Chapter 7

"Okay, take this one and lock 'im up till tomorrow," Harry told his men after he got off the phone.

"Will we take him down the docks? Hold him there?" Jimmy asked.

"Yeah, that'll do. Just make sure you hang onto 'im until we finish this business. C'mon, sunshine." He reached down and lifted Face to his feet. Face leaned weakly against Harry for a moment. "My boys are gonna look after you for a bit. You be a good lad and they'll give you some scran and let you get some kip. You give them any trouble and you'll get more of what you already got tonight, savvy?"

"Sure, sure," Face said, "no trouble, absolutely, Mr… erm, Harry." He appeared completely cowed and Harry gave him a disgusted look and pushed him away into the waiting clutches of the two big thugs.

"Get 'im out of my sight."

They dragged Face back out of the building and into the alleyway.

"Better tie 'im up." Jimmy said, producing a length of rope. He pushed Face against the car and bound his hands behind his back. "Get in," he snarled pushing Face into the back seat.

It was all Face could do to keep from grinning. First mistake, Jimmy, you should have locked me in the trunk again. One of the big thugs got in beside Face; the other took the driver's seat and Jimmy the passenger side. The thug beside Face had a handgun trained on him, but as they drove off he started talking to the other two and paid Face little attention. It seemed Face's 'I'm no real threat, you don’t have to worry about me' act had been highly effective. Behind his back he flexed his wrists. The ropes moved.

After Hannibal got off the phone he grinned around at the others watching him.

"I love it." He said.

"What?" Chris said. "I don't understand you, Colonel, they have us beat. Once I get the deed for this place from my solicitor and hand it to them it's all over."

"It will be a very long time before that happens." Hannibal said.

"Six o'clock tomorrow, or rather, this evening doesn't seem that long to me." Chris said, looking at his watch.

"Are you kidding?" Hannibal said. "It's almost too much time. We'll be able to have a long lunch. That stuff about having to get the deed from your lawyer, that was beautiful, bought us all this time."

"They'll know we're going to be ready for them though, Colonel," Murdock pointed out.

"So we'd better be ready for them, then." Hannibal said.

BA frowned. Murdock said, "Er, that’s a bit circular, Hannibal."

"Well we are going to run rings around 'em."

"What about Face?" Jenny asked.

"Put the kettle on around dawn," Hannibal said. "If he's on form he should be back about then." He frowned. "Which actually might push the timing of everything up a bit, so we'd better get to work."

Face could feel blood running down his wrists where he'd worked them free of the ropes, but he kept his face impassive despite the pain. No one was paying him much attention. His captors were currently arguing about 'the gunner's back four' whatever the hell that was about. The car was being driven through a grim looking area of warehouses, mostly abandoned. There were few other vehicles on the roads; it was almost four a.m. according to the dashboard clock.

A pair of headlights was moving towards them on the other side of the road. Face tried to gauge the speed of the other vehicle. He would have to time this just right. And he didn't fancy jumping out of this car while it was still moving. He wondered if they would fall for a simple trick. Well they were pretty simple guys. The other vehicle was close enough now.

"Look out!" Face yelled. The man driving reacted purely on instinct and slammed on the brakes. The car screeched to a halt and Face instantly grabbed for the door handle and threw himself out of the car. Mistake number two, Jimmy, you didn't even engage the child safety locks. He fell onto the tarmac, scraping his hand badly. He barely noticed that pain because he was a little too pre-occupied with the vehicle bearing down on him. He stumbled to his feet as it too came to a stop in a haze of burning rubber. It was a VW camper van. Not the ideal get-away vehicle, but there was no time to wait for the next one. Jimmy and his crew were piling out of the car now.

Face ran to the van and pulled open the door. He swore silently as he realised he'd miscalculated slightly. He'd meant to go for the passenger door, but had gone for the driver's side instead. Damn British, he thought driving on the wrong side of the road.

"What the hell…?" The man driving the van began, but Face had no time to start explaining.

"Move!" Face ordered, forcefully. He climbed in, pushing the man out of the driver's seat into the back of the van. The van had stalled after its abrupt stop and Face turned the ignition keys. The engine came back to life and Face grinned, slammed it into gear. He accelerated forward forcing Jimmy to leap to one side to avoid being run down.

"Yeah, you jump, pal." Face said out loud. "I'll be seeing you later." He added thinking about his borrowed shotgun. No way was Jimmy keeping the Remington.

In the rear view mirror Face saw his erstwhile captors heading for their car. He put his foot down and took a right far too fast, heard the vehicle's former driver cursing as he was thrown around in the back. Face fought the steering wheel, bringing the van back under control. There was a left turn up ahead, he took that, a little more slowly, before Jimmy and the boys had taken the right. They didn’t follow him around the left turn; he saw their car flash past heading straight on.

He kept on moving, taking as many turns as he could, no idea where he was or where he was going, just wanting to put as much distance between the van and its pursuers as possible. Finally he was so lost among the abandoned warehouses that he figured they'd need St Bernard's dogs to come dig him out.

Face breathed a little easier, congratulating himself on his brilliant escape.

Then someone hit him with a tire iron.

"Hannibal!" BA called. "C'mere. I think I got something." Hannibal hurried through to where BA was standing near the north west corner of the warehouse. A load of red pillar boxes had been pulled away to clear the floor.

BA had exposed the concrete under the floor. He had marked out a rough rectangle with chalk. He ran the metal detector over the area and Hannibal nodded as he saw how it picked out the shape BA had marked. Behind Hannibal the others started to arrive, curious.

"Thought it might be another drain cover at first." BA said. "But it's something inside the concrete, inside the foundation. And look at this." He brushed away some of the dust from the surface. "There's an area where the concrete ain't exactly the same as the rest, can ya see? The colour ain't quite the same. I'd say someone dug a hole in the foundation, then poured new concrete in afterwards."

Hannibal straightened up, grinning. "Well done Sergeant. I think we just found what we're looking for. Now we have to get at it." He looked around at the group. "Anybody got a pick axe?"

BA groaned. Knew who was going to get that job.

"Ow!" Face yelled, although the not very hard blow to his shoulder was more an irritation than actually painful. He looked around at the man behind him. He was a tall, but skinny man in his thirties and had long brown hair tied back in a ponytail. "Why the hell did you do that?" Face demanded.

"I'm sorry," he actually looked genuinely apologetic for a moment, and then seemed to try and summon up some righteous anger. "I mean, I'm sorry, but you are stealing my van and kidnapping me, I think I have a right to defend myself." He brandished the tire iron unconvincingly in a not very effective attempt to menace Face. "Now pull over, please, or I'll be forced to hit you again."

"Gimme that!" Face easily grabbed the tire iron out of his hand. He saw fear in the man's eyes, so quickly tossed it down into the foot well of the passenger seat. "Look, Mr… what's your name?"

"Wright. Tom Wright." His reluctant passenger said.

"Mr Wright…" Face grinned at the sound of the name. "Hey I think I know a few women that are looking for you." Tom grimaced. "Sorry." Face went on, "I suppose you've heard that gag about a thousand times."

"This month alone."

"Sorry. Anyway, Tom, can I call you Tom? My name's Templeton Peck. And I don’t intend you any harm, I promise. I just needed to borrow your van to get away from some pretty unpleasant people. I'm sorry to mix you up in all this."

"Did they do that to you?" Tom said, frowning at him, looking at the bruises on his face and his bloody wrists and hands.

"Yeah." Face saw something on the street he was extremely familiar with now. A red telephone box. He pulled in and turned to Tom, gave him a smile.

"You got any change?"

"That's great news. And BA's digging it up now? Fantastic." Face decided he might not hurry back. Avoiding a turn with the pickaxe suddenly became a high priority.

He reached into his inside pocket and took out Harry's wallet. He'd lifted it when Harry had dragged him up to his feet. "I've found out who we're dealing with." He flipped open the wallet. "One Harry Tate," he read the name on a card inside. He glanced at the notes in there. Looked like about five hundred pounds at least. "Carries plenty of cash. Size of a rhino and about as cuddly."

"Great, Face." Hannibal's voice came through the receiver. "Get back here quick as you can, then you can go and see what you can find out about our friend Mr Tate. Or do you need one of us to come pick you up?" Since Face had no clue where he was that might prove to be a problem.

"Nah, I think I can get a ride." Face said, looking out of the phone box at the camper van. "Oh, Hannibal, before I go, there's something else I need to tell you."

"Okay."

"But before I do I want you to think about a few things, like how you're so glad I'm alive and not badly hurt. And how pleased you are I managed to escape by myself, bringing useful information with me."

"Face…"

"Are you thinking about those things?"

"Yeah, okay, I'm thinking about them."

"Good. Thing is, I kinda lost the Remington."

"Face!" Face hung up. He left the phone box and went back to the van. Tom was checking a guitar case that was seat belted into the passenger seat. Face noticed a decal in the van window, a round yellow sticker that said "Musicians Union. Keep music live." Professional musician? Face speculated.

"Hey, Tom, I know it's kind of a cheek to ask you this, but could you give me a ride?"

"Where to?" Tom asked.

"Tonbridge?"

"That's rather a long way," Tom said, though he wasn't saying 'no'. Not many people said 'no' to Face.

"I know." Face took out Harry's wallet, extracted a wadge of notes. If there was one thing that was always close to a musician's heart it was money. "I could give you a little something for your trouble."

Chapter 8