The Pulsar Files, page 24
part #1 of Matt Flynn Series
‘Hi Rosie, why the glum face? I hear you passed. It’s great to have you back.’
She turned to see Matt staring at her, an unreadable expression on his face.
‘Oh, hi Matt. Thanks. Sorry, I was looking at some mails and got sort of engrossed.’
Matt pulled over a seat and sat down facing her. ‘How are you doing?’
‘I’m fine by all accounts.’
‘Not suffering from depression, flashbacks or any of that stuff?’
‘Christ, you sound like our jolly psychologist, Doctor po-faced Harrison.’
‘He is a bit of a misery guts, right enough. How do you want to play it? Do you need a few more days to rest or are you itching to get back into active service?’
‘Stuff the resting. Since the kidnap I’ve done nothing but read reports and shove papers around. I’m ready to get back into it.’
‘Are you sure? It’s only been a few days since you were convinced Daniel Leppo and his pals were about to kill you. If you need to take time to sort yourself out, no problem. Jess and Joseph have been briefed on the next stage of the plan and–’
‘I’m fine Matt, really. I don’t need any more time off. The Doc says I’m good to go providing I pass an unscheduled monthly.’
‘Ok, enough of my fussing. Here’s what we’re planning.’
Chapter 44
Matt screwed up his Bounty bar wrapper and was about to let it fall on the floor, when loud tutting from the driver stopped him. He put it in the cubby-hole under the armrest instead.
‘I think I preferred it when you were still in captivity.’
‘Oh, you can be so cruel,’ Rosie said. ‘If I was, who would keep your scruffy self on the straight and narrow?’
‘Maybe I don’t want to be kept on the straight and narrow. Maybe I like being untidy.’
Since the kidnapping, Rosie had passed a medical, Firearms Assessment and a psychological assessment, all concluding that she didn’t suffer from any after-effects of her enforced incarceration or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. In Matt’s opinion, she did suffer from ‘nuisanceitis,’ pestering him non-stop to return to operational duty, but he believed the cause to be nothing more serious than boredom. To ease her back into active duty, he allowed her to accompany him on this mission on the strict understanding that she would only be his driver and any rough stuff would be left to him.
If at one time they suspected Daniel Leppo was behind the kidnap, they now knew for sure. He didn’t go as far as swapping business cards with Rosie, but she recognised him from his picture on the Dragon website. When he came to the house where she was being held, he spoke to her guards as if they were hired hands. He made it clear what he wanted them to do and warned them he would put a bullet into any guy who hurt their captive. If his statement was designed to make Rosie feel better, the next bit didn’t. If anybody was going to do it, Daniel Leppo said, he would.
‘Matt, don’t you think-’
‘Hold on a sec. There he is. Remember, follow me in the car.’
‘I might be fresh out of the psychologist’s chair but I haven’t lost my marbles. I’ll be there.’
They watched as a sharply-dressed man appeared at the rear entrance to Dragon’s UK sales office in Hertfordshire. Matt exited the car and walked over to Walter Ingham’s Mercedes D Class. On getting closer he ducked down. When Ingham unlocked the central locking and reached for the door handle, Matt opened the passenger door and slid into the thick seat. Ingham was stepping into the car when he spotted the stranger sitting there and froze.
‘What the hell–’ was all he could manage before he noticed the gun aimed at his balls.
‘Get in, Ingham, or lose your manhood forever.’
‘What do you want?’ he said, defiance in his voice despite doing what Matt asked. ‘Is it the car? Do you wanna steal it?’
‘I’ve got a car, but I wouldn’t mind a big Merc like this. No, I’m not here for the car, just drive.’
Away from the sanctity of the Dragon building, Matt instructed him to drive along the main road. ‘Where are we going?’ Ingham asked, after he had negotiated the traffic lights at the crossroads.
Matt poked him in the ribs with the gun. ‘Shut the fuck up. You’ll go where I tell you and don’t try speeding or flashing your lights to alert police; I’m one of them.’
‘I was born in Brooklyn, buddy. I know bullshit when I hear it.’
Matt sighed. ‘I’m an agent with HSA. Think of it as a combination of the NSA and FBI with a British accent. In short, it means I’m armed and authorised to shoot you if you don’t cooperate.’
‘You can’t do this! This is the UK, I’ve lived here for–’
‘You’re testing my patience, Ingham. Now, shut the fuck up and drive.’
Ingham did what he was told as Matt directed him to a safe house in north London. It was one where he could park the car at the back of the house and get Ingham inside without raising the antenna of over-zealous neighbours.
Matt pushed him into a chair in the kitchen, pulled his arms behind his back and secured them with plastic ties. He didn’t do it as he feared retaliation or escape, but the feeling of helplessness would have a debilitating effect on the subject.
‘Hey what are you doing? I’m an American citizen–’
Matt slapped him across the face.
‘Speak when I ask you a question.’
‘I’ll sue your ass when I get out of here.’
He received another slap. ‘You’re not listening, Ingham. Don’t speak unless I ask a question.’
Matt picked up another kitchen chair and placed it opposite his prisoner and sat down. Ingham looked the epitome of a successful businessman: tanned after-shave-soaked skin, expensive shirt and suit. If the company boss wasn’t such an out-of-condition, overweight slob, a punch from one his fists containing many gold rings and having the weight of either a thick gold bracelet on one hand or a Breitling diving watch on the other, would deliver a knock-out blow to most men.
The expression on his face, irritation mixed with anxiety, made him look like a man used to getting his own way and not adjusting well to his new-found position in the second-string.
‘You are Walter Ingham, Chief Executive of Dragon Technologies UK, yes?’
‘Yep.’
‘Are you a director of the US company?’
‘I’m on the board.’
‘Good. So, you know about Pulsar?’
‘It’s our star product.’
‘You’ll also know about the dirty tricks your people have been pulling, including blackmail and murder, to ensure every country you target buys it.’
‘Now wait a minute, fella. I’m a businessman, not a criminal. I don’t know anything about murder. You can’t–’
‘Your role here in the UK is what? To sell Dragon’s products to the likes of the UK Military and NATO?’
‘I came here to establish Dragon’s presence in Europe. We’ve never been a big player in this arena, now we’ve got our chance with this fantastic new product.’
‘Called Pulsar.’
‘Yeah, Pulsar.’
‘You do this how?’
‘The same way any other business sells their products. Show them how Pulsar performs better than the opposition and when they’re hooked, give them the support plan and financing package they want.’
Rosie had followed him to the safe house, ostensibly to run him back to the office, and was sitting in the next room. Matt called her in. If Ingham had been involved in her kidnapping, he had to be a good actor as he showed no hint of recognition, but then Rosie didn’t either.
‘Who’s this?’ Matt asked.
‘What’s this, some kinda test? Never met her before in my life. Hey, you’re not gonna try and blackmail me with a prostitute–’
Matt punched him on the side of the face.
‘She’s not a prostitute, you fucking shithead,’ Matt said as he grabbed a handful of coiffured hair and pulled hard. ‘Make another comment like that and I’ll shoot you.’
‘Aghh,’ the captive screeched.
‘Stop playing the idiot, Ingham. You, or people working in your organisation, kidnapped my colleague here and threatened to kill her.’
‘I swear, I had nothing to do with any kidnapping. Where are you getting these wild accusations from?’
Matt let go of his hair and eyeballed him. ‘I’ll make it simple for you. People working for Dragon are trying to recover data stolen from their computers.’
‘Hell yeah, I heard about it. Everybody in the company did. Jack, that’s Jack Dawson, Head of Corporate Security, has been put in charge off getting it back. The schmuck who stole it got away with sensitive commercial data and we want it back, sure we do.’
‘What’s Dawson done to retrieve the data?’
‘I don’t know, I’m not part of the loop.’
‘Even if the trail led to the UK?’
‘Even if. See, you need to understand, fella, we’re an armaments company. We’re paranoid about leaks to the press so most information is kept in silos; a need to know basis. I don’t need to know what he’s doing to get the data back so they don’t tell me.’
Ingham was growing more confident by the minute, thinking he could bluff his way out, but Matt wasn’t finished with him yet.
‘Who’s Daniel Leppo?’
‘He works for Jack Dawson. He’s Jack’s man on the ground over here.’
‘Do you know Leppo?’
He shook his head. ‘He doesn’t come into our offices much, and what he does with his day is down to Jack.’
‘Horse shit, Ingham. We know Leppo’s on your payroll!’
‘What?’ he said looking at Matt in shock. ‘How the hell do you know that?’ His eyes narrowed, ‘Who have you been talking to?’
‘He is, isn’t he?’
His head fell. ‘Yes.’
‘You know him better than you’re admitting.’
‘I don’t, I swear to you I don’t.’
Matt pulled out his gun, squeezed the side of Ingham’s cheeks with his hand and with the other, shoved the barrel into his open mouth.
‘I’ve had enough of your lying, Ingham. You’ve got five seconds before I pull the trigger.’
‘Agh…’
‘Matt, don’t,’ Rosie said.
‘5, 4...’
‘Okay, okay,’ he spluttered.
Matt withdrew the weapon but stayed close to the shaking, perspiring figure.
‘Yeah,’ Ingham said, ‘I know him and I know he’s a nasty son-of-a-bitch, but it don’t mean I condone his actions.’
Matt lifted the gun to his face again and nudged it against his cheek.
‘It’s the truth, I swear it is. He does his own thing as directed by Jack. I just pay the bills.’
‘Where does Leppo hang out?’
‘He’s got a house in Hemel Hempstead and access to a warehouse we own in Hitchen.’
He turned to Rosie, watching with professional detachment. ‘What do you think?’ he said, in a voice quiet enough the captive couldn’t hear. ‘Do you believe him?’
‘I think he’s telling the truth. Leppo is the one we should be after.’
‘I think so too,’ Matt said, ‘but I don’t think Ingham’s hands are squeaky clean either.’
‘Me too. I think he’s dirty.’
‘He knows what Leppo’s been doing and did nothing to stop him. Too busy counting the bonuses he receives for making Pulsar sales.’
‘Leppo’s over here to recover the documents,’ Rosie said, ‘but someone has to be orchestrating the incriminating videos and blackmail. It might be him. What do you want to do with him?’
He pulled out his phone.
‘Who are you calling?’
‘The Captivity Team. Dragon Technologies will need to operate without their Managing Director for a while. We can’t have this guy warning Leppo that we’re coming after him, can we?’
Chapter 45
They arrived in Hemel Hempstead shortly after eleven, and ten minutes later drove past Daniel Leppo’s rented house. He lived close to Hemel Hempstead Football Club, but Matt couldn’t see Dragon’s Head of International Security using his spare time to stand on the terraces drinking mugs of Bovril and waving his team scarf. It was a detached place, not close to any neighbours but central for main road links.
Due to Leppo’s uncompromising behaviour, Matt decided they would return the compliment. Included in the team were Matt and Rosie, Joseph and Jess and a unit of five ‘heavies’, consisting of a door opener and several heavily-clad room searchers who arrived in a prison-style van. They parked close to the house but out of sight and switched off all engines and lights.
Matt got out of the car and stretched; it had been a long week. He walked to the boot of the car and extracted a flak jacket and put it on. He handed one to Rosie who did the same. Matt made sure his gun was loaded and ready to fire before scanning the area around the house. He checked its position relative to neighbours, the layout of the garden and garage, the wind, the weather, and made sure no dog walkers were loitering, ready to take pictures on their phones before inviting friends and neighbours to join them. In the house where Rosie was being held, they’d used subterfuge to deny the kidnappers time to kill their hostage, but for this one they would deploy classic police tactics: hit them hard and fast.
With the door banger in position they waited. Bang-bang-bang and the front door of the house fell open. One of the heavies on the team, a big man, over six-four and built like a prop forward, stepped inside and shouted, ‘Police! Hands in the air! Let me see your hands!’
The assault team piled in and moved through the house like a well-oiled machine, pushing doors open and sweeping them with the barrel of their guns. They didn’t meet anyone until the kitchen. Matt, walking behind two of the assault team, could see a broad-shouldered guy sitting at the kitchen table. He fitted the description Rosie gave of Leppo’s right-hand man, King, a man who had threatened to rape her.
He obviously didn’t hear the noisy police entrance, perhaps due to the thick walls of the house and the radio on the worktop playing loud rock music. The guy wore an FBI-style shoulder holster and, on spotting the intruders, reached for his gun.
‘Leave it!’ the lead officer shouted.
The hand continued to travel along the leather strapping and made contact with the weapon. He gripped the handle and, almost in slow motion, the grey metal body emerged.
The lead officer’s gun responded with two short bursts. The gunman’s previously white t-shirt now displayed two large blood-red marks, their circumferences gradually expanding. He toppled from the chair and fell to the floor.
Matt ducked out of the room and nodded to Rosie standing beside him, but her face displayed no emotion at the killing of her tormentor. He set off in search of Leppo, the man’s image etched in Matt’s brain. He and Rosie checked the main ground floor rooms as the assault team had done minutes before, but found nothing. Believing he might be hiding, Matt opened what he thought could be a store cupboard and discovered stairs leading down. He nodded to Rosie to follow him.
‘Shouldn’t we wait until the assault team are finished upstairs and send them down?’
‘Why let them have all the fun?’
Matt descended the stairs, Rosie close behind him. She closed the cellar door to block the light at their back, not wishing to make themselves easy targets, with the added benefit of shutting out the noise of the heavy-booted team upstairs. Her actions didn’t give the HSA agents a problem as the stairs and the cellar below were illuminated, perhaps with safety lighting or because someone was already down there.
The cellar looked large and spacious without all the clutter of a family home; no outgrown bikes, unused mattresses or scrap books. Instead, it displayed the neat, orderly sparseness of a rental. At one end, a tidy pile of packing cases, their contents clearly labelled, while at the other, the armed figure of Daniel Leppo, hunched over the blood-stained form of Chris Anderson, tied to a chair, head slumped. Bizarrely, an iPhone attached to a mobile speaker was playing Beethoven’s 1812 Overture in the background.
‘Drop the gun, Leppo!’ Matt called. ‘We’re armed!’
Leppo didn’t turn on hearing his shout or look around to find out who uttered it, but instead ducked behind the inert figure of Chris and pointed his weapon at them. ‘Get back or I’ll shoot!’
He had taken a good position behind the chair as, despite a stocky and muscular appearance, the chair and Chris’s slumped body hid his profile effectively.
‘The game’s up, Leppo. King isn’t coming down to help you. Let Chris go.’
‘You must be crazy. I hold all the cards punk, not you.’ He turned the gun and placed it against Chris’s head. ‘I don’t like people pointing guns at me. Put your guns down or the kid gets it.’
‘You’re making a big mistake,’ Matt said. ‘You don’t have the stolen documents and he can’t give you them if you shoot him.’
‘Ha, you think I’m stupid? I know where his laptop is; he just told me. My boys are on the way right now to pick it up.’
Matt felt a wave of panic. If Leppo had managed to kidnap Chris, he had to be aware of the Windsor house. The vision of Lisa and Louise being confronted by a couple of armed men didn’t bear thinking about. He needed to stop this charade now and warn them.
‘Getting hold of the laptop won’t be the end of this.’
‘You bet it will.’
‘No. The documents are also saved to a separate hard drive and to the Cloud. They can be accessed from any computer.’
‘You’re bluffing.’
‘Maybe I am, maybe I’m not, but let’s face it, you’ve messed up this like you did with all your other botched attempts to silence him. You could have asked him yourself if you hadn’t been so bloody heavy-handed. I imagine Jack Dawson’s patience is wearing thin.’
