[Scott Pearce 03] White Fire by Adam Hamdy

Author:Adam Hamdy [Adam Hamdy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B0BW9TY2MK
Publisher: Pan Macmillan
Published: 2023-08-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 47

Pearce ditched the motorbike on a side street near Northolt tube station. He removed his ski mask and laid the bike on its side between two parked cars, so it would be harder to spot. He hurried along the residential street, past a parade of shops, and across a dual carriageway that was almost deserted. It was too early for rush hour, too late for ravers. He caught a dawn train into Central London and got off at Greenford to take another train going west, back the way he’d come. He changed trains and directions a couple of times until he ended up in Shepherd’s Bush.

He emerged from the modern station beside the Westfield Centre as rush hour was starting, and took comfort in the number of people who were around. He left the station and went to one of the payphones on the broad promenade that led to the huge mall.

He used his credit card to place a call, and it was answered after a couple of rings.

‘It’s me,’ he said.

‘We found the scientist’s financier,’ Leila replied. ‘An old friend of ours.’

Leila paused.

‘Alexis Tippett-Jones,’ she said at last.

Pearce was stunned. Alexis Tippett-Jones, the woman who had shot and killed her own father to save Pearce’s life.

‘She’s connected to the Greek and whatever’s happening over here,’ Leila went on. ‘Through an outfit called the Overton Group.’

Pearce churned the events of the Black Thirteen investigation through his mind. Had Alexis murdered her father to protect a wider operation? She’d played the victim to perfection, but was she the one really pulling the strings? He thought back to that night after he’d faced down Hector Drake, and recalled the look of recognition on her father’s face. Was there acceptance? Had he known he needed to die? And the Overton Group was a sick joke. The Overton Window was a well-known theory that described the acceptable limits of political policy. Shift the Overton Window and you could make previously unimaginable policies palatable.

‘Thanks,’ Pearce replied. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

‘Be careful,’ Leila said.

‘You too,’ he responded before hanging up.

He leaned against the phone, feeling like a fool. Had his pity for Alexis blinded him to the truth? He cursed his poor judgment and turned away from the phone only to be shocked by the face that was inches away from his.

It was Louis.

‘Hello, Sam. If that is your real name. Who were you on the phone to?’

Pearce tried his best to dissemble, ‘Jeez, mate. You gave me a fright. What the heck are you doing here?’

He tried to move away from the phone.

‘Easy, fella,’ Louis cautioned, drawing Pearce’s attention to a pistol he held in the pocket of his hoodie. ‘I asked you a question. Who were you on the phone to?’

Pearce didn’t answer.

‘Farida told me she’d seen you out by the woods. Asked me to follow you.’ Louis held up his phone, which displayed a locator beacon. ‘She put a tracking device in your boiler suit.’

Pearce couldn’t believe it. He’d been tagged and tracked by amateurs.

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