48 Hours - A City of London Thriller by J Jackson Bentley Page B
Authors: J Jackson Bentley
Ads: Link
exited the security gate and walked across the
lane to the wooden ramp that led onto the wharf. In ten minutes the
story would be told and Josh would be safe.
Andrew walked through the brick tunnel and emerged into the
bright early morning sunshine as Tower Bridge came into view. Ahead
of him stood a modern, stylised stainless steel pedestrian bridge
with steel grating walkway. It was no longer than five metres
because the only thing it spanned was an old disused unloading bay.
The small pool underneath the bridge was flooded by the Thames at
high tide, but now it was just a muddy quagmire with the occasional
wave lapping in.
A few yards away a wooden jetty ran out into the Thames to
accommodate the river taxis and tourist boats. It was still
deserted. The first boat of the morning had not yet arrived. A
light mist hovered low over the surface of the water, already
dissipating in the morning air. The scene was bathed in the golden
light of the late summer sunrise, and the few trees in the area
were already beginning to show the first hint of autumn in the
yellowing leaves, but the air was fresh and cool and the rays of
the sun cast long shadows across his path.
Andrew was entirely alone apart from a grey squirrel which was
hunting around for food, and a jogger who was moving at a pace that
could easily have been exceeded by most people walking briskly. Why
do they do it, he asked himself. Run or walk, but that slow jog is
pathetic.
The jogger was dressed in a grey fleece training suit, his
hood up against the cool river breeze. He stopped a few yards away
from Andrew and did some hamstring and calf stretches, using the
railings for support. Andrew leaned against the handrail to make
room for the jogger on the narrow bridge. The jogger reached the
small bridge and the accountant felt it move with the extra weight
of the new occupant. The jogger was moving towards him, fists
shadow boxing the air.
“ Loony,” thought Andrew, and looked away to avoid eye contact.
The jogger stopped directly behind him. Andy could feel his
presence and turned around to tell him to clear off. When he saw
the face beneath the hood, he froze.
***
Bob saw the shock on Andrew’s face and took his opportunity. A
leather sap, or cosh, filled with lead pellets swung up and caught
the young accountant directly under the chin. Bob saw the young
man’s eyes roll back into his head and his body go limp. He knew he
didn’t have long. Having scoured the wharf for signs of life a
minute earlier as he’d feigned stretching, he knew they were alone.
Taking the weight of Andrew’s body, he leaned him against the
railing and tipped him over.
The young accountant toppled face down into the muddy quagmire
as Bob looked on. After a few seconds Andrew shuddered and began to
come round. Thrashing wildly, he could do no more than pull himself
deeper into the mud; his manic efforts to save himself did not last
long, and after a few moments one had to look hard to see a body at
all.
Bob looked up as a maritime horn sounded. The first Thames
Clipper of the day was approaching. He turned his back and walked
away in the direction he had come from, as though nothing at all
had happened.
Chapter 14
Butlers Wharf, Tower Bridge, London. 7:05am.
We picked up the Thames Clipper at Greenwich at five minutes
to seven, and the high speed catamaran skimmed along the Thames at
the speed limit for less than ten minutes before we reached our
destination. On those occasions when I took the glass sided
Clippers, with their spectacular views of the bridges and the city,
I always promised myself that I would use them more often and
abandon the overcrowded Tube. On a morning like this, with a clear
blue sky and just a light breeze, it seemed especially
appealing.
We alighted at Tower Bridge and I looked around in the early
morning sunshine, searching for Andrew.
Dee hadn’t been to this area of London before and was
surprised at how upmarket it had all become. Two of
lane to the wooden ramp that led onto the wharf. In ten minutes the
story would be told and Josh would be safe.
Andrew walked through the brick tunnel and emerged into the
bright early morning sunshine as Tower Bridge came into view. Ahead
of him stood a modern, stylised stainless steel pedestrian bridge
with steel grating walkway. It was no longer than five metres
because the only thing it spanned was an old disused unloading bay.
The small pool underneath the bridge was flooded by the Thames at
high tide, but now it was just a muddy quagmire with the occasional
wave lapping in.
A few yards away a wooden jetty ran out into the Thames to
accommodate the river taxis and tourist boats. It was still
deserted. The first boat of the morning had not yet arrived. A
light mist hovered low over the surface of the water, already
dissipating in the morning air. The scene was bathed in the golden
light of the late summer sunrise, and the few trees in the area
were already beginning to show the first hint of autumn in the
yellowing leaves, but the air was fresh and cool and the rays of
the sun cast long shadows across his path.
Andrew was entirely alone apart from a grey squirrel which was
hunting around for food, and a jogger who was moving at a pace that
could easily have been exceeded by most people walking briskly. Why
do they do it, he asked himself. Run or walk, but that slow jog is
pathetic.
The jogger was dressed in a grey fleece training suit, his
hood up against the cool river breeze. He stopped a few yards away
from Andrew and did some hamstring and calf stretches, using the
railings for support. Andrew leaned against the handrail to make
room for the jogger on the narrow bridge. The jogger reached the
small bridge and the accountant felt it move with the extra weight
of the new occupant. The jogger was moving towards him, fists
shadow boxing the air.
“ Loony,” thought Andrew, and looked away to avoid eye contact.
The jogger stopped directly behind him. Andy could feel his
presence and turned around to tell him to clear off. When he saw
the face beneath the hood, he froze.
***
Bob saw the shock on Andrew’s face and took his opportunity. A
leather sap, or cosh, filled with lead pellets swung up and caught
the young accountant directly under the chin. Bob saw the young
man’s eyes roll back into his head and his body go limp. He knew he
didn’t have long. Having scoured the wharf for signs of life a
minute earlier as he’d feigned stretching, he knew they were alone.
Taking the weight of Andrew’s body, he leaned him against the
railing and tipped him over.
The young accountant toppled face down into the muddy quagmire
as Bob looked on. After a few seconds Andrew shuddered and began to
come round. Thrashing wildly, he could do no more than pull himself
deeper into the mud; his manic efforts to save himself did not last
long, and after a few moments one had to look hard to see a body at
all.
Bob looked up as a maritime horn sounded. The first Thames
Clipper of the day was approaching. He turned his back and walked
away in the direction he had come from, as though nothing at all
had happened.
Chapter 14
Butlers Wharf, Tower Bridge, London. 7:05am.
We picked up the Thames Clipper at Greenwich at five minutes
to seven, and the high speed catamaran skimmed along the Thames at
the speed limit for less than ten minutes before we reached our
destination. On those occasions when I took the glass sided
Clippers, with their spectacular views of the bridges and the city,
I always promised myself that I would use them more often and
abandon the overcrowded Tube. On a morning like this, with a clear
blue sky and just a light breeze, it seemed especially
appealing.
We alighted at Tower Bridge and I looked around in the early
morning sunshine, searching for Andrew.
Dee hadn’t been to this area of London before and was
surprised at how upmarket it had all become. Two of
Similar Books
