THE ENGLISH WITNESS Read Online Free PDF

decades in the past could still be
causing so much trouble.
    “Smart work, Engleesh ,” panted Alonso with only the merest trace
of a grudge in his voice and perhaps even a hint of respect, still adjusting
his uniform as they walked. “But we’re fortunate that Julio’s mother’s friends recognised
him and played along. And that the guy’s clothes more or less fitted me.”
    “Skill is knowing how to turn fortune to
advantage,” wheezed Jack over his shoulder. He was somewhat out of condition
even for a man of his age. “It’s what kept me alive forty years ago when better
people didn’t make it. Sorry if that sounds smug, but I’ve always been an
opportunist.”
    “Silence!” It was Miguel, calling back to
them as they made their way across the shadowy parking area behind the
apartment block. Surrounded as they were by concrete and brickwork, even his
hoarse stage whisper echoed back at them jarringly.
    They regrouped by the exit ramp and spoke
in whispers. “I’m going to call in for support,” announced Miguel, “but we need
to arrange a safe rendezvous. The radio won’t give our exact location away like
the phone lines, but it can be triangulated, and they’ll be able to hear every
word I say. We need a clever way of communicating our location—something our people
can decode that will keep the bad guys guessing.”
    ”Don’t you have a mobile?” asked Jack. “I gather
they’re harder to tap than exchange lines.”
    The three officers looked at one another
briefly, and Miguel hesitated before replying. “We’re not carrying them. Too easy
to track. And not really that hard to tap if you know the phone’s number or
location. What about you?”
    Jack put his hand in his pocket and pulled
out an iPhone in an orange silicon case. “It’s dead,” he replied after a moment.
“It hasn’t been on charge since I left home.”
    “Then we need a code, as I said in the
first place. Any ideas?”    
    “It depends who the bad guys are. Are they
likely to understand Basque.”
    “Probably not,” admitted Miguel, “but none
of us can speak it, and I don’t suppose anyone at HQ can either.”
    “Shame,” replied Jack. “I know a few
words. Well, it’s not safe here. Perhaps we should focus on finding a safer
location, then think about telling your colleagues where we are.”
    “Fair enough. Any ideas?”
    “Possibly. I’m assuming the bad guys are
more dangerous in their cars than on foot.”
    “To a degree, yes.”
    “So we need somewhere that’s only accessible
on foot, but not too far from the road. I’ve got an idea. Shall I take the
lead?”
    Miguel hesitated a moment too
long before replying, and before he could ask questions Jack was on the move. He
advanced in a peculiar hunched posture – not unlike a competitor in a walking
race – as the voices in his head resumed their clamour for attention: Keep
moving. Keep your head down. Don’t make a sound . The three officers followed
in growing puzzlement as he led them on a zigzag route through the ever-darkening
streets.
    Jorge Serrano, the Red Leader, swung the wheel of his deliberately bland,
forgettable Japanese SUV hard into a U-turn. He had progressed half way to the
city centre as he and his partner scanned opposite sides of the road for anyone
on foot. But it was as if a curfew had been declared. The people of this region
had a nose for trouble, and the streets were all but deserted.
    He pulled over and turned to his partner,
a fair-haired body-builder from Barcelona. The big man preferred fighting to
thinking, but he was an old street-gang kid with reliable instincts to go with the
prison tattoos.
    “Hey, Martí, you want to think about
something for me? Suppose you were stranded down in the ensanche and
there were people out on the streets looking for you. What would you do?”
    Martí gave no outward sign of having heard
a word, but the leader knew better than to speak again. His junior partner
outgunned him on