Chapter 19

Drew had only two days of his week left when the call came in. A WPC from the Glasgow station phoned his mobile to advise that someone had reported seeing someone who looked like Kenny MacGovern. The sighting was recorded as being at a small supermarket in a place called Torremuelle.

The receptionist at the hotel was very helpful and explained to Drew that Torremuelle was only a few miles further along the coast road from Arroyo. It was still early, only just after 10am, but Drew decided he needed to check this call out. He asked the receptionist to order him a taxi and he made sure he had a copy of MacGovern's photo with him.

The taxi ride took all of five minutes and Drew could tell the driver was a little bit put out at the short fare. He paid and gave the man a generous tip by way of apology and got out of the cab. The sign above the small general store proclaimed 'supermercado' but there was nothing 'super' about it.

Wandering inside the store, he could see that it stocked a wide variety of goods from food and alcohol to beachware, books and general hardware. Drew approached the woman behind the cash desk and held out the picture of Kenny MacGovern.

"Can you tell me if this man has been here?" he asked, the excitement in his voice barely disguised.

The woman peered closely at the picture and then looked at Drew.

"Why do you want to know?" she asked in passable English.

Drew pulled out his ID and held it out to the woman.

"I'm a policeman from Scotland. I'm searching for this man. He's done some bad things and I need to find him."

The woman looked at MacGovern's picture again and seemed to be considering her next response. She glanced at Drew's ID and then up at his face, perhaps calculating whether to cooperate or not. Drew could almost see her come to a decision.

"Si. He has been in the store every day for the past week. He buys only enough for one person, but like all of you crazy British he buys gallons of water."

"Do you now where he is staying?" Drew asked.

The quizzical look he got from the woman suggested she hadn't understood the way he had phrased his question, so he tried again.

"Do you know what house he is living in?"

"No, Senor. He comes, he buys, he goes."

"Does he come at the same time each day?" Drew asked.

"Sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the afternoon just after I re-open after siesta," the woman replied.

"Thank you. It would be a big help if you didn't tell him someone is looking for him," Drew suggested.

The woman simply shrugged and Drew hoped that meant she wasn't going to alert MacGovern. He bought a 2L bottle of water out of one of the store's many fridges and walked back out into the sunlight. Looking around, he took in a restaurant up a steep flight of steps and, directly opposite the store, a bar with tables on the sidewalk.

The store had a rack outside with newspapers in it and Drew decided to take up station at one of the bar's tables with a newspaper as cover. He found an English newspaper and paid for it before crossing the road and taking a seat.

The bar clearly sold food, as it had a large board displayed with pictures of a variety of dishes with prices written on them. Its clientele must be mainly tourists, as Drew noticed that all of the dishes were either British - bacon and eggs etc - or touristy Spanish dishes such as paella.

When a waiter eventually wandered out from the bar, Drew ordered a plain omelette and a white coffee. He shuffled his chair around until he was content that he had a good view of the store and the approaches to it then began to glance idly through the pages of the newspaper.

He looked up as another lone customer took a seat at one of the bar's tables. Drew nodded to the newcomer and then seemingly immersed himself back into the newspaper to discourage any kind of conversation.

Wilson Bankier had a novel with him and he pretended to be reading it as he tried to figure out why the detective had rushed to this spot and now seemed to be intent on having a leisurely breakfast. When the waiter brought the policeman's omelette and coffee, Wilson ordered a coffee and croissant.

The doctor quickly guessed that the detective was waiting for something. The way he was dragging out each mouthful of the omelette, each sip of the coffee made that obvious. His pulse quickened with the prospect that perhaps the detective was about to lead him to his ultimate prize.

A rustle of the newspaper and a sudden tightening of the detective's posture alerted Wilson that something had grabbed his attention. He tried to figure out what the detective was looking at and saw that his gaze was locked on the small store on the opposite side of the road. Wilson couldn't see anything interesting about the store and returned his attention to the detective.

He almost laughed out loud at the detective's antics with the newspaper, as he held it up higher and peered round it. Minutes later the paper was folded and dropped onto the table as the policeman hastily placed some Euros under the plate the omelette had been on and stood up. Glancing across the road once more, Wilson now saw what had the detective so excited. He recognised the man who was leaving the store and already turning to walk up the hill that lay behind it. Kenny MacGovern, the headteacher!

Drew knew he had to be cautious and avoid MacGovern realising he was being followed. He left money on the table to pay for his breakfast and raced across the road, keeping the store between him and his target. He edged up to the corner of the building and glanced round it quickly. The teacher was taking his time walking up the hill through the residential area. When he reached a corner and turned, Drew hurried forward to follow. Behind him, he didn't notice Wilson Bankier almost mirroring the steps that he had taken.

Once he made it to the corner, Drew carefully poked his head beyond the white stuccoed wall of a garden and saw MacGovern still walking slowly ahead of him. The teacher glanced back to check for traffic and Drew jerked his head back out of sight. When he dared look again, the teacher was crossing the road and turning another corner further up the hill on the right.

Drew carefully followed the teacher up the hill for another five minutes and Wilson Bankier followed just as cautiously behind him. On one final corner, Drew peered round some colourful shrubs and watched as the teacher walked up a path and entered one of the villas. He waited several minutes and then took a chance and walked past the villa on the other side of the street.

There wasn't much to see, but Drew was satisfied that he now knew where MacGovern's base was. He felt relief that he had found the teacher before he had managed to make plans to get out of Spain. Now all he had to do was convince his Spanish counterparts to arrest MacGovern before he disappeared again.

Drew set off back down the hill towards the main road. He passed the man who had been at the other table in the bar and he nodded in recognition as he passed.

Wilson had noted which of the villas the detective had been focused on and he walked past it and on up the street. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure the policeman was now out of sight and then fished a mobile phone from his pocket. He hit one of the speed-dial buttons and waited for an answer.

"Hello?"

"I've located the teacher."

"Where are you?"

"Spain. I followed the policeman to the Costa Del Sol. The teacher's in a villa here."

"He needs to be removed at once. Do whatever it takes; there's money available if you need it. Remember, I need you to extract details of an offshore bank account before he's removed."

"I'll be in touch," said Wilson, ending the call.

Kenny put the few groceries he had purchased in the fridge and decided to spend some time online before exercising in the villa's pool. He fired up the PC and began a task that had occurred to him as being of possible use. He had kept all of the responses to his e-mail message aimed at changing the trigger phrase for the former pupils on his database. Now he quickly wrote a short programme that cross-referenced the e-mail responses with the database records.

This new programme identified all of those on the database that hadn't yet responded and gave him an indication of how many people remained under the control of Luke MacNab. He was dismayed to see that there were over a hundred names in that category.

Kenny closed down the programme and decided to check his e-mail. His excitement surged when he saw that he had an e-mail from Mark MacGhee and he opened it immediately.

Mr MacGovern,

I'm still not sure I believe a word of what you claim - to be honest it all seems too far-fetched to have any basis in reality - but as you said in your message, I don't lose anything by checking into Luke MacNab's background.

I have to tell you that so far Mr MacNab looks squeaky clean to me. I'm willing to give it another few days but unless you've got something for me to work with, I don't think this is going anywhere.

Perhaps it's time for you to give yourself up and let the police handle this?

M MacGhee

Kenny read and then re-read the message. On the face of it he should have been disappointed with Mark MacGhee's lack of belief and lack of any progress. The opposite was the case however. The fact that the journalist was bothering to take the time to investigate Luke at all was a significant boost. Kenny was sure that Luke was 'dirty' and it would only be a matter of time before MacGhee unearthed something about him. He just had to hope that that happened before the journalist gave up.

Drew knew that patience wasn't one of his strengths. He had his mobile phone in one hand as he walked down the hill and the card with the contact number for his Spanish Police liaison in the other. Having located his target, the last thing he wanted was a delay in picking him up. Any delay could allow MacGovern to bolt, although Drew had to admit the teacher's relaxed appearance didn't suggest he was about to flee anytime soon.

"Hello? Is that Juan? Yes. Juan, listen, I've found the man I've been looking for. No, he's in a villa in a place called Torremuelle. How quickly can you get men here to pick him up?"

Drew stopped walking as he heard Juan's apologies.

"I am sorry Senor Maceentosh. It's not as simple as that. You need to understand that this man has committed no crime in Espana. I suggest we pick you up and we can discuss this with my superiors."

"Juan, the Spanish authorities have already confirmed that they will cooperate with the UK authorities. The fact that this man hasn't committed a crime in Spain is irrelevant. I need you to pick this man up before he disappears again. There's no time to waste. This needs to be done now," Drew urged.

"Where are you Senor? I will come and pick you up and we can discuss this, no?"

Drew's frustration threatened to overwhelm him, but he could tell that losing his temper wasn't going to make things go any quicker. He described where he was and Juan suggested he would only be fifteen minutes or so. Ending the call, Drew tried to remain calm as he resumed his trek down the hill towards the main road.

Wilson remained concealed until he saw the detective picked up by a Spanish police car. Once he felt it was safe to move, he returned to the bar and ordered a diet coke and wracked his considerable brain trying to think of how he was going to carry out the Church's latest orders.

"Where am I going to find someone to do what the Church wants? There are bound to be all kinds of criminal elements here who would do anything for the right amount of money. There's even a whole host of dodgy characters from the UK who live here on the Costa Del Sol. Hardly a week goes by without the newspapers at home reporting another 'Mr Big' living the good-life on the back of one armed heist or another.

"My problem is how to find the right person and how to get them to take me seriously enough to kill a man without any delays? I suppose that money does have a tendency to overcome reluctance and the Church has indicated that money is available. What's the going rate in Spain for something like this?"

Wilson stared off into the distance, his gaze on the shimmering Mediterranean. Shaking himself, he pulled his mobile phone from his pocket and glanced round to make sure no one could overhear him. He hit the speed dial once more and waited for an answer.

"Hello?"

"It's me. Look, I can't see how I'm going to be able to find somebody to do what you want. I don't know anybody here and the police could be along at any minute to pick the teacher up. It's too risky."

"Wilson, have you heard of the Church of Cyberscience and what it can do for you?"

The doctor's eyes glazed over at the use of the trigger phrase.

"Lister carefully, Wilson. The Church needs you to kill the teacher yourself. What you have said is true; there is no time for you to find someone else to do this and the police could pick him up at any time. That has to be avoided at all costs. The Church of Cyberscience wants you to do this, Wilson. Now, the Church of Cyberscience is ended."

Wilson shook himself and looked down quizzically at the mobile phone in his hand. He couldn't remember taking the phone out of his pocket or who he had intended to call. The phone went back into his pocket and he stood up, a purposeful expression settling on his face. He had a job to do for the Church and there was no time to waste.

Crossing the road, Bankier entered the 'supermercado' and he looked around for something that would help him do the Church's work. A board on one wall held a series of cheap chef's knives and he made a beeline for them. Freeing one from its binding, he tested the blade and examined the point. The blade was about seven inches long and one and a half inches wide. Satisfied that it was just what he needed, he made his way to the cash desk and paid for the blade. The woman carefully wrapped it up in a few sheets of plain paper before handing it to him without a second glance.

Bankier was still urgent in his movements. The Church had confirmed that there was no time to lose, this job had to be done immediately. He exited the store and began walking briskly up the hill, ignoring the heat. Finding the street where his target was proved easy enough and there was no pause as he walked up the path towards the villa's front door.

"Don't forget the bank account details! Wound him first and then get the information before finishing him off."

The doctor rang the bell and stood waiting. He held the knife behind his back and carefully slid the paper wrapping from it, gripping the handle firmly in his right hand. Kenny MacGovern opened the door and the doctor lunged at him, the blade flashing in the sunlight.

"Where are we going?" Drew asked.

"We need to speak to my superiors, Senor. I can't just take a decision on my own to arrest this man. How do I know we have the right suspect?"