The Becket Approval by Falconer Duncan (best big ereader .TXT) 📗

cocked the G36 and set off along the track back to the narrow tarmac road. Once he reached it he headed south. The salt marshes were on one side and the sprawling refinery on the other with dozens of huge, drum shaped containers spread around like giant draughts on a board. The breeze played with the tops of trees and the broad carpet of marsh grass, the shimmering rustle providing cover for his footsteps.

Gunnymede had gone a couple of hundred metres when vehicle headlights appeared behind him. He ducked into the marsh reeds as it went past.

A car. With just one person in it.

Gunnymede carried on while watching the car’s tail lights move away. A little further on they glowed brightly as the brakes were applied. The vehicle had come to a stop.

As Gunnymede got closer he could hear voices above the idling engine. A moment later, the car continued on its way into the refinery. Gunnymede dropped the screen over his left eye. He could hardly see through it. He found the switch on the thermal that turned it on. The imager kicked into life and within seconds revealed two figures. They looked like they were carrying rifles.

He continued forward, cautiously, bringing the rifle into his shoulder. The thermal images grew sharper. It crossed Gunnymede’s mind they could be a couple of local poachers. As he closed on the gate the men remained engaged in conversation. It didn’t sound like English. He needed to find a way around these guys. That would mean pushing through bushes and climbing fences. Boring and time consuming.

The gods solved the problem for him. As he took a step closer, he accidentally toed an empty beer can that rattled as it rolled away.

He froze, as did the two men now looking in his direction. Gunnymede took a slow step backwards and stopped. They were probably unable to see him but then they might if he moved again. This was an impasse. Not a good start.

Gunnymede watched one of them bring his rifle into his shoulder. He wasn’t prepared to take any risks with them and so he aimed his rifle and fired several silent bullets into the thermal shadows. They dropped like sacks, their weapons clattering on the road.

Gunnymede moved forward and eased through the gate to check on the bodies. They were both dead. And the two AK47 assault rifles were proof enough they weren’t poachers. It also lent credibility to the possibility that Krilov was somewhere nearby. He thought about calling Aristotle to let him know but changed his mind. It wasn't concrete proof Krilov was at the refinery. And there was no time to lose.

He broke into a jog along the road. The lights from the vehicle that had past moments earlier followed the perimeter of the refinery, keeping close to the water. Gunnymede followed it.

Krilov sat on a bollard on the landing stage looking onto the estuary, patiently waiting. His men lounged around, quietly chatting, smoking, some of them dozing. Bethan sat back against the rails, looking at Krilov, hating the man and fearing for herself at the same time.

A pair of headlights illuminated the landing stage. A vehicle was coming along the pipe jetty. Bethan heard it stop. The engine died and a door slammed shut. She saw a figure step onto the landing stage carrying a suitcase and move between the down lights towards Krilov. It was Jedson. Another loathsome individual.

Jedson wore a look of triumph as he closed on Krilov. The Russian ignored him and went back to gazing on the estuary. Jedson looked like he was going on holiday, dressed in a snazzy shirt and jacket. He put down his suitcase and held out a police radio for Krilov to hear. Police chatter filled the air, snippets of voices declaring various teams were moving into position, covering this section and that.

‘All good,’ Jedson said with a grin. ‘Over a hundred officers and other agencies. And all in Southampton Docks.’

Krilov nodded. ‘You done good job, Jedson.’

Jedson appreciated the compliment as he looked around for something specific and found it.

Bethan watched him as he walked over to her.

‘How’s it going?’ he asked, crouching by her.

She turned away, unable to look at him she felt so disgusted.

‘I always wanted to go on holiday with you. Never thought of a cruise though. We’ll share a cabin. It’ll be nice. Don’t you want to know where you’re going?’

‘I know where I’m going.’

‘Where’s that then? Oh, I see. You mean you’re not going across the ocean but under it. Well, we’ll see. That’ll be up to me. Depends on how well you treat me. I’m moving to Russia, you see. Won’t be able to stay here now. Not after this little caper. I didn’t think it was going to end up this way, me going to Russia and all. Not when I was first offered the job. One thing led to another. You know how it is. Sneaky little Cossacks probably knew all along. But I don’t mind. I’ll just have to get used to vodka that’s all, once I run out of bourbon.’ He tapped a shoulder bag he was carrying. ‘Fancy a drop now?’ He opened the bag, pulled out a bottle and offered it to her.

‘What is your reality?’ she asked. ‘Is everything just one big fantasy to you?’

‘If you mean, do I take everything seriously, obviously not. What’s the point?’ He smirked and took a swig.

‘You’re a child.’

He stood up. ‘Well. Be a good girl and you can join us. If not, then it will be the bottom of the big blue for you.’

Krilov’s team leader walked by.

‘Where’s the ship, comrade?’ Jedson asked him.

‘There,’ he said, pointing to a cluster of lights in the estuary.

‘There you go,’ Jedson said to Bethan. ‘All going smoothly to plan. Up you