To Kill a Grey Man by D C Stansfield Page B

Century and it had a concealed
bolt hole and passageway which was not on any plans.   He thought of the old adage taught to him so
many years ago at Spy School.   ‘Never
enter any building that you do not have at least two exits from.’

 
    Yesterday he had found it, cleared away the cobwebs, oiled
the hinges and checked the passageway was clear.   He was glad he did as it was still fresh in
his memory.   As he stumbled through the
concealed door he threw across the bolt and as quickly as he could he stumbled
along the old passageway to freedom dragging his escape bag.   Behind him he could hear shots as each room upstairs
had the door kicked in and it was raked with machine gun fire.

 
    Martin was worried as soon as he got in the house.   As destroyed as it was, it was clear that only
one room was furnished, the front room.   Everything else was bare boards and empty.   “That means the bastard was not using the
house at all!” he thought.   Then he
wondered if there was a cellar.   He
quickly located the door and threw down two hand grenades.   Once the noise had stopped he went down the
stairs two at a time.   The cellar was
full of half destroyed computers, an old camp bed, a rail
with clothes hanging on it and a small kitchen area but no one there.

 
    He walked round carefully.   There must be another exit he reasoned. Finally he saw it.   Behind a damaged false wall was a small round
oak door.   He pulled the cast iron handle
but it was obviously bolted from the other side.   He swung round the SA80 which was on a strap
over his shoulder and sent a burst into the door but this was old iron and hard
solid English oak and all he produced was splinters.   He shouted up to Rob, “Get me the shotgun, quick.”

 
    Big Rob sprinted to the Land Rover and was back in under a
minute.   Martin took aim.

 
    The Grey Man had stumbled the full
length of the passageway.   His knees and
shin’s were bloody and bruised.   Twice he
had walked face first into the wall as the passageway had curved.   He was not a young man and he felt every one
of his years.   With his chest heaving, he
threw himself on the grass knowing his pursuers were just behind him.   He heard the shotgun boom from inside the
remains of the house.   He reached inside his
bag grabbing a small box.   He flipped
open the catch and pushed a button.   Inside
the house, the explosives that he had laid so carefully yesterday in the
basement went off   with an almighty bang and
the whole house lifted up off the ground before disintegrating.   The Grey Man was lucky that he was laying down
away from the passage entrance as a blast of superheated air burst from the
opening and screeched into the sky.

 
    Martin and his men ceased to exist in that one blinding
moment.

 
    The Grey Man lay there in the thick wet grass for a full
five minutes recovering.   Then, hearing police
sirens he got up and staggered towards the trees that he knew were a little off
to the right.   Once in the woods, he lay still
hoping he was hidden under bracken.   His
mind was racing.   He realized it was no
coincidence that his blindness and the attack came at the same time.   How did they know though?   The only conclusion was the telephone call he
had just made.   Someone in The Firm had
gone bad.   It shocked him to think
this.   The Firm was his and normally he
would now just make a call to be safe but who to trust?   Then he thought of Surge and Collins.   They must now be in serious danger.   He carefully went through the phone routine
and this time hit speed dial four connecting him with Collins.

 
    Collins had been existing day by
day.   The shop had helped give him an
anchor as had the work from The Firm but he still felt low.   Now though, once The Grey Man had
said they were operational and with the thought of danger, he was pumped.   The adrenalin was flowing and he felt alert
and alive.   For the first time in a