black-and-white image, he wondered again what had turned the smiling, cheerful-looking young squaddie into the cynical veteran his grandfather had become. But he knew the answer. Money. Nothing more and nothing less. It made him burn with rage. He turned the photograph over. Scribbled in faded ink was: Watts 8654 – 2/6 to pay. He knew that 2/6 was how old money was written but had no idea what the other numbers meant.
The bus came to a sudden halt as, up ahead, a delivery van double-parked outside a parade of shops.
That's the bus held in traffic. Jimmy still has. Can't see Bravo One.'
Jimmy idled the TDM's powerful 850cc engine. He didn't like being in situations like this: motorbike riders don't usually hang around in traffic jams.
Fran was at the kerbside as the Golf drew up. There was no hurry as she got into the car, she did nothing to arouse the interest of any inquisitive passer-by. But the moment they were on the move she went onto the radio net.
That's Fran complete.'
Jimmy answered.
'Roger that. Jimmy still has bus, slow moving towards the lights. Can anyone at the next bus stop?'
The silver Nissan was just three vehicles behind the TDM.
'Brian can.'
'Roger that, Brian. Lights to red, we are going to be held.'
Mick was steering the Golf through quieter back-streets, following Fran's directions as she checked the route of the 36 bus in one of their map books.
This is Mick. We'll jump ahead on the bus route.'
The traffic lights changed and the bus pulled slowly away.
'Stand by, stand by. Lights to green. Can you now, Brian?'
'Brian can.'
Jimmy opened the bike's throttle and squeezed the bike through a gap between the lumbering double-decker and a van travelling in the other direction. On the lower deck, Danny heard the throaty growl of the TDM and glanced through the window as the bike roared by. He was into bikes in a big way and had promised himself one as soon as he joined the army. He shook his head; that was another plan his granddad had cocked up.
'Brian has the bus. That's indicators on.'
The bus came to a standstill and Brian pulled in behind a line of parked cars.
'Stop, stop, stop. Brian has the trigger. Doors open, people getting off. Wait . . .'
The rest of the team listened to hear if Danny was about to go foxtrot again.
'That's doors closed, no sign of Bravo One. Indicators on, that's the bus mobile.'
The bizarre game of vehicular leapfrog continued through the streets of south-east London and on towards the heart of the capital. As the bus neared Marble Arch, Danny got up from his seat and moved towards the doors.
The TDM passed the bus for the final time. Mick and Fran in the Golf had the trigger at the next bus stop.
'Stand by, stand by. That's Bravo One at the doors. He's at the doors ready to go foxtrot. Indicators on, bus slowing . . . Stop, stop, stop at Marble Arch. Fran's going foxtrot.'
Before Danny was even off the bus, Fran was on the pavement ready to take over the follow.
'Fran has Bravo One foxtrot on the Edgware Road, on the left towards the first junction left. He's checking a street map.'
Fran was briefly on her own while the others tried to shortcut their way towards Danny. It was a critical phase, but the pavement was busy with pedestrians, meaning Fran could continue for some time without fear of alerting any third party. Then she hit a problem.
'That's Bravo One approaching first junction left. That's Bravo One gone left. Temporarily unsighted.'
Fran quickened her pace, hurrying but not running: it was crucial to stay third party aware. But there was no need for her to worry. Just before she turned the corner, Jimmy came on the net.
'Jimmy has Bravo One. Foxtrot on Seymour Street. He's slowing – looks like he's searching for an address. Wait . . . wait . . .'
Fran turned into Seymour Street and saw the TDM parked towards the end. There was no sign of Jimmy, but Danny was standing outside a building with a glass canopy over the entrance doors.
'Wait
The bus came to a sudden halt as, up ahead, a delivery van double-parked outside a parade of shops.
That's the bus held in traffic. Jimmy still has. Can't see Bravo One.'
Jimmy idled the TDM's powerful 850cc engine. He didn't like being in situations like this: motorbike riders don't usually hang around in traffic jams.
Fran was at the kerbside as the Golf drew up. There was no hurry as she got into the car, she did nothing to arouse the interest of any inquisitive passer-by. But the moment they were on the move she went onto the radio net.
That's Fran complete.'
Jimmy answered.
'Roger that. Jimmy still has bus, slow moving towards the lights. Can anyone at the next bus stop?'
The silver Nissan was just three vehicles behind the TDM.
'Brian can.'
'Roger that, Brian. Lights to red, we are going to be held.'
Mick was steering the Golf through quieter back-streets, following Fran's directions as she checked the route of the 36 bus in one of their map books.
This is Mick. We'll jump ahead on the bus route.'
The traffic lights changed and the bus pulled slowly away.
'Stand by, stand by. Lights to green. Can you now, Brian?'
'Brian can.'
Jimmy opened the bike's throttle and squeezed the bike through a gap between the lumbering double-decker and a van travelling in the other direction. On the lower deck, Danny heard the throaty growl of the TDM and glanced through the window as the bike roared by. He was into bikes in a big way and had promised himself one as soon as he joined the army. He shook his head; that was another plan his granddad had cocked up.
'Brian has the bus. That's indicators on.'
The bus came to a standstill and Brian pulled in behind a line of parked cars.
'Stop, stop, stop. Brian has the trigger. Doors open, people getting off. Wait . . .'
The rest of the team listened to hear if Danny was about to go foxtrot again.
'That's doors closed, no sign of Bravo One. Indicators on, that's the bus mobile.'
The bizarre game of vehicular leapfrog continued through the streets of south-east London and on towards the heart of the capital. As the bus neared Marble Arch, Danny got up from his seat and moved towards the doors.
The TDM passed the bus for the final time. Mick and Fran in the Golf had the trigger at the next bus stop.
'Stand by, stand by. That's Bravo One at the doors. He's at the doors ready to go foxtrot. Indicators on, bus slowing . . . Stop, stop, stop at Marble Arch. Fran's going foxtrot.'
Before Danny was even off the bus, Fran was on the pavement ready to take over the follow.
'Fran has Bravo One foxtrot on the Edgware Road, on the left towards the first junction left. He's checking a street map.'
Fran was briefly on her own while the others tried to shortcut their way towards Danny. It was a critical phase, but the pavement was busy with pedestrians, meaning Fran could continue for some time without fear of alerting any third party. Then she hit a problem.
'That's Bravo One approaching first junction left. That's Bravo One gone left. Temporarily unsighted.'
Fran quickened her pace, hurrying but not running: it was crucial to stay third party aware. But there was no need for her to worry. Just before she turned the corner, Jimmy came on the net.
'Jimmy has Bravo One. Foxtrot on Seymour Street. He's slowing – looks like he's searching for an address. Wait . . . wait . . .'
Fran turned into Seymour Street and saw the TDM parked towards the end. There was no sign of Jimmy, but Danny was standing outside a building with a glass canopy over the entrance doors.
'Wait
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