This continues from the end of The Spouse Disposal Service
"Oh no !" thought Deborah looking at the screen on her car. "I really loved that job." reminiscing on the amazing times she had had with the other guys.
The text on the screen read "Execute Protocol One". This meant the organisation had been irreversibly compromised and all players had to sever all contact with each other and disperse. She drove to the nearest underground car park. She parked away from the other cars. She selected ‘Protocols’ on the touch screen and then selected 'Protocol 2 -> Execute'. She used the 60 second count-down to grab her stuff from the boot and run as fast as she could out of the car park. She didn’t duck when she heard the muffled explosion from the underground car park but quite a few other people did. She hailed a taxi, got in and asked the driver to take her to St Pancras station. She wiped any finger prints from her mobile phone and comm unit and hid them under the seat. She smiled at the thought of the police chasing the taxi all over London thinking she was stupid enough to still be in it and carrying her phone.
When she arrived she quickly paid the driver in cash and walked into the station. She walked to a locker, opened it, removed a back-pack, shut the door and walked away. In her line of work it was vital to have an escape route. She walked into the ladies toilet, into a cubicle, opened the back-pack and used the clothing and wig inside to quickly change her appearance. When she was happy she packed the old clothes into the back-pack, pulled out some cash, a spare passport and left the toilet. When you have been doing her line of work for a while, you get a ‘feel’ of who is a normal civilian and who is undercover police / special forces, Deborah sensed that the two women who had just pushed past her were undercover police.
“Shit ! that was close !” she thought as she went to buy a train ticket.
The other members of the ‘Spouse Disposal Service’ dispersed in a variety of ways to avoid detection and, most importantly, leave no trace of their activities. The first step was to ditch any mobile phones. Sometimes they would be destroyed and sometimes they would be left on public transport to leave as many false trails as possible. The second step was to destroy their vehicles with particular attention to the various ‘additions’ that had been added to each one so that any police inspection would conclude they were just normal vehicles. The third step was to grab their stuff, if possible, and disperse as widely as possible.
“God, if I ever meet up with that bastard again ... ” thought Alison Coulson as she lay in the ambulance with a bullet wound in her side. The wound was necessary to keep up appearances but the bullet had grazed a rib and hurt like hell. She wondered how the two men had escaped the explosion, or if they had escaped at all. She would know in a few weeks when she had healed and returned to work.
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