Gillian walked out onto the stoop and into the winter sunshine. She thought she saw the flash of a lens or mirror in the distance, but decided that she was probably mistaken. Relieved and contented by her reception, she stepped down towards the two bodyguards who would accompany her to the lodge.

***

“Door is opening,” Pete said as he looked through the spotting scope. “You’ll need around three degrees of traverse and two degrees of elevation to keep her in your sights for around ten seconds.”

The tripod was firmly affixed, giving Dee the best possible chance for a steady shot. As Dee picked up the movement at the door and focussed the cross hairs, Pete whispered, “It’s her. It’s up to you now.”

Gillian Davis stepped into view, and Dee Hammond focussed until the Chameleon’s torso filled the viewfinder. Satisfied that this was their target, she fired off three quick shots.

Chapter 5 4

State Route 837, Lynchburg, Virginia, USA, Monday 3:15pm.

Dee and Pete gathered the equipment and stowed it into two elongated cases which had been custom made for the purpose. Pete slung a lap top bag over his shoulder and Dee slipped the scoping sight in her inside Jacket pocket.

Carrying the equipment, they worked their way up the lightly forested hillside and when they reached the peak they descended as quickly as they could down the other side and back to their hire car. The Chrysler 300 was parked in a lay-by, or refuge, furnished with picnic tables, litter bins and a basic toilet block.

They had just reached the car, opening the trunk by remote control, when two cars came roaring towards them, lights flashing, sirens blaring. They were approaching from either direction on State Road 837. By now the wooded hill was between them and the Denton Estate, which was approached by a secondary road off SR837, known locally as Top Ridge Road.

Dee and Pete acted normally, as if they had no idea what the police might want. They also hoped that the cars would keep on going. They didn’t. Just as they were placing the equipment in the boot of the car and closing the lid, a police cruiser pulled up behind their vehicle, soon followed by another marked car pulling up in front. They were hemmed in.

The two operatives glanced at each another and tried to look puzzled. In an instant there was a lot of activity and shouting, as state troopers with hats not dissimilar to those worn by Mounties disembarked from the vehicles and wielded their handguns.

“Stand against the car, facing in, hands flat on the roof, legs apart.” The instructions were yelled and forceful. The two British operatives did as they were told, and two troopers dressed in blue grey shirts, dark grey tie and epaulettes moved towards them. The bright gold woven badges on their shoulders bore the Great Seal of the State of Virginia in a circle at the top and the words ‘Virginia State Police’ below.

Dee and Pete said nothing. Their training had drummed into them the dictum, ‘if apprehended give them nothing, not even an accent, or they may start to reach premature conclusions about your guilt or innocence’. The two were frisked quickly and efficiently.

“OK. Sir. Hand me the keys slowly,” the female trooper requested. She was a good head shorter than Pete. She was a good looking African American and she had a gun aimed right at him. Pete held out the keys, letting them dangle from his thumb and forefinger.

Leaving her colleague to cover the suspects, the female officer holstered her gun and pressed a button on the key fob. The Chrysler 300 trunk lid opened to reveal two cases, a laptop bag and spotting scope.

The female trooper opened the cases very carefully and took a deep breath in.

***

In the case in front of her were two tripods, each with a bracket designed to hold something circular in section. There was also a selection of blue cables and an eyepiece.

In the second case was a long lens. Over a metre long, it had a five inch lens at the front but no camera mount or lens at the back. The trooper looked puzzled and then worried.

The cause of her concern was a silver plate on the inside of the case, which shone brightly against the red velvet interior of the case. It read: ‘Asset Number FBI/Q/S9/123109, Property of the FBI.’

“Ethan, you need to see this,” the trooper said to her companion. The man stepped back slowly, keeping his eyes on the two suspects. Stealing a glance at the case, he issued an expletive.

“Hey, are you two FBI? Do you have any ID?”

Dee responded first in what she hoped sounded like a mid Atlantic accent.

“You need to call our contact at the FBI now, before this gets out of hand. My BlackBerry is in my pocket.”

“OK, honey,” the female trooper said calmly. “Just stay where you are while we sort this out.”

She took the BlackBerry from Dee’s jacket and asked her the number. Dee told her to scroll down to “Steve Post FBI” on the most recent calls list and press the green button. The trooper did as she was asked, and the phone rang out in one long tone at the other end. The trooper pressed the loudspeaker button and Pete and Dee heard the operator pick up.

“FBI Field Office, Charlotte speaking. How may I direct your call?”

The trooper looked at Dee, who spoke loudly. “Special Agent Steve Post, please,” she answered.

“Who shall I say is calling?”

“This is Dee Hammond and I’m with Virginia State Trooper.....”

“Marcia De Vere.” The trooper completed the sentence. A few seconds later Steve Post came on the line.

“Is that Dee or Marcia?” he asked.

“Both of us,” Dee replied.

“OK. What’s going on, Marcia? You’ve extracted me from an important Homeland Security meeting.”

“Sir, we had it reported that a couple of folks were spotted in the woods overlooking a Senator’s house. The citizen was concerned about their intentions.”

“OK. Dee, what were your intentions?” he asked.

“We were bird watching, Special Agent Post. We have some magnificent shots of a Boboling, an American Goldfinch and a Ruby Throated Humming Bird.”

Pete had to stifle a laugh, and the two troopers looked terribly confused.

“OK, Dee, I trust you have evidence of your innocent intentions?” Steve queried, the smile audible in his voice.

“Yep. We have the shots on the laptop.”

“OK. Trooper De Vere, I suggest that you confirm that this is true and then let my people go. They’re very busy.”

“Sir, I have to call this in.”

“Of course you do. You need to call in and explain that you apprehended two innocent citizens bird watching, that you breached their constitutional rights and that you found incriminating pictures of Virginia’s wild birds. Oh, and tell them they can confirm all of this by ringing my number.”

Marcia De Vere looked at her partner, who was shaking his head vigorously. He didn’t want to be the butt of every office joke until the end of the year.

“I don’t think we need to hold these folks up any longer, sir.”

“Thanks, Marcia, I can assure you that I will be having words with them on their return.”

Marcia smiled as he hung up. Five minutes later, Pete was driving the car north on SR837.

“I could have done an American accent as well, you know,” he insisted, and he proceeded to affect a Yankee drawl which merely accentuated his Geordie brogue.

“How y’all doing, hinny?” he said before laughing, as much from relief as from the humour of his remark.

“By the way,” he continued, “if they’d looked at the hard drive of the laptop they would have seen the pictures of the Denton house and Gillian Davis.”

“No, they wouldn’t,” Dee assured him. “Those pictures are on here.” She held up an SD card. “They would have seen a variety of Virginian bird pictures lifted from Webshots.com.”

“You are too bloody clever for your own good, Mrs Hammond,” Pete commented wryly. They both laughed this time.