Actually, Im in the UK. Right now Im sitting in a lay-by somewhere in Oxfordshire. Calling to ask if you could maybe do me a favour.
Interesting. You mean like cancelling all my prior engagements to make way for dinner tonight? My place, eight oclock?
Londons a little out of my way at the minute, Darcey. I mean more like running a vehicle registration check for me.
I knew it was too good to be true. What a complete and utter fuckhead you are.
For the first time since the crash, Ben was able to smile. You always were the queen of the sweet-talkers.
You do realise that asking a senior SOCA agent to run a registration check is like deploying the SAS to get a stuck kitten out of a tree?
How about as a friend, then?
Not to mention its illegal. Are you trying to get a girl into trouble?
I wouldnt dream of it.
Thats what Im afraid of. She paused. All right. But Ill make you pay dearly.
I wouldnt expect any less from you, he said. Ready to take down this number? Were looking at a blue BMW 740 saloon. He read out the registration from the insurance letter.
Copy that. Darcey read it back to him.
How fast can you turn it around for me, Darce?
I have some bad guys to go after first.
That shouldnt take you long.
Whats this about, anyway?
Dont worry about it.
Who else is going to worry about you, Hope? Give me an hour or so. Ill see what I can do.
Back at the vicarage, Ben slipped the camera memory card into Simeons laptop, clicked open the file and watched as thumbnail images of all eighty-seven of Petra Norringtons photographs filled the screen. He scanned quickly down until he came to the shots shed taken inside the restaurant. Most of them were useless to him, showing only the walls and decor as background but the very last image he examined had been taken at the right angle to give a clear view through into the bar area.
And there he was, the BMW owner, sitting alone on a stool with a soft drink in front of him.
Ben zoomed in to take a closer look. It was a good-quality image, sharp enough to make out the mans features in detail. He was in his thirties, dark-haired, with a long, lean face and a scar over one eye. Though it was hard to judge from the angle of the shot, he seemed to be sitting facing directly towards the table where Ben had been dining with the Arundels.
That in itself proved nothing, but scrutinising the guys features and the sharp expression in his eyes as he gazed fixedly at a point off-camera, Ben was certain that hed deliberately positioned himself to be able to watch Simeon and Michaela. Which strongly suggested hed also followed them to the Old Windmill.
Ben ran back through the chain of events. The stranger arrives in his BMW, plants himself in the bar and starts paying unusual attention to the threesome in the restaurant. Next, Petra Norrington leaves and gets in her car, reverses it into the front of the BMW, damaging a headlight. Theres a dispute that the stranger is very keen to play down. Shortly afterwards, he slips away, so that by the time the Arundels and their guest have paid for the meal and are setting off for home, the BMW has already gone. Minutes later, a large saloon car with a damaged headlight is seen racing away from the scene of the fatal crash.
Ben couldnt ignore his gut instinct: that the guy in the picture was the same man who had forced Simeon and Michaelas car off the road and caused their deaths. He might even have been one of the two whod broken inside the vicarage later that night. If not, he was their accomplice.
The real question was, who were they all working for?
Ben used the laser printer in Simeons study to run off a copy of the zoomed-in portion of the photo, which he folded and slipped into the inside pocket of his jacket. He tried Judes number one more time. Come on, answer the bloody thing, he muttered as it rang. No reply.
There was only one thing for it. He needed to get to Cornwall, and quickly. He scooped Michaelas Mazda keys from the little stand in the entrance hall, went outside into the cold and walked along the ornamental flagstone path around the side of the vicarage to the double garage. A plastic remote attached to the Mazda key fob activated the doors. They whirred open, revealing the sleek shape of the MX-5 Roadster.
Ben nodded to himself. It wasnt a Maserati but it would carry him the two hundred or so miles to the southwesternmost tip of England faster than Le Crock could ever dream of.
He went back inside and started gathering up his things. Simeons laptop was going to have to come along. Even if the information inside was inaccessible to him, there was no way he could leave it here at the house in case the raiders decided to come back for it. Deciding that the shotgun was coming too, he folded up the stock and stuffed the shortened weapon into his bag. The dog eyed him suspiciously from a few feet away.
I suppose you want to come along as well, Ben said. Where else are you going to go?
He was heading outside with the bag over his shoulder and the dog at his heels when his mobile rang. It was Darcey Kane.
How are your bad guys? Ben asked her.
Shitting in their pants, she replied. How are yours?
What makes you think Im after any?
Hmm. I have a feeling youre up to something.
I dont know where youd get a notion like that. Did you manage to trace that number for me?
Of course. But you wont be pleased. The registrations a fake. No record of it exists.
You double-checked?
Quadruple. You know me.
Damn, he muttered under his breath. But now he knew for sure.
Come on, Hope. Spill it. Youre definitely up to something, arent you?
Absolutely not, Ben said, leaning inside the car to stash his illegal cargo behind the drivers seat. It would be five years in prison, minimum, if any cop saw what was inside the bag.
Then youre free for dinner tonight. How about Italian instead? Itll be just like Rome.
Maybe some other time, Darcey. Thanks for the info.
Bastard.
Chapter Twenty-Two
According to Rex ONeills information, the Lear had touched down at the airfield in Naples forty-two minutes ago. The single-engined Cessna, one of the selection of light aircraft provided by the Trimble Group for them to shuttle men and material between Capri and the mainland, should be arriving shortly. Two cars sat parked at the side of the private airstrip, a Mercedes limousine and a high-performance Audi, both black. Penrose Lucas insisted on black for his whole fleet of vehicles, and the Trimble Group were happy to indulge him.
Inside the Mercedes, soundproof glass screened the driver off from the elongated passenger compartment in which sat Penrose and Rex ONeill. Penrose stretched out his legs. He didnt just sit on the plush limo seat, he lounged on it, sprawled across it. The more contact he made with the cool, soft leather, the more kingly and omnipotent it made him feel.
Hed been buzzing with nervous anticipation all morning since seeing the online news report confirming what hed known in advance was going to happen: the untimely and tragic demise of the Reverend Simeon Arundel and his beloved wife the previous evening in England. The news had almost completely allayed the extreme displeasure that had spoiled Penroses day yesterday, knowing that Wesley Holland had somehow managed to slip through the fingers of the team sent out to America to get him. Never mind. Hollands escape was a temporary hitch. It wasnt the end of the world.
And at this moment Penrose was in an even more forgiving mood as he anticipated with relish the arrival of his team from England. He couldnt wait to see the items retrieved from the targets home.
First Lalique; Penrose was especially pleased with the way that had gone. Then Arundel. All in all, the plan was moving along beautifully. Before long theyd have Holland too, and all three of them would be out of the way. Penrose would finally get his hands on this damned troublesome sword and would have the pleasure of personally seeing it melted down, eradicated before the world even took notice of it. Then hed be able to forge ahead with his greater plans. The Trimble Group would not be disappointed.
Rex ONeill was perched on the edge of the seat opposite, silent and tight-lipped as he observed his nominal boss and ruminated over his unspoken misgivings about the man. ONeill had been opposed from the start to the way the Lalique situation had been handled, and he was increasingly unhappy about the direction things were taking. Lucas was moving far too fast. ONeill could say nothing. He had his orders, and his job to do.
There were other worries, too. As part of ONeills role as intermediary between Lucas and the Trimble Group, it had been reported to him that morning that the phone surveillance team had intercepted a long distance phone call from Wesley Holland to the landline at the Little Denton vicarage during the early hours. Somebody had answered the phone there, meaning that the vicarage had not, as theyd previously thought, been empty last night. Somebody was staying there but who?
And how is Megan? Penrose asked suddenly, with an unpleasant little smile. It was unusual for him to make any kind of small talk, and even more unusual for him to express interest in his assistants home life. ONeill put it down to his uncharacteristically happy state of mind this morning.
And how is Megan? Penrose asked suddenly, with an unpleasant little smile. It was unusual for him to make any kind of small talk, and even more unusual for him to express interest in his assistants home life. ONeill put it down to his uncharacteristically happy state of mind this morning.
Shes fine, thank you. A little nervous as the weeks go by. Its our first, so ONeill shrugged.
Penrose felt slightly disgusted, but covered it well. When is the child due?
Not for another three and a half months.
You must be looking forward to it, Penrose said.
We both are, very much. ONeill smiled, visualising his wifes face and wondering what she was doing right now. He so wished he could be with her at home in London. It was still hard to believe that such a beautiful and smart young woman could have seen anything in a man like him, fifteen years her senior and obsessively glued to a job he could tell her so little about. The eleven months of their marriage had been the happiest of his life. He was determined to spend more time with her, but knew that his long-overdue leave wouldnt be granted him for a good while yet.