Tested by Fire by David Costa (the little red hen read aloud TXT) 📗

had the effect that the first they knew they were in the middle of a terrorist attack was when the bullets started to hit their body, or the bomb had already exploded. When it was too late to stop the attack.

Reece wanted to get off these pavements as soon as possible. Moving in crowds gave you cover but at the same time gave cover to those who may be following. He crossed the road taking one of the quieter side streets heading in the direction of Grosvenor Square. He picked up a newspaper and found a café with a seat inside at the window.

Reece hated warm milk. It always reminded him of his childhood when his mother would pour hot milk on his morning cereal. He liked good coffee and when ordering in cafés he always made sure to ask for a little cold milk on the side. The waitress brought the coffee. He poured the milk in himself keeping it strong and the way he liked it. He opened the paper and between the stories and the sips of coffee he watched the people pass in the street. He’d not spotted anything that gave him any concern, but he wouldn’t drop his guard. He would keep watching, observing. He was working now, and he would continue to take a circuitous route stopping in at least two more cafés before finally arriving at the final point where he would be able to observe from a distance the people moving in and around the restaurant where he would be meeting Mary ‘Mike’ McAuley.

 

 

Chapter Nine

Costello arrived at a service station on the M56 near Chester and made a call to a local number. When the man answered, he said, ‘It’s Paddy. I’ve arrived safely and am on my way.’

‘Your home is ready. The keys are under the flowerpot by the front door. The fridge is stocked. Make yourself at home and I’ll be there about five tonight,’ the man replied.

The line went dead. Costello read the text he’d just received giving the address and postcode of the house which he fed into the satnav then drove onto the M56 and headed to Manchester. The street in Irlam was quiet when he pulled into the driveway of the house. He retrieved the keys from under the flowerpot and opened the door to a large garage and drove the van inside. The house and the street were exactly what he’d asked for. There were four large houses, none overlooking another, and the house where Costello was staying was the first on the street. This meant the neighbours wouldn’t notice any unusual coming and going. A street where people kept to themselves.

Costello closed the outside door of the garage staying inside with the van. He entered the house by the internal door through the utility room then into the kitchen. He checked out the rest of the house which was fully furnished and of a typical three upstairs bedrooms with a bathroom, with an open-plan living-dining room downstairs.

A small garden to the rear surrounded by a six-foot panel fence completed the picture. Costello estimated that from pulling the van into the drive into the garage and closing the garage door had been no more than a minute. Prying eyes, if there had been any, would have seen little to talk about. Costello brought two items from the van into the house: his holdall and a Browning pistol which he stuck down the waistband of his trousers, pulling the fleece down to conceal it from view. He switched on the kettle, turned the TV on to Sky News, and settled down to wait for the others.

 

 

Chapter Ten

Reece had walked the full circle around Grosvenor Square passing the old American Embassy twice. He’d walked through the park area of the square and sat on a bench near the statue of President Franklyn Roosevelt where once again he read his newspaper. He’d sampled two more coffees in nearby cafés. All his tradecraft in surveillance confirmed he was alone. At 12.30 he inserted his radio earpiece and spoke, ‘Control, this is Alpha One coming online, over.’

The voice in his ear confirmed his message, ‘Roger, Alpha One, you’re coming in loud and clear.’

Reece replied, ‘Roger Control, moving to view primary location. Will keep you updated.’

‘Roger, Alpha One.’

Reece made his way to the top of Grosvenor Street just off the square. Corrigan’s was one of his favourite restaurants in London, one he’d used many times. He’d first used it the year he’d recruited Mary McAuley.

She’d travelled to London on a shopping and theatre weekend bus trip from Belfast. It gave Reece his opportunity to carry out a long debriefing of information. It also gave him the opportunity to work on her agent tradecraft; the kind she’d need to stay alive. Realistically, to make sure they would both stay alive. He’d taken her to Corrigan’s on her second night when she was supposed to go to the theatre.

Mary had turned up with her flowing black hair combed to fall loosely on her shoulders and down her back. She wore a fifties style floral dress. Her brown eyes and dark olive skin gave off a Latin complexion. Reece had forgotten how beautiful she was. He’d tried to be the ultimate professional, but he knew from that night his feelings for Agent Mike would never be the same again. He briefed her on how to contact him using her code name and agent number, BC15, and helped her memorise the special agent phone number. Never to write down anything connecting them both.

Mary took everything on-board quickly, understanding everything Reece explained to her, she was a good listener. Reece had known from the start that she was a smart woman. The more they met and talked, the more he knew the path she’d chosen had been decided after much thought and heart-searching.

The dinner