Hunter Hunted by Jack Gatland (best value ebook reader .TXT) 📗

to a known location, and one they would surely examine. He had no choice, though. This wasn’t an escape for him; this was still an active investigation, whether or not he was legally allowed to. He just needed a little time to set up the basics. He knew he’d created a breathing space with the trains, but how long he had, he didn’t know.

It was late afternoon by the time Declan arrived in Hurley upon Thames.

He’d caught a taxi in Maidenhead, spending the last of his money on the fee and a small tip, asking to be dropped off outside The Rising Sun pub. From here it was a short walk; one that Declan needed, if only to work out the next part of his plan.

He’d given his keys in before he escaped, so there was no way he could quietly enter his house. He remembered his father had once placed a spare back door key under a statue in the garden though, and he was relying on this to be his way in. If not, he’d have to break a window to enter, just like someone had done a couple of days ago when they stole his father’s iMac.

He also knew that he didn’t have long; the rucksack on the train would have been discovered by now, and they’d already be racing to find him. Hurley was a known safe house. It was only a matter of time before they arrived, but he’d expected this when he decided to travel here.

Passing his house, a semi-detached one on the end of a series of similar houses, Declan kept to the fence as he slid around to the side, finding a secluded spot to climb over the wooden slats, landing clumsily in his garden. Skulking through it, monitoring the surrounding houses, Declan walked over to a large statue of Diana, Goddess of the Hunt. Easily five feet in height, it was an ugly bloody thing that Patrick Walsh had loved. And, as Declan forced it from its long-standing base, creating a small circular motion to spin it around, he saw the old rusted key sunken into the ground below.

Taking it, he ran to the back door and was overjoyed to see that it still worked; the door unlocking with a solid click. Opening it and slipping inside, Declan closed the door behind him and for the first time in an hour breathed a sigh of relief. For a slight moment, he was safe.

Pulling out the phone that he’d taken from the back of a toilet in what seemed like a lifetime ago, Declan turned it on to see that Trix had been telling the truth. There was only one number in it and, as he walked up the stairs, he dialled it.

Trix answered on the third ring.

‘You’re popular,’ she said. ‘They’re spitting bullets right now.’

‘You can still hear them?’ Declan asked, surprised.

‘Of course,’ Trix replied. ‘I’ve been listening since they brought you in. They had a call from Sutcliffe about fifteen minutes ago and he was close to having a stroke.’

‘Then you know what happened,’ Declan entered his father’s study now, sliding the bookshelf across to reveal the secret room. ‘And you know I need Pearce’s address.’

‘She won’t help you,’ Trix’s voice was distracted, as if she was doing something else while talking. ‘She’d rather make a deal with Baker. If she helped you…’

‘I know, but she’s the only option I have,’ Declan sat on his father's chair. ‘I need to prove Kendis right.’

‘I’ll find the address and send it to you,’ Trix said, her tone all business. ‘Are you at your father’s house?’

‘Yeah,’ Declan replied. ‘How did you know?’

‘I said before, cell towers,’ Trix could be heard typing. ‘I know you think it’s safe there, but it’s not. Get out now.’

‘Why?’ Declan was already rising, walking out of the study, moving to the window in the study that looked out over the front garden. ‘What do you know?’

‘Get out now,’ Trix insisted. ‘It’s why Sutcliffe called the office, to put things in motion. They’re blanketing every known location of yours. Liz’s house, your old apartment in Tottenham, and Hurley. They’re coming for you.’

But it was too late. As Declan looked out of the window, he saw the flash of blue lights and heard the faint sounds of sirens through the glass. As he backed away from view, he saw the cars were already screeching to a halt outside his house and police officers were emerging, spreading out to cover both front and back entrances. Down the street, he could see another officer, a blond Viking of a man, knocking on his neighbour’s doors. Disconnecting the call and walking back to his father’s desk, Declan listened to the sounds outside; the police officers hammering on the front door, the shouts as they barked orders to each other. Soon they’d find entry into the house, and it was a matter of time before they found him.

He couldn’t help himself. He laughed at his immediate situation. He’d thought he would have had at least an hour before he had to leave. Instead, he’d only had a matter of minutes. There was no escape.

Declan was surrounded.

19

Door To Door

DCI Sutcliffe had been furious when Frost let Declan Walsh escape. He was even angrier when he learned, half an hour later that Declan had escaped, not out of the toilet as people believed, but up through the ceiling and somehow onto the roof, an escape verified by some tourists in Temple Inn who had watched ‘the man running over the roofs’ earlier.

They’d worked out that he’d escaped into Fleet Street partly through following the route, but also because twenty minutes later he’d bought supplies by credit card in St Pauls. Sutcliffe had scoffed at this; the man was a fool. How did he not understand that they could track the receipts? He obviously hoped to use speed rather than intellect, to gain distance from London. This was also obvious from