Page 23 of End Game
Ross made no attempt to follow him. Never follow a target back to their base is a golden rule, as it’s the surest way to blow your cover. Ross waited until the car was out of sight before he drove slowly past the house, making a mental note of the number and the name of the road.
It didn’t take a great deal of research to discover that the owner was a Mr Dave Timpson, who worked for the local fire brigade, a job he’d been doing for the past twelve years.
It took a little more research for Ross to find out that Mr Timpson was experiencing financial difficulties, which might explain why Faulkner had visited him. But it didn’t explain what Faulkner would expect in return for removing those difficulties.
That took considerably more research.
CHAPTER 8
16 July 2012 – 11 days to go
GOLD LOOKED UP FROM HISPLACEat the top of the table, pleased to see that Silver and two of his Bronzes were already on the podium.
If you had asked William what had taken place during the past few weeks, all he would remember was that he never had enough time to deal with every problem that arose, however trivial or unimportant, while ending each day sleeping for three or four hours on a camp bed in his office.
With only eleven days left before the opening ceremony, there wasn’t a minute to waste. In fact, the team meetings had gone from taking place once a month to once a week, and now once a day, in the vain hope of staying ahead of the game.
A knock on the door at five to eight, answered bycome in, allowed the inner circle to join Gold. Detective Inspector Adaja took his place on the Commander’s right, while SergeantPankhurst sat on his left. Sergeant Roycroft occupied the remaining seat at the other end of the table, while William’s secretary sat behind him, making notes, and would have the minutes along with a new agenda prepared well in time for tomorrow’s meeting.
‘As from tomorrow,’ said William, ‘these meetings will take place at the stadium and will begin at seven o’clock, not eight.’
No one commented, as that was no more than they had all signed up for seven years ago.
‘Right,’ said William. ‘As usual, we have a packed agenda. Don’t forget that for the next few weeks, the eyes of the world will be upon us. If anything goes wrong, we’ll be on the firing line. So, first on the agenda.’ William looked down at the sheet of paper in front of him. ‘How can we hope to get approximately one hundred and fifty VIPs to the stadium without causing a traffic jam that will bring London to a halt? Paul,’ he said, looking to his right, ‘I was glad to receive an email from you at eleven o’clock last night with the words:Sorted. Will explain at tomorrow’s prayer meeting.Explain.’
‘We’re going to transport our group of kings, presidents and prime ministers in sixteen luxury coaches, each accompanied by half a dozen outriders and two police cars.’
‘I can’t see Jacques Delors sitting in the back of a coach chatting amiably to Boris Johnson,’ said Rebecca, barely able to mask a grin.
‘It will be up to the Foreign Office to handle that particular problem,’ said Paul, without missing a beat. ‘There will be four royal receptions held in different locations an hour before our VIPs have to leave for the stadium. One at Buckingham Palace hosted by the Queen, a second at St James’s Palacewith Prince Charles, a third at Lancaster House with Prince Harry and Princess Anne and the fourth, for lesser mortals, will be held at Wellington Barracks.’
‘I wouldn’t want to be the person who has to decide which head of state goes to which palace,’ volunteered Rebecca.
‘Again, the Foreign Office will be responsible for that delicate decision,’ said Paul, ‘as they’re well aware who’s sleeping with who, which ones are not on speaking terms, and who will be insulted if they don’t get invited to Buck House.’
‘Who’s sleeping with whom,’ corrected William. ‘So, what’s next?’ he asked, looking down at item number two on the agenda.
‘Disgruntled taxi drivers,’ announced Jackie from the other end of the table.
‘What’s their problem?’ asked William.
‘They’re not being allowed to operate on the official route to and from the Olympic Stadium, which they’re not best pleased about.’
‘And how do they propose to express their anger?’ pressed William.
‘Sixty of them intend to circle Hyde Park Corner during rush hour on the evening of the opening ceremony,’ said Jackie, ‘which will bring London to a standstill in a matter of minutes.’
‘How can we stop that from happening?’ asked William.
‘Lift the restrictions and allow them to ply their trade on the Olympic route,’ suggested Rebecca.
‘I’ll need to have a word with the mayor,’ said William.
‘He doesn’t have the authority to override Transport for London,’ Rebecca pointed out.
‘Then I’ll ask the Hawk to speak to the Home Secretaryand suggest he calls an emergency meeting,’ said William, turning round and nodding to his secretary.
Angela continued writing furiously.
