators arrived in a big transit van. They took
over, having been given a brief handover report by the two SOTF operatives.
Another van arrived, this one was RLC Bomb Disposal. As they carefully entered
the apartment with their equipment a third vehicle showed up, a Mercedes S200.
It slowly parked and the occupants took in Johnson and Athered without getting
out.

“Can
we help you sir?” Johnson asked the window that was tinted. He had his hand
resting near his pistol as he did so. The window lowered and he found himself
staring into the flushed, mean face of Cordell Mastock.

“Cordell,
I… thought you were on chaser duty with the other Interceptors?”

The
agent said nothing but stared deeply at Johnson like he was scanning him with
dangerous, suspicious eyes.

The
corporal hesitated and faltered for a moment, allowing Athered to speak and
maintain momentum.

“We
called in the location, it’s in Special Branch’s hands now. Bomb Disposal are
checking it out. The quarry is being pursued by Interceptor units now.”

Cordell
stopped his disturbing stare to look over at the youth, “I’ll say whose hands
it’s in boy!” Mastock snapped derogatively.

Both
occupants exited the vehicle and seemed ready to make a move.

“Boy?
We found this location, you’d still be chasing circles otherwise!” Athered told
them boldly.

“Don’t
give us that line,” Rachel Shears said sardonically. “We were already on route,
there was a trace from our systems that led us here. Now stay out of our way,” she
hissed as they moved towards the stairs.

“Hey!
Johnson said icily moving to block their passage. “You don’t run this operation
Control does!”

“Watch
your tongue, Agent Shildz is badly injured and I’m not in the mood for your
attitude!” Mastock snapped.

Johnson
moved aside but as the other agent passed him the rookie SOTF operative spoke
hasty words. “We aren’t happy about him getting Danny killed either!” Athered retorted,
surprizing Johnson with his gumption. “He was going to retire from all this
shite in a few months until you dragged him up north!”

Mastock’s
face enraged as he made a charging-rush attack for the Lance Corporal. He
jumped aside though, causing the agent to bump heavily against a brick wall.

“Settle
down you two!” a voice called sharply halting the altercation.

It
was from High Commissioner Desmond Roberts, he’d exited from a Rolls Royce
Phantom. His SAS bodyguard, not far from his side, eyed the situation keenly,
calculating if there was to be more violence from the other two. Protection of
his boss was paramount and evasion from the scene ghosted before him. The voice
of authority swayed the moment though and both agents acquiesced to reason.

“Johnson,
Athered, report back to the Ministry for a debriefing,” he ordered. Both men
nodded and left the area.

After
they were gone both Ministry agents relaxed and spoke with easy familiarity to
the Commissioner.

“Those
two are trouble, SOTF have treachery running through them,” Cordell said to
Roberts.

“They
are just dumb tools like most of the military and police, used correctly
they’ll help bring this country to a rightful conclusion. We’ll weed out any treachery
and make an example of traitors later.”

“If
they step out of line Commissioner I’ll break them apart, traitors or
otherwise. I think they are working against us.”

“My
investigators are thorough and the leak from Atkinson will be found,” Roberts
assured them.

“It’s
one of the three I reckon,” Shears said matter-of-factly, “the Kaslar female or
that young pup of a Lance Corporal is my bet. The question is how serious it
actually is? If it’s just intrigue and curiosity that’s one thing, if they’re
Yeoman insiders?”

“Whatever
it is I’ll show the investigators how to flush out insiders Rachel,” Mastock
turned to face Roberts. “Remember our agreement?”

“I’ve
not forgotten, the Persons of Interest in exchange for your organization’s full
cooperation.”

“Good,
how good are your interceptor units? I want Bridleman, and that bitch of his,”
Cordell Mastock grimaced.

“They
are up against the most advanced surveillance nation in Europe. Once we see
them, we’ll find them.”

“Once
you find them, they’re mine! My organization has been tracking that one for
years. This time I don’t want him getting away!”