Red Hawk Rising

his shoulders and ambled off with the magazine. At the edge of the square, a man stood watching the whole incident but not with idle interest.
“If that was a ‘drop’, it was very well done,” he thought and decided to follow the unkempt male who was still carrying the magazine. The curious onlooker was a colleague of Hamilton’s from MI5.

CHAPTER 4
It was a fresh morning (Wednesday 21st Sept) and a touch of spring was in the air. Corporal Hill was boarding the diesel railcar from Grimsby to Sheffield. From there he would have to change trains to get to Manchester. Finally, a local train down to Hollinlane where he would check in to the JSTU section accommodated at RAF Handwell, a former MU (Maintenance Unit). The DMU (Diesel Multiple Unit) was clean and smelled fresh and fairly new. British Railways was in the process of phasing out its steam trains and replacing them with diesel. It was an open carriage with a small first-class section at the front, behind the driver’s cabin. The driver was in a smart green uniform that had not experienced the dust, smoke and steam of a locomotive footplate. He was an older driver, no doubt having been re-trained from steam locomotives. Andy noticed that the driver was developing a paunch, something you never saw on the crews of the steam loco’s. It was a two-car unit with a baggage section in the second car. Andy made his way to the rear of the first car and took a rear seat next to the connecting door. From there, he couldn’t be surprised from behind and he had a view of the whole car in front. He would also see what people were waiting to board the train as it pulled into a station. A person taking such precautions indicated the nature of his past and of his training. The other passengers appeared to be everyday folk. A couple of businessmen and a well-dressed lady went into the first-class section. Some passengers were clearly country folk and would most likely be getting off at stations between Grimsby and Gainsborough. The porter closed the doors, the guard blew his whistle and the train moved smoothly forward. The ride was comparatively smooth compared to the old steam trains. None of the jolting that one associated with the steam trains picking up speed or slowing down suddenly. No cinders or smoke coming in through open windows. He relaxed and opened the newspaper that he’d bought. At each stop, Andy would watch the passenger movements but there appeared to be no cause for concern. At Gainsborough there was a major change of passengers. The majority disembarked and a fresh group boarded. One man that boarded seemed to scrutinise Andy closely as he looked for a seat. He had an angular face with a sharp nose. His hairstyle looked decidedly military and the way he bore himself suggested army, even though he was in civilian clothes. Andy was, of course, in uniform since he was on duty. It may have been his uniform that attracted the man’s attention. He moved towards Andy but sat about three rows forward. The man obviously wasn’t a commissioned officer otherwise he would have been travelling first class. Andy put down his paper and watched the passing countryside. He thought back and wondered if he had seen that military-style man before but couldn’t place him. The train motored on — Retford, Worksop and finally Sheffield Midland Station. The railcar pulled into a terminating platform and the cry went up from a porter, “All change!” He pulled his bag off the rack and headed for the indicator board. The military man was ahead of him and gave Andy a backward look as he headed for the ticket barrier. Andy became cautious. He wondered whether he was being tailed. The indicator board gave a platform number for the Manchester train and he headed over the bridge towards it. There would be about twenty minutes before the train was due in. It was a train coming through from York. Getting trains cross-country in England was a tedious business. All the main lines were north-south.
Andy headed for the buffet room and bought a coffee. It tasted a bit of chicory — more like war-time, he thought. He bought a sandwich to go with it. The woman who served him looked bored with her life. Clearly it was a job to her and no more. At least, for once, the cup was clean. He moved over to a corner of the room away from the door and sat at a table that had seen a few customers since it had been cleaned. Andy ate his sandwich and drank his coffee quickly, then moved out onto the platform to wait for the train. He didn’t have a seat reservation so he would have to take his chances. Most passengers would be around the middle of the platform so he headed down the platform towards what would be the front of the train. Andy found a spot and looked back up the platform and began to look over the other people waiting for the train. Again, no-one stood out but then a good tail wouldn’t.
The train steamed into the station, pulled by an old Gresley Pacific A3. It would be a shame to see the last of these fine engines. It hissed steam as the brakes were applied and it came to a halt. Andy noticed that the carriages were corridor and compartment types. After passengers disembarked, he climbed on board the second coach, the front one being first class. The second compartment was empty and the luggage racks clear so he sat himself down by the window in the rearward-facing seat. A middle-aged couple opened the compartment door and asked if the other seats were taken. He shook his head and they took the seats by the door. The woman got knitting out of her