Betrayed (Powell Book 4) (9 page)

Powell slept late, having only finally fallen asleep about four thirty. He’d had a large scotch when he returned home and spent some further time digesting what he’d seen.

It was ten when he turned over in his bed and reached for his phone. He was pleased to see it was Brian calling as he wanted to update him on the previous night’s events.

“I was going to call you,” Powell said, rather sleepily.

“Listen you’re in big trouble,” Brian replied instantly. “I think you can expect a visit from the police very shortly.”

Brian’s warning brought Powell alert. “What’s happened?”

“The ballistics report on the gun they found in your car has just been finalised. Seems the gun was used to kill a young man by the name of Stuart Brown. His body was found a couple of weeks ago. The police think it was a drug related shooting.”

“Shit! After what I discovered last night, I’m not surprised.”

“What do you mean? What did you discover last night?”

Powell explained what he’d seen.

“How do you do it?” Brian asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You have a knack for finding trouble.”

“I don’t go looking for it. It just tends to find me.”

“I’ll have the number plate checked out and see if I can identify who the police officers might be,” Brian offered. “What are you going to do?”

“I haven’t much choice. If I’m locked up in a cell for months, I’m never going to be able to prove my innocence. I need to disappear.”

“Try and keep out of harm’s way. You won’t get bail a second time.”

“What can you tell me about this Stuart Brown, I’m supposed to have killed?”

“He was a twenty eight year old, out of work reporter. Lived in Lewes and no police record. His body was discovered near Forest Row. He’d been buried in a shallow grave in the woods and was dug up by a couple of enthusiastic Terriers out for their morning walk.”

“So why do the police think his death was drug related?”

“They found a significant stash of drugs at his flat. They think he was dealing and it was a turf war.” 

“That sounds vaguely familiar. Same sort of story someone wants to pin on me. And Forest Row isn’t far from Lindfield.”

“But why would they kill him?”

“You said he was a reporter. Perhaps he discovered something he shouldn’t?”

“Or perhaps he changed jobs and started working for Scott, then became greedy?”

“Maybe. Listen, I better get out of here before the police come calling. I’ll be in touch soon.”

Powell didn’t bother to shower and hurriedly packed a sports bag with a few essentials. He was out of the house and driving away within five minutes of finishing his call with Brian. If the police couldn’t find him, he wasn’t committing a crime by going on the run as his bail had been unconditional. He didn’t officially know about the ballistics report and they couldn’t charge someone they couldn’t find.

On the one hand, he would have liked to get as far away from Brighton as possible but that wasn’t a realistic option. He needed to stay close to Haywards Heath to prove his innocence but evading capture would be difficult. The police would be tracking his electronic fingerprints. Fortunately, he still had the passport in a false name, which he used to get out of Saudi Arabia, a couple of years earlier. It would come in useful if he did have to flee the country.

He decided the best place to stay close and at the same time remain hidden, would be one of the bed and breakfast hotels in Crawley. Unlike the larger hotels at the airport, they wouldn’t require a credit card for identification, when he arrived, and preferred payment in cash.

Powell drove into Brighton and returned the hire car. His neighbours had seen his new Audi and when the police came calling, the nosiest of them would be able to give a description. He didn’t want the police tracing the car through cameras, all the way up the motorway to the airport.

In any event, the police would soon be combing all the hire car companies in Brighton, checking if someone called Powell had hired a car. He knew all hire cars contain a tracker so they can always be located. He didn’t have a driving license in his false name, only a passport and you couldn’t hire a car without a driving license so he would have to rely on public transport.

Powell had switched off his mobile phone at home and removed the battery so it couldn’t be traced. As he walked towards the station, he stopped in the shopping centre to purchase a cheap, pay-as-you-go phone, giving a false name and address.

Next, he visited a branch of his bank and took five hundred pounds out in cash, which was the maximum allowed in one day. He hoped it would suffice for about a week of living expenses. The police would trace the withdrawal but the central location of his bank branch would give no immediate clue about which direction he was headed.

Finally, he visited an outdoor clothes shop and purchased two items. He put the black hoody on first and then covered it with a large yellow, waterproof jacket with a hood. It was intended for sailing but its bright colour would suit his purpose. Satisfied with what he was wearing, he walked the five minutes to the station.

His face was obscured from the station cameras until he purchased a ticket from a machine, where he allowed the hood to slip. He bought a ticket to London and looked up to check the time on the large station clock, exposing his face for long enough to ensure, he could be identified when the police came to check the cameras.

He walked to the station toilets and went into a cubicle, where he removed the yellow jacket. He knew there would be no cameras inside the toilets. He exited the cubicle and stood at a basin, in front of the mirror, pretending to wash his hands. He had only to wait five minutes for a young man of the right stature to enter.

Powell quickly struck up a conversation and learned the youngster had just arrived to visit a friend and was headed into town. He was planning to stay for a couple of days. Powell explained, he needed help. He thought he was being followed by a private detective, hired by his wife, to discover if he was having an affair.

The youngster was suspicious at first but gladly accepted the brand new gift and promised to wear it for at least the next hour with the hood up. Powell gave him fifty pounds in cash to cement the deal further. The youngster went off with a large smile and Powell could observe from inside the toilet, as the youngster kept his word and headed in the direction of town wearing the bright yellow jacket. 

Powell waited ten minutes in the cubicle before zipping the black hoody to the top and making sure in the mirror, the hood part was indeed covering his face. He exited the toilets behind a couple of other people and walked towards the platforms at a normal pace, with his face looking downwards. His intention was to keep the police looking in the wrong direction. Hopefully, they would think he was still in Brighton.

Powell boarded the Gatwick express train and thirty five minutes later was at the airport. He walked to a desk in the arrivals hall, which helped people arriving to find accommodation. He explained his predicament to the woman behind the desk. He needed somewhere to stay locally but not too expensive. She smiled and handed him a list of cheap hotels.

It took only two calls to find a vacant room. He checked it was okay to pay by cash and that WIFI was available. He received a positive response. Normally, he would have done his hotel research on the internet but his new phone wasn’t a smartphone.

He took a taxi to the nearby hotel and paid in advance for two nights, which used up one hundred pounds of his funds. Powell registered using the false name on his passport and a false address. 

He stretched out on the bed and gave thought to what he was going to do next. Time was at a premium. He couldn’t expect to avoid the police for too long if he was staying in Sussex. As a murder suspect, the police would be coming after him with all their manpower and resources. He needed to get some concrete evidence to clear his name.

Scott met Inspector Doug Williams at their regular spot. It was dark and Scott had once again been summoned by Doug, an occurrence that was recently becoming too frequent. Doug was too used to giving orders.

“So have you found Powell, yet?” Scott asked, wanting to take the initiative.

“No. But that’s probably a good thing.”

Scott was confused. “I thought the whole point of planting stuff in his car was so he would be arrested and out of harm’s way.”

“That was before I found out he’s better connected than we realised. We definitely don’t want him to end up in court telling the world what he knows”

“What do you mean?”

“Fortunately, serving in the police is a very stressful job. It quite often leads to my fellow officers becoming addicted to alcohol and sometimes leads to a dependency on drugs. I have someone very senior in Scotland Yard who is a regular customer for my product. As a result, he lets me know of anything that might potentially put his supply at risk. Someone at the security services, has put in a request to discover the driver of the car, I used the other night, when I dropped off your product. At the moment that request is sitting on my friend’s desk.”

Scott was worried. He knew if Doug was ever caught, then he would be next in line. Doug would trade information for a lighter sentence. Coppers didn’t like spending time in jail. They weren’t friends, just business partners, and neither owed loyalty to the other.

“What are you going to do?” Scott asked.

“Don’t you mean, what are we going to do. I think we have to assume the request is linked to Powell, given his MI5 connections. Perhaps he followed you the other night when I delivered your product and took down my number plate.”

“Do you think he knows you’re a police officer?”

“He must do. A check on the number plate by his friends in the security services would reveal the car is one of ours. Fortunately, the car can’t easily be traced to me. I borrowed it from the pool and there is no paper trail. However, there is CCTV of the car entering and leaving the car park.”

“Maybe it’s time to get well away from here,” Scott suggested.

“That isn’t necessary. I will deal with the CCTV. Then we need to deal with Powell… Permanently!”

“How do we do that? We’ve no idea how to find him. He may already have left the country. That’s what I would do in his place.”

“He’s communicating with his friends in the security services so I don’t think he’s skipped the country. He will want to prove his innocence. Otherwise, he faces a very long time in jail. We need to draw him out into the open and silence him before he gets a chance to cause more trouble.”

“And how do you propose we do that?”

“I have an idea.”

Scott returned to Tintagel, fighting an urge to pack a few clothes and catch a plane to somewhere hot. He had plenty of money stashed away in various accounts and no pressing reason to stay in England. He didn’t have the career or family ties of Doug. He’d disappeared before and reincarnated himself as the leader of a commune. He would miss the lifestyle but better that than risk ending up in jail. He would make some backup plans just in case he needed to make a fast getaway.

Powell had found out everything he could about Stuart Brown from the internet, which wasn’t a great deal. There were copies of some of the articles he had written but they were all quite mundane, focused on local affairs. His death was briefly covered and there was a photo of him, taken at his graduation.

Powell’s thoughts were interrupted by his phone ringing. The only person who had his new number was Brian.

“Hello again,” Powell answered.

“So they haven’t caught you yet?” Brian joked.

“Do you have news for me or are you just ringing because you’re bored?”

“I just got off the phone from Angela Bennett. She received a call from an anxious Clara Buckingham, asking if she knew how to get hold of you. Angela only had your normal mobile number but Clara said it wasn’t working and she must get hold of you urgently. So Angela called me to see if I knew how to reach you.”

“Did Clara say what she wanted?”

“No. Angela said she sounded pretty desperate. Basically, Clara said it was imperative she spoke with you  but didn’t tell Angela the detail. I took down Clara’s number and told Angela I would ask you to give her a call. I asked Angela not to mention I know how to get hold of you. She assumed you were in some sort of trouble and said to let her know if there is anything she can do to help.”

“Give her my thanks and tell her it’s all a misunderstanding, which will be sorted out quite soon.”

“That’s almost word for word what I said. This phone call from Clara could be the police using her to find you, so be careful.”

“Give me the number and I’ll call her shortly. She said she would call me after speaking with Hattie.”

Brian read out the number. “Be careful,” he warned again.

Powell had the hotel order him a taxi, which took him to the airport. It was a fifteen minute journey but necessary. He walked into the terminal and found a pay phone near the check-in desks.

“I hear you need to speak with me urgently,” he said when Clara answered.

“It’s Hattie wants to speak with you. She says she has found out something important and she doesn’t know what to do. She’s afraid and doesn’t know who to trust.”

“She should speak to the police.”

“That’s what I told her but she says she can’t. The police are somehow involved. What does she mean? She wouldn’t tell me.”

“I have no idea,” Powell lied. He didn’t see any point in adding to Clara’s worries. “Give me Hattie’s number and I’ll call her immediately.”

“She said not to call but to send her a text of when and where to meet. She isn’t able to speak on the phone while she’s at the house.”

Powell had forgotten Hattie wasn’t supposed to have a phone while at Tintagel. It could be awkward, at the very least, if she was found to be on the phone. “Okay, I’ll get in contact with Hattie,” Powell confirmed.

“Will you really? Thank you so much. Please let me know what she says.”

“I will but if the police ask, you haven’t heard from me.”

“I quite understand. I will be discrete.”

As Powell finished the call, he decided he needed some additional help. He needed both more cash and a car to get about. He couldn’t keep using taxis.

He picked up the phone again and called Brian.

“How do you fancy a trip to Gatwick airport?” Powell asked.

“Are you taking me on holiday?”

“Not exactly. I need you to hire a car for me and a few hundred more in cash would be useful.”