Gray Vengeance by Alan McDermott Page A

had this?’ Harvey asked.
    ‘And why wait until now to share it?’ Thompson added.
    ‘I don’t have that information,’ Ellis said. ‘It seems only the PM and a couple of others knew about its existence, and I only learned about it thirty minutes ago. Needless to say, it’s eyes-only, and you speak to no-one about it. Understood?’
    Harvey was intrigued, and keen to learn more, though he knew he was unlikely to get anything else out of his boss. ‘Understood. We’ll head over there right now. I assume it’s based in their embassy?’
    Ellis handed over a slip of paper. ‘Actually, it’s a place called Haddon Hall, off the A34, just outside Newbury.’
    ‘That’s not going to be easy to get to,’ Thompson pointed out. ‘The last update said just about every road out of London is clogged, and the M4 is shut, too.’
    ‘I realise that,’ Ellis said. ‘Do either of you know how to ride a motorcycle?’
    ‘I do,’ Harvey told her as Thompson shook her head.
    ‘Good. Sarah, you can ride pillion.’
    Ellis went to her desk and pulled a requisition form from her drawer, which she filled in and handed to Harvey. ‘Draw that from petty cash and buy one. You’ll also want to arm yourselves. There’s no telling what’s out there today.’
    The chit allowed him up to ten thousand in cash, which would be more than enough to buy a decent machine.
    ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’
    Harvey and Thompson rose and left the office, walking down to the first floor, where the finance department handed over the bundle of fifty-pound notes without blinking. Normally, Harvey would have had to jump through hoops to sign out enough money to buy a coffee, and he suspected Ellis had called ahead. The same applied to the armoury, where they signed for a brand new Glock 31 GEN4 and three magazines containing fifteen rounds of .357 ammunition each.
    Out on the street, the neighbourhood resembled a huge car park. Traffic was at a standstill, with only cyclists and motorbikes managing to navigate their way between the stationary vehicles. A few people were still sitting behind the wheel, unaware of what was happening to the country, but most were on their phones or listening to their radios, catching up with the latest news reports.
    Harvey led Thompson along the side of the Thames at a jog, and a few minutes later they crossed Vauxhall Bridge, where a motorcycle dealership sat behind the MI6 building. There were several second-hand machines parked up outside, but Harvey wanted something reliable, and didn’t have time to have an older machine checked out by a mechanic.
    He picked out a brand new 500CC Honda and handed over six thousand to a young motorcycle salesman with the name ‘Jerry’ tagged to his chest. The money got him the bike and a couple of helmets.
    ‘We’ll need to fill out some paperwork,’ Jerry said. ‘It should only take twenty minutes.’
    ‘Sorry, but we haven’t got time.’
    Thompson showed him the police warrant card that was one of her cover identities.
    ‘This about the attacks, then?’
    Harvey nodded.
    Jerry looked uncertain. At that moment, his manager, a balding, beer-bellied man, came outside and asked if there was a problem.
    Thompson explained the situation.
    The manager shook his head. ‘Sorry, lady, but we gotta do the forms before you take the bike. You of all people should understand .’
    ‘I do,’ Thompson said, drawing her weapon. ‘Give me the money back and I’ll requisition the bike instead. You know I have the power to do that, don’t you?’
    The manager swallowed at the sight of the grey muzzle pointing at his forehead. His eyes flitted to Harvey.
    Harvey shrugged. ‘On a day like this, you really want to piss the police off ?’
    A minute and a half later, they had the keys.
    ‘You ever been on a bike before?’ Harvey asked Thompson.
    ‘Never,’ Thompson said, holstering her pistol.
    ‘Then just remember to hold on tight and lean when I lean.’
    Harvey donned