The Conspiracy: Episode 3 by Jack Probyn

Author:Jack Probyn [Probyn, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781912628230
Publisher: Cliff Edge Press
Published: 2020-06-21T23:00:00+00:00

| EPISODE 3 |

CHAPTER TEN

MUG

The engine revved beneath Bridger’s feet. The muscles in his body clenched – especially his hands wrapped around the steering wheel – as he tore through the seventeen miles of tarmac that separated them from their next destination: Dunsfold Aerodrome.

It had taken him some time to work out the fourth clue, but with a little help from the Internet and Smithers, he’d got it.

As they pulled into the airspace, Bridger was taken aback. He leant forward and gawped at the enormous hangar in front of him.

‘This place is huge,’ he said, switching off the engine.

Dunsfold was not on par with Heathrow or Gatwick certainly. But if their search was for a key the size of a thumbnail, they would be there for hours – if not days. The runway was in the shape of a triangle, and a series of air hangers ran along the west side of the track. On the opposite side, decommissioned aeroplanes were left to rot and rust, weeds and patches of grass sprouting from the ground offering a welcome change in colour to the monotonous grey that surrounded them.

‘Any ideas where it could be?’ Smithers asked him.

‘Let me see the note again,’ Bridger said, holding his hand out.

Smithers removed the note from his pocket and passed it to Bridger; the sergeant reread it.

‘No clue. And there’s no one around to help us.’

‘Maybe we could—’

Bridger cut the man off with a wave of his hand. He had an idea. He pulled his phone from his back pocket and dialled Pemberton’s number. It went straight through to voicemail.

‘Maybe we could ask to check the CCTV? One of the brothers would have had to enter this place to leave the key here. They must have been picked up on something…’ the officer continued.

‘Assuming they have CCTV.’ Bridger dismissed the man’s idea. What was it with junior officers making suggestions? This constable was the second to try it today, and it was beginning to seriously grate on him. He was the one who had put in the years of hard work and dedication to get to where he was now. He was the one who had licked as much arse as he could to get to the point where he could make important decisions. He didn’t need some red-nosed, baby-faced arsehole telling him how to do his job.

He tried Pemberton again. This time she answered.

‘What is it now?’ she snapped.

‘Boss, I—’

‘What do you want, Elliot? We’ve just had direct contact from The Crimsons.’

‘Oh shit.’

‘Oh shit, indeed. Now, what do you want?’

‘What did they say?’ Bridger asked. He sensed the urgency and dread in her voice.

‘Where are you?’

Bridger looked around him and admired the brilliant feats of machinery in the background of the airfield. ‘Dunsfold,’ he said. ‘This place is too big for us to find anything in time.’

‘You won’t find anything,’ Pemberton added. Her voice went hoarse as she said it. ‘I have reason to believe the final key isn’t where the instructions say they are.

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