Control:Escape

By Martyn Taylor

Steve Arkwright broke through walls, digital walls; secure resilient firewalls. That they were there was the challenge, he had to get to the other side. Then he smashed one too many and the men in suits who knocked on his door were not happy, but they had a plan and it involved a choice - with only one possible answer- sign here and you are ours.
Scared, isolated and broken by the weight of their authority he signed on the line, in his future others would decide on the lines he would cross and where his searching fingers would dance like spiders across the keyboard.
This was a gilded cage, and they might control where he goes, but not what he thinks, and there was his escape. He took the knowledge they gave him and used it.
Timing was the key; he needed the right time and enough chaos to help him out of the gilded cage. The gold was wearing thin and the bars were showing clearly.
His current contract, hiding behind another changed identity, gave the opportunity and threw him across the path of The Grange and unexpected allies.
Arkwright never questioned the motives of those who threw their lot in with him, he just took advantage of their co-operation and the end run was close. He made his breakout and escaped his control.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Martyn Taylor
• Release date: Aug 19, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476105338

Martyn Taylor

Yorkshire born, in Sheffield, now living in Rotherham.Married to Anne, and living in a quirky house with a lot of stairs and an enormous amount of books.Started writing more years ago than I want to remember, inspired by Ian Fleming, John Buchan, Alistair Maclean and Jack Higgins. Working in longhand, by typewriter and then with an old laptop and a printer. “One day I’m going to write a novel” arrived and in August 2002 became “Today’s the day!" A beginning, an end and the urge to write. The result was ICELINE, a thriller about abduction, smuggling and dodgy diving in Western Scotland.CONTROL:ESCAPE is the second novel about Steel and the characters at The Grange, revealing more of the place and the people who pass through its doors. Both now published here at Smashwords. There will be more!WHAT YOU ASK FOR was the Nanowrimo entry for 2012; reaching the 50,000 word target in 29 days and carrying on to finish the story. Currently undergoing proof-reading and editing prior to submitting it for the Premium catalogue here at Smashwords.The fourth novel in The Grange series THE OBEDIENCE OF FOOLS draws its name from a quotation by Douglas Bader and weaves its way around the Urban myth of the Strategic Steam Reserve.Fascinated by the human stories behind history, the intmate aspects of great events. Myths and legends, folklore and intrigued by urban myths.I enjoy a film with a good story, Matrix (all three parts), V for Vendetta – the final scene outside parliament with the masked crowds; Dambusters; Where Eagles Dare – Richard Burton on the radio with “Broadsword calling Danny Boy”Call in at my website and blogspot for updates on new work and smashwords discount coupons

Book preview

Control: Escape

By Martyn Taylor

Published by Martyn Taylor at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Martyn Taylor

Smashwords Edition, Licence Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

For those who quietly spoke words of encouragement

*****

ref_Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

About Martyn Taylor

Contact Martyn Taylor

Other books by Martyn Taylor

*****

Chapter One.

(Thursday morning)

Malcolm Baker touched a finger to his lips and slid it across his throat as he sat down and lobbed his cap on the desk. Bill Jardine reached under the desk and flicked a switch. Sound is off.

Thanks. He unclipped his tie and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt.

Jardine leaned forward and pressed call on the intercom. Josie, coffee for two, large Thermos, and if anyone asks I’m not

OK Boss. The speaker crackled and he released the button.

I’m imagining all this?

Very lucid dream, Baker grinned and sat in the buttoned leather chair. Jardine closed the file on his desk and creased the spine with his thumb before he put it away in a drawer. "Out with it then, what’s the problem?

Not certain you can help. That’s why I’m doing this quietly.

Seven thirty and in uniform, wouldn’t call that quietly.

Uniform makes me invisible, so who cares about the time.

Josie came in with the coffee on a tray. Two heavy mugs and a two litre pump action Thermos flask; milk and sugar. Jardine pumped the coffee into the mugs, spooned two heavy teaspoons of sugar into one and handed it to Baker who stirred it well.

Go on, Jardine waited until Josie had left the room, what’s happening.

I have a problem with your old firm, Hoplite; I’m working with special branch on their latest project because we think it may have policing possibilities.

Why not take it up with Michael Spear?

Baker scratched the side of his head. That is the problem; he may be implicated. There’s a security breach somewhere in the company and I can’t find it yet, I have my suspicions but nothing more at the moment.

And you want me to spy on my best mate? For a moment Jardine’s voice carried the accent of his childhood in the north east. That’s asking a lot.

Baker drank a mouthful of coffee and gave himself time to think. No, I don’t want you to spy on him, look, I want to help. I can’t really believe that he is tangled up in whatever is going off, but I have to be sure, and for that I need to know more than I do at the present.

Alright, but how can I help?

It may not amount to anything, but if Michael Spear drops in can you talk to him, see what you can prise out of him and persuade him to talk to me at least?

That’s a reasonable possibility; he’s a fairly regular visitor.

Baker sat up. He is!

Yes. He likes to keep an eye on what Jessica gets up to, what father doesn’t.

You know Jessica Spear!

Jardine smiled casually. We call her Jess, but don’t tell her mother, she’d have a dickey fit.

She is particular about that, so how do you get away with it?

Jardine leaned back in the chair. She calls me Uncle Bill, when no one else is around.

Baker raised a hand. Hang on; do I want to know more?"

I’m her godfather Malcolm, you pillock, I was at her christening, her father and I chased Vivienne until she picked him and I became her godfather as a thank you for being big about it. Did you never wonder why I left the company?

Never gave it a thought, sorry Bill. Baker mumbled half apologetically half surprised.

Forget it, it wasn’t the only reason. Michael was always the brains of the outfit, I just took the risks with the testing and the next generation were coming up fast, and they were better than I had ever been, like I said forget it. I made my choice and I’m happy with it.

Baker watched Jardine closely and saw nothing to compromise his words. All right then, but can you help?

Yes, of course, there’s absolutely no problem with that. We may have gone our separate ways commercially but our friendship remains as strong as always. Any other favours while we're at it?

Baker finished his coffee and leaned to refill his mug. Can you watch the site, give it the once over and report back? He settled back in his seat with the freshly charged mug.

Jardine leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk; he chewed a thumb nail thoughtfully for a couple of seconds. I can, there are a few who could handle that reasonably well, but why can’t you put your own people in?

Too much paperwork, I need more to go on before I start a paper chase, however much I value the twinges in my guts the upper echelons of the food chain require more concrete evaluations, especially when the bean counters start muttering.

The good old bottom line, Jardine chuckled quietly, as inescapable as the bloody tax man.

Precisely.

Jardine picked up his mug and peered into it, disappointed that he’d already drained it and rejected the idea of a refill. He glanced over his shoulder at the clock on the mantelpiece; the loud tick had accompanied their conversation punctuating the occasional silence. The hands rested for a second at five to eight before continuing their relentless round. Outside the French windows the mist had cleared and bright sunlight spilled across the formal garden behind the house.

Baker caught the drift of Jardine’s thoughts and emptied his mug. You’re right. He buttoned his collar and reattached the clip-on tie before he picked up his cap.

Leave it with me Malcolm; I’ll get on it as soon as I can. Jardine stood up. They walked to the front door and Jardine stepped outside. Baker went down the steps and unlocked the dark blue Nissan Primera.

Keep me informed. He eased himself behind the wheel and closed the door. Jardine watched the car motor down the gravel drive to the road gate three hundred yards away. The narrow gravel ribbon threaded its way through a large copse and just visible above the tree tops was the chimney stack of the Porter’s Lodge, King’s Shilling. The car was out of sight before it reached the lodge.

Jardine went inside and headed for the front office. Josie Burke looked up from her desk. Hello Boss, how can I help?

Her bright character was a bonus at this time in the morning but she had enjoyed more sleep than he had last night. The regular guests to the Grange were being shuffled around to accommodate a top priority booking scheduled for four weeks’ time and some of them were irritated, especially the established repeat bookings. Josie Burke was diplomatically handling the commercial guests and keeping them as happy as she could. How are the negotiations going?

She smiled. Excellently, the majority of the guests due over the dates required are established repeats, and they have heard whispers of our other work, I think one or two of them are actually enjoying it, grabbing a whiff of the old cloak and dagger.

Absolutely, and the smell is getting stronger, he said, Can you find me the files on Hoplite, documents, maps, drawings and photographs, anything we have?

Where do you want them, the office?

No, drop them off at King’s Shilling, and can you get Steel and Langhers to join me when they finally crawl out of bed, in time for breakfast would be nice, but if they can make it for lunch that will be OK.

I’ll do that, but I think they were both out late last night. Josie said.

Red Lion?

No, Ten Acre, they were out with a picked team from the guests working with the night vision gear we bought recently.

Oh, did it go well?

Looks like it, they were out until well after two, maybe three o’clock. Josie was clearing away the clutter of paperwork on her desk.

Are you OK leaving that for a while? Jardine asked.

Yes, no trouble, the dates have been cleared; I just have to despatch the letters confirming the date changes and any discounts that they may have for their inconvenience. One of the others can deal with that. The information is on the machine already, She nodded at the laptop on her desk, and they know what they are doing.

Good, I’ll leave it with you then. Could you get me that Hoplite stuff as soon as?

Yes, you should have it within half an hour, most of it is archived downstairs, but it should be easy enough to find and bring it out. I’ll bring it down myself. She closed the lid of the computer as it finished shutting down. Josie locked it in a drawer and scribbled a note for Hannah Brown.

Josie straightened up and smoothed the creases out of her skirt, a simple grey sheath that hugged her figure and tucked in her blouse. The duck egg blue cotton seemed to go with her eyes and Auburn hair and although he couldn’t see them he knew they were green flecked with gold and smiled as much as her mouth did. She smiled as she lifted her head. Anything else Boss?

She rarely said Sir when they were out of earshot of others, but she had never called him Bill while they were at the Grange.

No, nothing else for the moment, but if you manage to gather up Steel and Langhers and bring them with the papers I would appreciate that.

I can guarantee the papers, no more.

Josie was as good as her word, the papers arrived at King’s Shilling less than ten minutes after Jardine. She came in through the front door and called out from the hall. He appeared around the corner of the upstairs landing. I’ll be with you in a minute, put them in the living room would you?

She turned left and disappeared through an open doorway. Jardine finished off his walk through upstairs and joined her a few minutes later. She was perched on the edge of the settee flicking through the documents, and checking them against the table of contents on the cover. They’re all here, she said without looking up, would you like me to stay?

No need; I’ll bring you up to date later, when I have a clearer picture myself.

Mister Spear isn’t in trouble is he?

No more than usual and he is usually in a tangle over something, but no, this may be happening at the company, and he may not know about it.

She seemed relieved and as she went out of the door Jardine stopped her short. Oh, Josie, can you find out when Jess is likely to be here again and how long for?

I think she may be here tomorrow, or at the latest Saturday morning. I don’t think she’s staying for the weekend.

She’ll not be staying; Vivienne’s big event is on Saturday night, let me know when she arrives I’d like to have a chat with her.

I’ll do that, right I’ll see you later, oh, and I’ve left wake up calls with Langhers and Steel, they should be here soon.

They weren’t too annoyed?

At having their beauty sleep disturbed, not really, anyway it’s wasted on them.

Whereas you just don’t need it?

Josie grinned and with a mumbled cheeky, slipped out. Jardine heard the front door close and the click of the Yale behind her. He would have to get up to let anyone in but that suited him. He wouldn’t be disturbed and that was the beauty of the old Lodge, there was an internal phone line to the Grange and another to the outside world. He spread the documents out across a long rectangular coffee table between the settee and armchairs and worked his way through them page by page rebuilding the memories.

Jardine picked up a map of the old airfield occupied by Hoplite. The hangars and station buildings and the runways laid north east and south west across the flat countryside and outside the perimeter to the North West lay the old gravel pits. There was a note somewhere, five acres of pits flooded to an average depth of fifteen metres, maximum twenty two. A thin screen of trees lined the edge of the pits and the airfield marking a perimeter rather than a definite boundary; although the trees would be fifteen perhaps eighteen years older now so the boundary would be more defined. The pictures were stronger now and memories flooded back. Jardine smiled at them and was beginning to piece together an idea when his mobile rang. He swiped his finger across the touch screen a couple of times before he managed to unlock it and answer the call.

Boss, Steel here, we’re a minute or so up the drive, any chance of letting us in?

I’ll be there. Jardine ended the call and opened the door as Steel raised his hand to knock. Morning Boss, you wanted to see us?

Yes, go into the living room, I’ll be with you in a minute, coffee, either of you?

Yes please, Kurt Langhers smiled, as black and strong as you can make it?

Same for me, Steel pushed open the living room door. Langhers followed him in and Jardine headed for the kitchen.

They were both engrossed in the documents on the coffee table when Jardine brought the coffee in, as promised strong and black and with a handful of wrapped sugar lumps on the tray beside the mugs. Langhers shared out the lumps and dumped the lot in the coffee. Jardine outlined the gist of his earlier conversation with Baker over the clink of stirring spoons. It didn’t take him long and they shifted their attention to the papers strewn about the table. Steel and Langhers focussed on the photographs and maps backing up their observations with questions and references to the drawings and other documents. Half an hour of intense concentration and three mugs of coffee later they re-filed the papers and Steel stood up stretching the tension in his legs. The short cropped beard he wore had a ragged edge on his cheek where scar tissue broke the line and the bristles scratched his hand as he rubbed his chin. He yawned hugely. It’s pretty vague Boss, we’ve got absolutely bugger all to work with, the stuff you have is fine but what exactly are we looking for?

I can’t say, and I’m not asking you to go there to find out anything, but Michael Spear, Hoplite and I go back a long way, way before the Grange was even an idea, and if he is in trouble I’d like to think there were a couple of people in the area that he could call on for assistance.

Fair do, I can’t argue with that, can you Steel?

Steel shook his head and Langhers picked up the map of the airfield and was comparing it with an aerial photograph downloaded from Google, how recent are these satellite images?

They’re just standard Google Earth print off.

Anything up to a couple of years old then? Langhers dropped the photograph and checked the date of the map and laid it alongside the satellite image.

Problem? Jardine was leaning over his shoulder studying the papers with him.

No, they’re helpful, I have a rough idea of the layout, OK, so we’re in but you’ll have to find cover for this weekend, we’re both due to take the guests out on the field and they want a play off at the end of the day against a staff team.

The paintball wars were a popular element among the corporate guests who came in for the weekend, usually unofficial company groups, the lads, and occasionally lasses out for the craic and the regular guests made a habit of taking on the staff when the opportunity arose.

I’ll find cover but I think the sooner you are watching Hoplite the better. Jardine straightened and looked at Steel who was still kneading the muscle in the back of his thigh.

Are you alright?

Steel nodded. Yes, just stiff, I went arse over tit in the dark last night, and I think I wrenched it.

See the Doc Harcourt before you leave, and I want you to have a word with Smith in supply. I want the wet and dry crew bus packed for the pair of you.

Where are we going then?

Jardine leaned over the photograph and tapped his finger against the gravel pits. There, I want you to set up a working base, you two will be there full time, and if needed I’ll send some of the others across and they can dive the pits, if anyone asks, you’re checking them out for Hoplite, and you have been asked by a developer to explore their commercial potential.

Twenty two metres max, average depth fifteen, five acres of surface area, I’m sure I can make that sound convincing.

You always could bullshit mate, Langhers smiled, and thank god, it’s bloody useful. When do we leave?

Jardine looked at his watch. Talk to Smithy, get the bus kitted and provisioned and be ready to leave tomorrow.

That will give us chance to finish off what we are working with the guests at the moment.

*****

Chapter Two.

(Thursday A.M.)

The chain link perimeter fence was new but as he pulled in through the gate and saw the guardhouse Baker realised the buildings were showing their age; unoccupied and crumbling except the guardhouse and adjacent buildings; and the hangars. From the outside they looked as they had done since the fifties, the paint was cracked and peeling in places, but inside the massive doors the scene changed dramatically. A three storey office block was tucked inside the hanger and its glass wall looked down on the workshop area below.

Three Unmanned Aerial Vehicles in various states of assembly rested on supports and trestles under the watchful gaze of the glass walled offices. Michael Spear had his office on the top floor with a balcony overlooking the hangar space and he leaned on the rail and watched Baker come through the doors. The modular offices were linked by external stairs zigzagging up the front and he climbed the stairs under the watchful eye of Hoplite’s driving force and major shareholder.

Spear acknowledged Baker’s arrival on the top floor with a turn of his head. Morning Malcolm, are you well?

Fine thank you Michael and yourself?

As good as I can be; any better and I think it would be unbearable. Spear watched him closely and noticed a tension that hadn’t been there before. Something bothering you?

No, Baker lied; badly, office tensions, the usual crap you know what I mean. That was true at least.

I’m sure I do, Spear turned his head back to watch the activity below. A fuselage section had been wheeled into the middle of the floor beneath an overhead gantry and was about to have its main wing assembly attached.

Is that Oystercatcher or Sandpiper?

Oystercatcher, Sandpiper should be ready next week.

That’s the smaller one isn’t it?

Yes, eight metre span, Sandpiper is fourteen.

I know they’re unmanned, but they look big enough to carry a pilot.

Oystercatcher is a shade too small, but Sandpiper theoretically, well she can, the payload package weighs as much as two grown men so she could do it easily.

Why amphibian? Baker looked down at the boat shaped hull waiting for its wings, the long slender tail and the tail plane high on the rudder, I must have asked you this before?

At least three times since you first arrived to work with us, and talking of working with us, have you seen anything of Granville and his grey suited cohorts this morning?

No, you make it sound like there are hundreds of them? There is only a handful.

Even a handful feels like an army when they’re constantly under your feet, if it wasn’t for the rigorous security they demand and the Steve Arkwright, The technician they brought with them I’d have kicked them off site long ago. Spear straightened up and looked around deciding on his next move, and the answer to your amphibian question remains the same, flexibility, in some places there are more lakes than airfields.

They were joined on the balcony by a young woman carrying a clipboard. Long black hair tumbled to the collar of her bright red polo shirt and close fitting jeans hugged her legs. Michael, your wife rang and asked me to remind you about Saturday, she's says the domestic details are taken care of but make sure that you are there.

Thank you Sally I had remembered, The smile on his face made Sally Winterton wonder if he really had; at the moment I'm not the stray that needs to be rounded up. By the way do you have any idea where Jessica might be at the moment?

Sally Winterton shook her head. Vivienne asked me the same question; she disappeared through the door in the early hours of the morning.

Right, I'll deal with that, he checked his watch, Sally clear my diary for this afternoon if you can, I have to see someone and can you get me the latest sit-rep on Sandpiper from Giddings he should have the numbers crunched by now.

The numbers are on your desk; that was one of the things I came to tell you. The simulation says it should work, without crashing the vehicle.

Thanks, but you know I don't really trust the models, they never expect the unexpected.

Useful nevertheless, Baker suggested and Spear agreed.

Certainly, but they're part of the process, I still like to see how a pilot handles the situation.

Will there be anything else, Sally was turning the pages on her clipboard, or can I run along? Her smile was sweetly devastating.

No, you can run along as you put it, just sort out the diary, I need the space clear this afternoon.

Will you be reachable?

Yes, tell Vivienne I'm mobile, and everyone else that they can leave a message.

OK. She smiled again and went back to the office.

Sally in smart casual, what gives?

She's going down to the workshop, her idea, she enjoys the change and the hands on even if it is limited to lugging bits around she finds stimulating. The chance to talk to the lads and have a bit of banter, chasing diaries for me every day can be...limiting.

...and she can keep you in touch with the troops without intruding.

Malcolm, be quiet, someone might hear you. How could you think that I would spy on my own people; Granville and the Greysuits are here for that?

Baker laughed out loud. You make them sound like a dull 50's band.

Spear smiled. Come on in, he stepped back and opened a door leading Baker into his office. The modules were stacked against the wall of the hangar so the window behind the desk stared at the hangar wall. Spear pointed at a spare seat by the desk and sat down behind the desk. Baker closed the door and the sound level dropped to dead quiet.

You must have noticed it, the atmosphere and the tension around here.

Michael that's not peculiar to here. There are always tensions where secrecy is concerned. Who can talk to whom, should you know the thing you overheard in the canteen. Be honest, it is unavoidable.

Michael Spear fidgeted with a pencil on his desk, turning the slender wooden shaft end over end on the blotter. You're right, I'm getting paranoid.

Not a problem, paranoia is helpful, to keep you awake.

Not at night it isn't. Spear laid the pencil flat and began turning it slowly, stirring the wood on the leather.

Relax Michael; you have a healthy level of paranoia.

Spear laughed. I suppose so, but it can be difficult. Frankly Granville gives me the creeps, and his minions, I don’t know, they seem reasonable blokes, so it must be slime by association.

Where are they at the moment?

No idea, Granville disappeared yesterday morning and I haven’t seen anything of him since, and the Greysuits are just lurking somewhere on the premises.

…and Arkwright?

Still asleep As far as I know, He was working late and drifted across the runway to his camper van well after midnight, according to my security team and no sign of him since... Spear rummaged around his desk and looked up as Sally stuck her head around the door.

It’s sorted Michael, your diary is clear until after the weekend, so Vivienne won’t have to worry about you being held up on Saturday.

Thanks Sally, I’ll be on my way in about half an hour, any idea where my daughter may have gone?

None at the moment, but maybe the country, have you thought of that?

Frequently, and that can keep me awake at night. She may think she’s all grown up, but her experience is slim.

Lighten up Michael, stop being stuffy; I’m sure she’s in safe hands. Sally disappeared and closed the door behind her. Spear listened to the sound of footsteps as she dropped down the stairs to the hangar floor. The hollow ring always reverberated through the modules and it irritated, especially when he was felt out of sorts. The Sandpiper Project was rapidly approaching the trials stage and too much hung on one project. It wasn’t the only iron in the fire but seemed bigger than all the others put together and that niggled. He checked his watch, nodding his head as he measured the sweep of the hands around the dial with a mental calculation of time and distance. Baker watched him, letting him work through what was in his head, finally he looked up. Malcolm, look after things while I’m out will you, just let me know if anything weird happens. I want to speak with Arkwright before I go. Spear got up and walked out on to the balcony and called down to the hangar floor. Has anybody seen Arkwright this morning?

Canteen, grabbing something to eat. A voice called back at him.

Thank you. Spear went to the canteen.

Arkwright was halfway through a bacon sandwich and a pint of black coffee. He looked up at Spear as he came in. Morning Boss.

It is, just, you look terrible.

Thanks. Arkwright chewed a mouthful of food and crumbs tumbled from his mouth. What can I do you for?

I’ll do you for something if this mucks up. I want to know, the programming. Is it done and will it work?

Arkwright swallowed. "Yes and yes. Final proof will come with the flight test in the