The Men In The Shadows ( Part 32 )

Jake. pic

Jake desperately wanted to feel something. A sense of fulfilment, or achievement. Even closure. But it didn’t happen. His brain wouldn’t let it. He went into auto pilot. Those feelings would have to wait. He had to act quickly. The narrow lane was quiet and empty but there was always a chance of someone on their way to, or coming out of Drysdales.
Paul Barrett was a big heavy man. Jake grabbed his body by the arms and slowly dragged him off the road and into the bushes. The hours of gym work in prison were now paying off.
There was a shallow ditch just a few yards from the road and Jake rolled Barrett into it. He covered the body with fallen leaves and branches from the trees overhead until he was confident that it couldn’t be seen from the lane. He returned to the car. The engine was still running and the driver’s door was open. Jake got in.
He hadn’t driven a car for almost twelve years. He’d had lessons when he was seventeen but had never got around to taking his test. He was confident he could still remember the basics. He closed the door, put his left foot on the clutch and pushed the gear stick into first. Slowly he released his foot from the clutch whilst at the same time gently touched the accelerator with his right. The car moved away slowly. He continued in first gear until he reached the entrance for Drysdales. He didn’t enter the grounds, if he did he was sure that he would be captured by their CCTV.
Instead, he continued driving slowly along the lane. After about a hundred yards he came to a halt. It was a dead end. In front of him were two large expensive looking detached houses. Their lights were already on and there were cars in the driveways. Just in front of Jake were two empty car parking spaces. He carefully manoeuvred the car into one of them. As he went to switch the engine off he noticed a mobile phone on the passenger’s seat. He picked it up, turned it off and put it into his pocket. He opened the car door and got out. He clicked a button on the ignition key. The indicator lights came on and then he heard a thud as the doors locked.
He calmly walked along the lane and past the point where he had shot Karate Kid. It was almost dark and the pool of blood in the road was barely visible. The lane had no street lights and Jake was confident that it would rain overnight which should wash most of it away. Besides, he was sure that even if it did leave a stain, most roads in the area would have blood stains on them due to roadkill.
After a mile he threw the car keys into a nearby field. A few hundred yards further on he stopped and took Paul Barrett’s mobile out of his pocket. He dropped it on the ground and stamped hard on it four of five times. His heavy walking boots crushed it with ease. He picked up the pieces and threw a piece of it away every few hundred yards on his way to Hunstanton station.
He counted the cars that he saw on his way. Only seven. He was hoping that no one was really taking any notice of a lonely hiker on his way into town.
He was lucky. He only had to wait a few minutes before his train arrived. The carriage had ten people in it. Jake took off his rucksack and put it on the seat next to him. Then he closed his eyes, lowered his head and pretended to sleep until he reached Dersingham. He walked to the cab office and asked for a taxi to take him to Kings Lynn. He was told it would be around ten minutes wait. He took out his mobile and called Drysdales.
“Good evening. My name is Paul Barrett and I’m booked in for tonight and tomorrow.”
A woman answered.
“Good evening Mr Barrett how can I help?”
“There’s been a change of plan in my schedule which means that I won’t be checking in until tomorrow now. Is that okay?”
“That’s fine sir. But we will have to charge you for tonight as the cancellation is at such short notice.”
“That’s absolutely fine with me. No problem at all. I’ll be with you tomorrow evening.”
Jake hung up. So far so good.
The cab took him to Kings Lynn. This time he told the driver that he was from Chelmsford and was enjoying the walking around the area. He made a point of saying that he was staying in Kings Lynn for four or five days.
Kings Lynn was a big town. He took his time here before he began the next part of his journey. He was twenty miles away from Hunstanton. Instead of getting a train he took another mini cab, this time he went to a small town called Narborough. He had a beer in the local pub then caught a train to Swaffham. He was now forty miles from Hunstanton.
In Swaffham he wasted no time. He got a cab to Easton. He had only six miles to go to Norwich and the safety of his Hotel. He decided to walk. It was one road and it took him an hour and a half. When he finally arrived at the Phoenix he went straight to his room. It was almost ten o’clock.
He fell on the bed and was asleep in seconds.
He woke up two hours later. He put on the small TV in his room. He was hoping there would be no news on Paul Barrett yet. There wasn’t.
He undressed and put all the clothes he’d been wearing into the rucksack. Tomorrow he’d have to get rid of everything before got back home. He ran through the events of the day in his mind.
He’d been careful all the way to Hunstanton. He travelled by cab and train and stopped four times. The roads he’d walked on his way to Drysdales would have no CCTV. He’d worn woollen gloves when he shot Karate Kid and all the time he’d driven the car so there would be no fingerprints. He’d destroyed Barrett’s phone and dumped bits of it over half a mile of Norfolk countryside. He’d returned using a different route and changed cars and trains three times and then walked the last six miles to the Hotel. Tomorrow he would get rid of all the clothing, his pay as you go phone and the Glock.
Hopefully he would be back in East London and one hundred and twenty miles away before anyone discovered Karate Kids body. Then he could relax, enjoy a pint with Stevie then start looking for the last of the Three Amigos.

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