Coincidence Theory Read online

Chris gazed at the daylight streaming down the ramp and tried to clear his mind. What were these men doing here? How did they get beyond the security perimeter? Why today? The questions came in waves, and horridly, insipidly, the dreadful stirrings of answers followed.

  As Chris mused, gentle footsteps approached. “We have to leave.” he said, already knowing who was approaching.

  “Not before you tell me what the hell is going on.” said Louisa. Her bright, elegant countenance was wracked with apprehension, and her face still bore the fading red of her exertions.

  Chris pointed to his right, beyond the two guards he had killed, where a set of bootless feet protruded from between two cars. “His name is Charles Younger. He has two children. I’m Godfather to one of them. A while back, he complained about chest pains and seizures, but the military said it wasn’t their fault. When I got the assignment here, I got him reassigned to base duty so he could finish his required service for full pension, without having to fight any more.” He pointed to the top of the ramp where a swirl of hair, matted with blood, stuck out from behind the parked jeep. “His name is…” Chris stopped, sighing under his breath. That was no longer the correct tense. “His name was John Matchell.”

  Louisa looked down at the body of one of the guards by her feet. There, written in standard military print, was a nameplate. It read ‘Charles Younger’. She stared open-mouthed at Chris, revelation quelling any further questions.

  “Whoever did this is trying to finish the job they started.” said Chris, taking up from where Louisa’s brain left off. “Whoever did this has cancelled the clean-up crew I ordered, or worse. They may even be watching us as we speak.”

  Chris shook his head. There were too many possibilities to consider, and inaction could now be fatal. They had to keep moving.

  Smiling as best he could to keep Louisa calm, Chris led her back over to the rest of the group. “Our situation is compromised.” he said, eager to keep his words measured. “It is also evident that our communication with the outside world is compromised. Our best course of action is to get as far away from here as we can, and attempt to find a means of clarifying our predicament.”

  “Predicament?” asked Dave, his disbelief evident in his curt tone. “What predicament? Our best course of action, colonel, would surely be to sit here and wait for the military to turn up and tell us what’s going on!”

  Dave’s ire was an irritant Chris could do without right now. He had to quash his comments quickly, or the man’s downtrodden attitude may spread to the rest of the group and throw his plan into chaos.

  “Would this be the same military that has not yet sent the clean-up crew we requested? Would this be the same military that has not turned up en masse to find out what’s going on at one of their secure sites?” Chris said, keeping any hint of anger from his voice. “Or would this be the same military that has not yet sent a single person to help in the extraction of civilians from a potentially life-threatening situation?” The questions hung there for a while, as heads began to drop. Good, his point had hit home. “We are out of simple choices. Therefore, I will be leaving this place in five minutes. Those of you who wish to join me should follow. Those of you who choose to remain…” Chris paused, knowing a suitable break would add just the right amount of gravitas to his parting comment. “Well, in that case, I wish you good luck.”

  “We can’t just run away from all this! What about our lives?” said Dave.

  Chris turned, starting his march to his vehicle before he responded. “Your primary concern should be focused on them continuing, not how they may have changed professor. You can do nothing about what has happened here if you’re dead.”

  “Surely we should go to the nearest police station and report this colonel.” said Justin, jogging to catch up.

  “If you can cancel a clear-up crew and lock a high level, underground base down, I don’t think you’re the sort of person who cares about trifling things like police.” said Chris, understanding Justin’s position. “How would we know we can trust them? Or anyone else at present?”

  About fifty feet from his car, Justin still considering his words, Chris unlocked his car. Thankfully, the boot opened with a click, but more importantly, without explosion. It was safe to get close.

  Chris strode over and pulled back the carpet. Taking his mobile from his pocket, he turned it off, throwing the lifeless unit inside. He reached around to one side of the boot and withdrew a small, leather pouch.

  “Can I ask you what you’re doing?” said Justin, watching Chris work.

  “Mobile phones can be traced even if they are only searching for signal, and can be very accurately pinpointed during use. I suggest you get everyone to turn theirs off and drop them in here too.”

  Justin did as he was asked. After a few bleated complaints, he returned with three mobile phones and threw them inside.

  Chris unzipped the leather pouch and emptied his wallet’s contents into it. He then retrieved a sealable freezer bag, and proceeded to refill his wallet with the collection of credit cards and SIMs it contained.

  “If these new ones are yours, they can be traced too can’t they?” said Justin, puzzled by what was going on.

  “They’re not mine though… sort of.” Chris said, grinning. “I am going to be driving you out of here soon. Get yourselves ready for a bumpy ride.”

  Chris surveyed the area. Spying a nicely inconspicuous saloon parked in a bay reserved for ground floor staff, he started toward it.

  “Aren’t we going to use our own cars?” said Dave.

  Dave’s lack of understanding of their situation was really beginning to annoy Chris. For an intelligent man, his questions were devoid of all measure of rationale. He needed to think. Hopefully, a firm rebuttal of the latest inquiry would give him the silence needed to focus on the task at hand.

  “That would be remarkably stupid, Dave.” said Chris, in a disdainful tone. “For all we know these people have been tracking our movements for days. Our cars may be bugged, maybe worse, and we don’t have the time or the equipment to check that. So, that means we borrow a car they would have no cause to do anything to.”

  “But what if these people are still here?” asked Dave, not taking the hint.

  “If there were still people here, then why haven’t they alerted anyone to the gunshots?” said Chris, turning to face Dave. He raised his voice, curling his lips just enough to show the man his anger. “Why aren’t there people running around screaming? None of that is happening, because someone has already cleared this base. Jenkins probably cut access to the rest of the base’s security systems last night, which would also explain why there hasn’t been a siren since we got out of our own complex.”

  Everyone turned their heads, as if straining to hear the distant wail. The realisation the bleating of the siren was now missing coming as a surprise to all of them.

  Thankful the current inquisition was over, Chris removed a utility knife from his pocket and pulled out the smaller of the two blades. He walked straight up to the car selected, a ten-year-old Ford, and rammed the blade into the lock. With a powerful twist of his wrist, the mechanism gave out a heavy clunk. He placed his palm against the door and pulled, ripping the blade back out of the badly dented socket. He smiled as he pulled the handle and the door swung open. Not turning to see the surprised glances of the group, he kicked the plastic housing away from the underside of the steering wheel. Leaning over into the foot well, he located the plastic wire connector behind the metal key insert and jabbed his knife into one edge. Taking the car out of gear, he held the connector tightly and turned the knife. With a sense of satisfaction, he listened as the car spluttered twice and started up.

  Job completed, he turned back to the group and met their quizzical stares with a grin. It was time to lighten the mood and get the hell out of this place.

  “Have you done that before, colonel?” asked Justin.

  “What? Haven’t you?” Chris said, transmitting
a smile to everyone. “Now, have we all been to the toilet?” As Louisa helped Dave into the back of the car, he turned to Justin. “It looks like there’s no need to call shotgun private.”

  A squeal came from the tyres, as Chris completed a fast two-point turn. Once outside the parking bay, he kept his speed high, as he scanned their surroundings for signs of activity. There was none. The complex was deserted. It was unsettling to contemplate what occurred that morning, and the organisation required in accomplishing it. Who was involved, and why? They were questions that needed answers.

  In only a few moments, they were flying beyond an empty security post and out toward the main road.

  As Chris pulled onto the dual carriageway beyond the entrance, he slowed enough to ensure he did not draw attention to their vehicle and began to put as much distance as he could between them and the base.

  As he drove, Chris continually scanned the vehicles around them. He knew that anyone following them would have to keep the same pace, and on the narrow road, their weaving to maintain line of sight would be conspicuous. After a few miles, he relaxed. Luckily, it appeared they were not being tailed.

  Slowing further, and pulling in behind a delivery truck, he returned his attention to what had transpired that morning. He needed answers, and the only people who could fill in the blanks in the story were now sitting in the car with him.

  In Chris’ experience, if information was required it was easier to allow people a platform to divulge their ponderings, and then piece together what you needed from what came out. He knew that questions could be distractions to vital trains of thought. Therefore, he needed a starting point, something vague enough to allow the conversation to evolve unhindered.

  “I need to know if anyone has any ideas about what’s going on?” Chris asked, knowing that most of the group’s thoughts would already be on the topic.

  “I’ve thought of little else this morning, colonel.” said Dave, his face still ashen. “I’m still perplexed as to why we are in the situation we are in. I’ve eliminated the events as being personal in any way. I believe whoever is doing this is after the artefacts.”

  “I have a theory.” said Louisa, turning to Dave. “It’s obvious whoever did this couldn’t just take the artefacts or Jenkins would have shut the internal security down and removed them himself. Maybe he couldn’t risk something so direct.”

  Chris nodded. That was probably true. If you acted alone, you made yourself a target, especially if you were the only one with the skill to pull off the event. It made sense that whoever organised what happened, planned it meticulously.

  “But what about the base’s security and calling off the clean-up crew?” asked Justin.

  “They obviously have people in high places.” said Louisa, noticeably uneasy with her train of thought. “They’re probably the ones who don’t want to be exposed. The point is that they waited for some other events to unfold before they took their opportunity. They were waiting for one of us to make a mistake, so that when they acted it appeared as though we were responsible. The only thing I can think is that Professor Linley was somehow involved.”

  “That’s a point. Where is Linley?” asked Justin, suddenly aware of his colleague’s absence.

  “I don’t know, and that worries me, because Professor Linley is my prime suspect for the murder of Doctor Geffers.”

  The statement hit the occupants of the car like a bombshell, Dave turning with anger toward Louisa.

  “And what, pray tell, makes you think something so heinous about poor Harry?” said Dave, almost snarling the words out.

  Louisa leant back, disturbed by Dave’s demeanour. She swallowed, trying to gather her thoughts before she continued. “The evidence is straightforward professor. Doctor Geffers was clubbed over the back of the head whilst at his desk. To get into a position to do that you would have to be in the room with him, as he was facing the door. As Justin has confirmed, the base at that point was secure. That means Howarth and Jenkins could not have entered that lab, as they would not have held the required level of access; neither would Justin or I. That leaves Linley, or just one other, as the potential murderer.” Louisa paused, weighing up whether or not to continue. She glanced furtively toward Chris, before returning her focus to Dave. “I’m afraid to say, as the only person to have access to every area of the base and being the person who found the body, you are my only other suspect professor.”

  Chris stared into the rear-view mirror, scanning Dave’s face for any sign of culpability. The lines on his brow were creased, and it was clear that he was desperately trying to ascertain the veracity of Louisa’s accusation, but there was nothing to suggest he was the culprit. It was evident however, as Dave rubbed his forehead and stared into his lap, there was definitely something in what Louisa said that struck a nerve. Chris could not be certain, but something in what Louisa just explained, Dave already knew.

  “So what do you think happened?” asked Justin.

  “I’m not sure.” said Louisa. “I believe whatever happened to Doctor Geffers occurred independently of the attack Jenkins instigated, and somehow that triggered the sequence of events we just experienced.”

  Chris was impressed. In any other circumstance, due to her figure and looks, he would not have suspected Louisa to be as adroit as she was proving to be. Her thoughts could very well be right.

  In Chris’ previous vocation, one thing that was frequently required was a patsy. Someone who could conceivably be responsible for an action, but was only made to look that way so the real perpetrator could get to safety. Perhaps the people who wanted the artefacts had been waiting for one of the research team to get edgy about them; lurking in the background for the right moment to make their move. If Jenkins’ attack had been successful, all eyes would have been focussed on Linley, just like theirs were now. Everyone would have their patsy, and Jenkins would have been free to escape with the real target, the artefacts.

  “If I’m right though,” said Louisa, still lost in thought, “it still doesn’t explain where artefact three is.”

  “We’re missing an artefact?” asked Justin.

  “When we were collecting everything to bring to the surface, we found artefact three was missing from Professor Linley’s lab.” said Louisa. “I suppose Linley could have it. But why take just one?”

  “What was it?” asked Chris, trying to nudge Louisa into divulging more than she should.

  Chris attended the briefing on ‘cross contamination protocol’ after he took the assignment. Apart from being the most mind-numbingly boring three hours of his life, it informed him that each artefact was to be investigated separately, with no discussion on findings allowed above what was approved by Professor Edwards. That meant outside discussions on their investigations were prohibited. Maybe, with the group’s current mental distractions in play, he could prise out just enough to fill in yet more gaps in his understanding.

  “A four inch diamond of metal, covered in an unknown script. It may have been what prompted the actions of Professor Linley.” said Louisa, distractedly.

  Before Louisa could continue, Dave nudged her in the ribs and shook his head. It was clear to Chris that Dave did not want her discussing the finer detail any further.

  “The good thing is that when we get chance, I should be able to look through the data on the drives I saved and come up with something to prove we’re not involved.” said Justin. “So, what’s the plan now colonel?”

  The question took away Chris’ ability to press for more information, but he knew it needed answering. He had always kept his own escape routes planned, just in case any of the covers he held were blown and someone tracked him down for his actions. It appeared those plans would now need expanding to include the people in the car.

  “Take this, private.” said Chris, as he handed Justin a phone from his pouch and selected a SIM card from his wallet. He removed a second handset and fumbled, one-handed, to get it working. “Get that thing fired up and go t
o the web. You’ll need Facebook open.”

  “Why am I doing this?” asked Justin, already working to activate the handset.

  “Just one sec.” Chris was holding his newly constructed phone to one ear, raising a single finger to guarantee silence. “Hi Barry! Just thought I’d leave you a message to let you know I’ll be over near you today and thought I might pop in at your work for a catch up. If it’s ok, I’ll be bringing along some work colleagues of mine. If it’s not, let me know. See you tonight maybe!” and with that, he hung up, dismantled the phone, and tossed the SIM card out of the window. “Sorry about that Justin. Are you in Facebook yet?”

  “Yes colonel, but I’m still unsure why.”

  “That’s the easy part. Go into the search and type your own name in.” said Chris, as Justin did as asked with practised efficiency. “Now look through each of the results and find one from the UK with a visible personal information field. You’ll need a full address, date of birth, place of work, and preferably one with a mobile number. Once you have one, and please don’t use your own if it’s on there, note down the details and repeat for everyone else.”

  It was an old tactic, but an effective one. Chris knew that most security agencies tracked people through associations made in financial and government databases. Using the information they were gathering, they would be able to link their identities, and thus their motives, to someone else. It may not buy them much time, but it would be enough to get them clear of danger.

  After another ten minutes, their tasks were complete. Each of the group now had a ticket reservation from Dover to Calais for a ferry journey that evening, booked to an email account created using their alternate identities details.

  “And we’re doing all this to buy us enough time to go and see this Barry guy?” asked Justin.

  “His name’s Carl.” said Chris, shaking his head. “You lot should focus on the brain stuff and leave this sort of thing to me. Ok?”

  Chris hoped he had the trust of everyone in the car. He knew many of the tactics he was employing were not part of people’s standard training, but use them he must. He also knew what the group really needed to keep them going was a firmly delivered plan. He drew a deep breath, knowing the timbre of his words was critical, and thought of something suitably motivating.

  “I probably owe you an explanation about what we are about to do and it will be up to you if you wish to follow me.” Chris said, lowering his voice and distancing the words so that every pronunciation stood out. “After today, I’m sure you’re all confused and shocked. You shouldn’t worry, it’s perfectly normal when faced with a situation like this. I know you all have your doubts about what we’re doing, but you have to believe me when I tell you that if these people, whoever is behind all this, can do what they have done to the security services today, then making us disappear is not going to be difficult. We have stumbled on to something they want, and it does not take a genius to realise we are now a threat to everything they are trying to do. Remember, we are the only ones who know the truth of what went on back there. However, after what happened, I’m not sure who to trust. We need to find out who is behind all this, so we can approach the right people and clear our names. If we go to the wrong people, we may as well be committing suicide. Therefore, I need you to trust me. I need you to do as I ask, so I can use my abilities to give you enough time to use your brains to figure this out. I can’t do this alone. We need to work together to get to the bottom of this.”

  Chris looked round the vehicle. Justin was nodding his acceptance and Louisa and Dave, although troubled, were not gesticulating in any way that would make him surmise refusal.

  “So, as there are no objections, I believe we should get to East Midlands airport.”

  “What?” said Justin, the surprise in his voice echoed in the shocked faces of the back seat. “Why do we want to go to the airport? I thought we were travelling from Dover?”

  “That’s what the paper trail will say. It will say we are trying to hide the fact we are going from Dover, so attention will be focused there.”

  “Won’t there be people waiting for us in Calais whether we fly or go by boat?” asked Louisa.

  “But we’re not going to Calais.” said Chris, with a grin. “We’re flying to Amsterdam.”

 

  Chapter 10