Wait Out part 1 (true or false you decide!!)

CHAPTER ONE

I hadn’t slept for twenty-seven hours. I was tired and emotionally drained. My watch slid easily around my wrist, my wedding ring threatened to fall off my finger, both were signs of dehydration, signs I’d been used to too many times over the years. Tired or not I’d decided to make the three and half hour drive from Hollyhead docks to Stoke, that way I’d get to see the wife and kids for a couple of hours before reporting to my unit in the south. It was a typically filthy February night, the wind slamming the side of the car with buckets of rain. Twenty minutes from the ferry I was alone, not another vehicle in sight. I glanced into the rear view mirror just to make sure. In the gloom a sunken eyed, long haired, bearded face stared back at me. I smiled to myself, what a hell of a state for a serving British soldier. I’d forgotten what is was like to be clean shaven and wear the Queen’s uniform.

In the summer of 1990, the telecommunication licensing board forced the BBC to move Radio 2 from Medium Wave to FM. From that time on I had a war with my radio, as I tried to listen for more than thirty minutes without having to adjust it to counteract the poor reception. 88-91 FM’s narrow band attracted static like moths to a light bulb. At midnight the battle was in full swing, selection being further hampered by the Welsh mountains, automatic tuning, and the need to keep the car on the road. The radio was winning, in desperation I prodded the band selector hard with my left forefinger and found the BBC’s World Service. The well-practiced announcer’s voice filled the car:

‘TONIGHT IN DUBLIN MICHAEL MAHONE WAS SHOT DEAD AS HE ENTERED A TELEPHONE KIOSK. IT IS BELIEVED THAT MAHONE HAD BEEN HIDING IN THE REPUBLIC FOR MANY YEARS FOLLOWING HIS ESCAPE FROM CRUMLIN PRISON WHERE HE WAS SERVING A LIFE SENTENCE FOR THE MURDER OF A NORTHERN IRELAND POLICE OFFICER AND TWO BRITISH SOLDIERS. POLICE BELIEVE THE PROVISIONAL IRA MAY HAVE BEEN RESPONSIBLE, HAVING CARRIED OUT HIS EXECUTION FOLLOWING AN INTERNAL ROW.’

I was puzzled, this is a ‘load of bollocks’, I thought. The location was right but the name was wrong. Eager to get more information I sent the automatic tuner on its travels, stopping at every encounter with a news reader. None made mention of the killing.
I only heard that report once in my life and to my knowledge it was never repeated.

“ Steen” I said to myself “ you’re dead you bastard”.

Despite the confusion, I was content with the job I’d done, although the announcement left me a little concerned. For the next few miles I tried to put the radio announcement out of my mind, but couldn’t, I had to know. I eased my foot off the accelerator, stretched across to the passenger seat feeling for my mobile telephone. I keyed the first number the cold green keypad light came to life allowing me to quickly dial the rest of the unit’s emergency number. It would have been easier to speed dial but it was against standing orders to have the number stored, although changed regularly the sequence was imprinted in my memory to forget could mean the difference between life and death.

“Hello,” Jenny's familiar soft voice trickled into the earpiece.

“Op’s room please.”

“Wait one, I’ll put you through.”

The line went silent for a moment followed by an ear piercing click as the emergency phone was snatched from its cradle. “Sergeant Davies.”

“Davy,” I said. “It’s Griff.”

“Problems?”

“I’ve just heard a news report on BBC’s world service it mentioned my recent sorte, but the name was wrong. Any thoughts?”

“The media often get things wrong, you know that.”

“Yeh, I know but this doesn’t stack up, I knew the target well, it was definitely the right target.”

“Then don’t let it bother you. You know the score, there’s no sweat here. Where are you?”

“On my way in.”

“It’s probably best if you come straight in, no detours.”

Davy’s pitch changed, it sent a warning message to my brain. “Something’s wrong, isn’t there?”

“Come on in and we’ll talk about it, now’s not the time.”

“I’ll see you later.”

I thumbed the button key to end the call, the line fell silent. I tossed the phone back onto the passenger seat and accelerated away. The tiredness left me. My mind drifted back to the beginning of the operation and then even further. Steen had been around for ever, we both had. According to the intelligence he’d had a hard start in life, but so had I. He was an out and out bastard, an evil piece of shit that needed killing.