I was in Leeds before ten, navigating my way through the subterranean tunnels of the inner ring road, emerging into daylight somewhere near the white monolith of the university. The roads were quiet out through Headingley, but every now and again, a beam of light split the night from on high as the police helicopter quartered the skies, trying to protect the homes of the more prosperous residents from the attentions of the burglars. Burglary has reached epidemic proportions in Leeds these days; I know someone whose house was turned over seven times in six months. Every time they came home with a new stereo, so did the burglars. Now their house is more secure than Armley jail and their insurance premiums are nearly as much as the mortgage.
I slowed as I approached the Weetwood roundabout, scanning houses for their numbers. Six seventy-nine A looked like it might be one of an arcade of shops, so I parked and stretched my legs. I cant say I was surprised to find there was no 679A. There was a 679, though, a small newsagents squeezed between a bakery and a hairdresser. I walked round the back of the shops, checking to see if the flats above had entrances at the rear. A couple did, but 679 wasnt one of them. I walked back to the car, with plenty to think about. Whoever Denniss fence was, he was determined to cover his tracks. Using an accommodation address for his phone bills was about as careful as you could get without actually being sectioned for paranoia.
I decided to check out the directors addresses while I was in the city, but I held out little hope of finding any of them at home. James Connerys alleged residence was nearest, back in Headingley proper. It was number thirty-nine in a street of ten houses. On to Chapel Allerton, where Sean Bond apparently lived in a hostel for the visually handicapped. Penny Cash was even worse off. According to Companies House, she was living on a piece of waste ground in Burmantofts. I doubled back through the city center, passing the new Health Ministry building up on Quarry Hill, spotlit to look like a set from Fritz Langs Metropolis. Apparently, the place contains a full-sized swimming pool, Jacuzzi and multigym. Nice to know our hard-earned taxes are being spent on the health of the nation, isnt it?
It was nearly midnight when I got home. Richards car was parked outside, though I didnt need that clue to know he was home as soon as I touched the front door. It was vibrating with the pulse of the bass coming through the bricks from next door. As I shoved my key in the lock, I could feel exhaustion flow through me, settling in a painful knot at the base of my skull.
I walked through the house to the conservatory. Richards patio doors were open, revealing half a dozen bodies in varying states of consciousness draped over the furniture. Techno dance music drilled through my head like a tribe of termites who have just discovered a log cabin. The man himself was nowhere to be seen. I picked a path to the kitchen, where I found him taking a tray of spring rolls out of the oven. Hi, he said. His eyes were as stoned as the woman taken in adultery.
Any chance of the volume coming down? I need some sleep, I said.
Thats cool, he said, a lazy smile spreading across his face. Want some company?
Youve already got some.
They can be out of here in ten minutes, he said. Then Im all yours.
He was as good as his word. Eleven minutes later, he crawled into my blissfully silent bed. Unfortunately, Im not into necrophilia.
12
THE BUCKLE GOT TO THE OFFICE BEFORE I DID, WHICH GAVE Shelley something to puzzle over. I arrived to find her using it as a paperweight. Okay, she said. I give in.
I dont often find myself one up on Shelley, so I decided to drag it out a bit. If you can guess, Ill buy lunch, I said.
What makes you think youre going to have time for lunch? she asked sweetly. Besides, I told you yesterday, I dont do imagination. You want me to learn how, youre going to have to pay me a lot more.
I should know better. The woman is the mother of two teenagers. What chance do I have? Its a replica of an Anglo-Saxon ceremonial belt buckle, I said. Also known as a honey pot. Mustering what was left of my dignity, I scooped up the buckle and marched through to my office.
This time Denniss mobile was switched on. I want you to set up a meet for me with your man, I said. Tell him youll vouch for me, and that Ive got something really special for him.
Im not sure if hell go for it, Dennis tried. Like I told you, we have to wait for a yes or a no before we lift stuff. Hes very picky, and he likes to be in control.
Tell him theres only two in the world. Ive got one and the British Museums got the other one. Tell him its from the collection at High Hammer-ton Hall. And its gold. He should be able to work it out himself from that. Believe me, Dennis, hell want this.
All right, he said grudgingly. But Im coming with you on the meet.
No youre not, I told him firmly. Youre in enough trouble as it is. This is not going to be heavy, Dennis. I can handle one man in a car park. You should know, you train me.
I still think youre crazy, chasing this, he said. Your clients going to be better off with the insurance companys readies in his bank account than he is with a poxy picture on the wall.
Call it professional pride.
Call it pigheadedness, he said. Ill get back to you.
I went through to Bills office and opened the cupboard where we keep our stock of technological wizardry. I found what I was looking for in a cardboard box at the back of the top shelf. Its not something we use very often, reeking as it does of The Man from U.N.C.L.E., but given that Denniss fence seemed to be an aficionado of James Bond, it seemed entirely appropriate to use a directional bug. If that conjures up images of chunky metal boxes stuck to the bottom of cars, forget it. Thanks to modern miniaturization technology, the bugs weve got are about the size of an indigestion tablet. The transmission batteries last about a week, and allow the bug to send a signal to a base unit. The range is about fifteen kilometers, provided large mountains dont get in the way, and the screen gives a readout of direction and distance. Perfect for tracking the buckle back to source, so long as that the fence was going to get rid of it sharpish.
Next stop Clive Abercrombie, with a brief detour via the terraced streets of Whalley Range to stuff Gizmos used tenners through his letter box. When I got to the shop, Clive was hovering behind a counter, ostentatiously leaving the waiting on to the lesser mortals he employs to be polite to the rich. When I walked in, he shot forward and had me through the door to the back of the shop so fast my feet didnt even leave tracks in the shag pile. Obviously, he doesnt want proles like me hanging around making the place look like Ratners. In a hurry, Clive? I asked innocently.
I thought you would be. You usually are, he replied acidly. Now, what was it you wanted?
I took the buckle out of my handbag. In spite of himself, Clive drew his breath in sharply. Where did you get that? he demanded, extending one finger to point dramatically at the twinkling gold lump.
Dont worry, my life of crime runs to solving it, not committing it, I soothed. Its not the real thing. Its a copy.
If anything, he looked even more disturbed. Why are you walking around with it in your handbagl he demanded, giving Lady Bracknell a run for her money.
Knowing Clives weakness for anything reeking of snobbery, I said, Im doing a job for the Nottingham Group.
Should I know the name? he asked snottily.
Probably not, Clive. Its a consortium of the landed gentry, headed by Lord Ballantrae of Dumdivie. Art thefts. Very hush-hush. Im very close to Mr. Big, and this is a ploy to smoke him out. I pulled the bug out of my pocket. What I need is for one of your craftsmen to incorporate this in the piece. Preferably on the outside. Id thought under one of the stones. I handed the bug and the buckle to Clive, who already had his loupe out.
He took a few minutes to scrutinize the buckle, heavy enough to make a useful weapon, especially if it was attached to a belt. Nice piece of work, he commented. If you hadnt told me it was a fake, Id have had my work cut out to spot it. Praise indeed, coming from Clive. He unscrewed the loupe from his eye socket and said, Itll take a few hours. And it will cost.
Now, theres a surprise, I said. Just send us an invoice. Give me a bell when its ready. I turned to go back through the shop, but Clive gripped my elbow and steered me farther into the nether regions.
Easier if you pop out the back door, he said. Half a minute later, I was in the street. I reckoned I deserved a cappuccino made by someone other than me, so I decided to take the scenic route back to the office. For a brief moment, I toyed with the idea of ringing Michael Haroun and suggesting he play truant for half an hour, but I told myself severely that it wouldnt help my pursuit of the art thieves to involve the insurers at this stage. Theyd only start muttering about doing things by the book and informing the police. I smacked my hormones firmly on the wrist and drove the length of Deans-gate to the Atlas Cafe, where they claim to make the best coffee outside Italy. I wasnt going to argue. I dumped the car on a yellow line down by the canal basin and walked back up to the chic glass-and-wood interior. I sat by the window, sipping the kind of cappuccino that acts like intravenous caffeine and pulled the Kerrchem papers out of my bag. Time for a file review.
I didnt know exactly what I was looking for. All I knew was that I wanted to find something, anything that would legitimately allow me to postpone or short-circuit the tedious process of doing background checks into all of the redundant staff that I hadnt been able to eliminate on the phone. On the second read-through, I found exactly what I was looking for.
Joey Mortons supply of KerrSter came from the local branch of a national chain of trade wholesalers, Filbert Brown. His wife couldnt remember which of them had actually made the trip to the cash-and-carry when the fatal drum of KerrSter had been bought, but there was no doubt that that was the original source of the tainted cleanser.