The Crocodile Hunter by Gerald Seymour (best summer reads of all time txt) 📕

part, took centre stage. Reckoned he knew how it worked, and reckoned he had read it well.

She opened the door, shook herself and water cascaded off her. “I done well.”

“Would have expected nothing else, not of you.”

“Did a bit of negotiation.”

“God, you’re a cheeky cow.”

“A discount for late booking, and a cabin thrown in.”

He helped her up and on to the bench seat, and they laughed together. He did not have to ask whether her antennae had twitched. She’d a better sense of cock-up than he did, sharp as a razor’s blade. She’d have told him. A peck on his lips, and she handed him the tickets. He powered up, went to get in line. They’d time to kill, would sit it out.

Would say to her, later, “No second thoughts, going on with it?”

Her answer; “None. Doing what we’re paid to do. Anyway, I reckon it’s all quiet ahead.”

“No offence, Mr Merrick, but time for some talking.” Dominic had twisted around to face him.

“So that there are no misunderstandings, Mr Merrick.” Babs had tilted her mirror so she had a view of him.

“My experience, mistakes happen when matters have not been talked through.”

He saw an eyebrow flicker up, regarded the gesture as intentional and impertinent.

“And mine, and the best way, Mr Merrick, to avoid mistakes is to lay down the ground rules and then stick to them.”

She noticed him blink but not in any way to acknowledge what she said.

Dominic turned to their passenger. “You’ve not yet favoured us with an explanation for why you are here, why we are here.”

Babs had extended her seat belt, was able to gaze into Merrick’s face. “When we are assigned to a situation it is because there is an estimate that total force may be required, which is what we have to offer.”

“Yourself, Mr Merrick, you described this target, as yet unnamed, as ‘serious, dedicated and dangerous’, and that means that we have primacy.”

“And you, Mr Merrick, whatever your so far unexplained role in the Security Service may be, whatever your responsibilities there, are a civilian.”

“We lead and civilians follow our instructions.”

“We say what can happen and what cannot happen.”

“Say what you can do.”

“Where you can go.”

“You are not in charge of us, Mr Merrick.”

“We call it.”

Dominic would have expected that the man from London, foisted on them, elderly and needing to rest though it was not yet night, would have started to offer a series of explanations, guarantees. “I have absolutely no intention of moving outside the orbit of the protection you are able to provide me with.” That sort of stuff. The man stayed silent.

“Not that we have been told why it is only us who are assigned when dealing with a man who is – your description, Mr Merrick – ‘serious, dedicated and dangerous’. Would have imagined that if it were believed that this individual was on his way to this housing complex then we would have called out all available resources, brought our people in from across the county. Put it at the top of any list. It’s like it’s a circle that doesn’t square.”

Babs said, “I can say confidently, Mr Merrick, that you do not appear to me to be a man with a detailed knowledge of political violence, except what is taught in seminars. We have that experience from the training programmes and can deal with pretty much anything thrown at us. Above all, given evidence of a threat, we have the ability to call for a lock-down on an area, we can sanitise it. I’m not hearing you, Mr Merrick.”

“Why have you come from London?”

“What is it that you are expecting us to do?”

“Our training is very thorough, all situations are covered.”

“If it’s the Security Service, then we assume it’s a matter of terrorism, likely the Middle East, and it could go along with where we were at dawn this morning – the beach at Deal – and a guy coming ashore having brought in a boatload of migrants. If confronted with such a man then we have a duty . . .”

“. . . and not a duty to be taken lightly.”

“. . . a duty to protect life. What that adds to is us needing a guarantee from you.”

“I reckon I know where my colleague is going, Mr Merrick. The guarantee is that you will adhere to our instructions at all times, and once you have accepted that then we can plan what is possible and what is not possible.”

“Not a matter of debate, not negotiable. We are looking for your guarantee.”

Babs said, “All our training points to these people as being ruthless, very violent and needing to be met with equivalent force.”

Dominic said, “Not wanting to scare you off, Mr Merrick, but I could wager you have never come into direct contact with these front line jihadi people. We had a lecture only last month from the military about these guys – lunatics of course – and wanting a quick ride to God and Heaven, and not caring who gets in the way.”

“I am getting aggravated that you have declined to give us the assurance we have requested.”

“I’d call it ‘pissed off’, how we are feeling.”

“So, what is your answer?”

And both drew breath. He was annoyed and she was irritated. They had pulled in by a T junction, where a slip road led to the small car park for a convenience store. They could barely see the man’s face. His clothes were those, Dominic would have said, that pensioners wore when they walked along the esplanade at Deal or were on guided tours of the Castle at Dover, went to hear a retelling of the “miracle of Dunkirk”, yesterday’s man and dressed for yesterday. His appearance, Babs would have said, showed that Five, the Box, had this one as a low priority or they wouldn’t have sent someone from the bottom of the talent barrel. No dynamism. A few late shoppers passed, barely gave them a glance. And they waited for their answer, for their guarantee, and were kept