Crash Course by Derek Fee (freenovel24 .TXT) 📗

could beat a look into your opponent’s eyes. Kane was from the up close and personal school. “We have a lot of wealthy men who are not exactly squeaky-clean playing with expensive toys. What we don’t seem to have is an obvious drug-runner and possible murderer.”

“We are all assuming that your contribution to our little venture will be the unmasking of such a person.” De Vries sat in a chair at the end of the room. “Our job has been done. We will, of course, continue to compile information on everyone connected with the powerboat racing circuit. And if anything of a criminal nature were to come to light, we would pass that information to you immediately.”

Kane looked at Doc Watson. “Well, Doc, it looks like the ball is very firmly in our court.”

“That’s what they pay us for, I suppose,” Watson said closing his file.

“Any suggestions?” Kane asked de Vries.

“I understand that you are very good at what you do,” de Vries stood and took his coat from the back of the chair. “Therefore, I would not dare to offer you advice on your part of the operation. However, I would advise you to proceed with extreme caution. Virtually every man whose picture was on the screen is capable of ruthless behaviour.” He draped his coat around his shoulders without slipping his arms into the sleeves. “I will follow your progress with interest.”

Chapter Eight

The London Orbital, or the M25 to give it its correct title, was clogged as the Rolls Royce Silver Cloud bearing Kane and Bell inched its way towards the M4 and the western edge of London. The rain which beat incessantly on the roof of the car only added to the chaos on the road. Kane sat back in the deep leather seats. If you had to travel, then this was the way to do it. His eyes were half closed. He always felt this way at the start of an operation. His mind would slowly give up the personality of Mark Kane policeman and absorb whatever role SO10 had cast for him. It was like acting, with the sole difference that a lousy performance usually ended up getting the actor killed. Whether the whole operation would stand up was another question. A couple of weeks sucking in the salt air in Cornwall was one thing but there were real villains out there that needed to be put away. Bell’s quest for vengeance might turn out to be nothing but a waste of police time. Mine is not to reason why, Kane thought as he looked out at the sea of cars.

“We could have gone by plane, you know,” Bell said quietly.

“Pardon.” Kane dragged his brain back into the here and now.

“Bloody traffic.” Bell gestured at the scene outside the window. “Too many bloody cars. I remember when a man with money in his pocket owned a Ford Anglia. Now every Tom, Dick and Harry drives around in a flash motor. I was about to hire a small plane but I thought a trip by car would give us a chance to get to know one another.” He looked over at Kane.

“That’s not my particular territory,” Kane said.

Bell looked puzzled.

“People don’t get to know me,” Kane continued. “And those that do are usually in a hurry to want to forget what they learned.”

Bell turned his short body so that he was directly facing Kane. “I worked in a foundry when I was twelve. I worked like a slave. I was a skinny little lad that everybody thought would crack. But I ended up owning that company and becoming a rich man. And do you want to know how I did that? I had a sixth sense for people. Some folk can’t tell a dud from a hole in the wall but I can. I never took on a man who didn’t give me a full day’s work for a full day’s pay and I never did a deal with a man I didn’t trust. If there’s one thing that Tom Bell can do, it’s he can read folk. And in my book, you’re no dud.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You’re a sarcastic wee tyke aren’t you,” Bell laughed.

“Getting into character. The guys we’re looking for don’t recruit ‘father-of-the-year types’.”

“Aye, getting into character,” Bell said softly. He reached his hand into his inside pocket, withdrew a leather wallet and passed it to Kane.

Kane accepted the wallet reluctantly. He opened the leather edges and looked inside. It was a picture of Monica Bell. The blonde hair cascaded down the sides of her pretty rosy-cheeked face. Even in the photograph he could see the love of life shining in her blue eyes. He slowly closed the wallet and handed it back. Unconsciously, his right hand fell to his trouser pocket and brushed lightly against the wallet that held the two worn photographs that were his cross.

“She was a bonnie lass,” Bell said, looking at the photograph before putting it back into his pocket. “And clever with it. All the way to her medical degree without failing. They loved her at the hospital. She was specialising in paediatrics. Some bloody fool me. I thought it was something to do with feet.” He gave a quiet chuckle at the memory. “She could have had anything that she wanted but she only wanted to help children. Do you have any children, Mark?”

Kane felt the knife slowly cut into his heart. “No,” he said quickly. Why did he always have to deny it, he asked himself. Whenever he denied them, he remembered the words in the Bible; ‘Before the cock crows you will deny me thrice’. He wished that he had only denied them the thrice. It was already many more times than that.

“Funny that,” Bell said. “I would have sworn that you were a family man.”

“Doesn’t go with the job. Long hours. Plenty of time away from home in the company of people you wouldn’t want to bring home to dinner.