Hot Pursuit (19 page)

‘All right, all right,’ Coleman snapped peevishly. ‘It won’t be long now, though.’

‘You said that about the pick-up in the park.’

‘You are such a bloody cynic, Dorothy.’

‘I like to think of myself as one of life’s realists,’ said Dorothy Crow, darkly. ‘Besides, the guys upstairs in the big offices are getting very annoyed about the way this thing is going down–’

‘That’s just what we bloody need. Tell them if they think they can do any better to get their arses down here,’ he grumbled. ‘Anything has got to be better than the space cadets they’ve sent me. You
know these kids use sign language to talk to each other? They can’t carry out a decent surveillance but they can draw a very nice cartoon dog – and then they do all this bloody stuff with their hands. I’m getting fed up with it; they’re taking the piss.’

‘You’re just getting to be a grumpy, paranoid old fart, Danny,’ said Ms Crow.

Coleman laughed and then hung up. She might well be right. As he moved he felt the shoulder holster he was wearing slide, warm and shiny, over his shirt. The day was way too hot for a coat. He sniffed; with a bit of luck it would soon be over and done with and they could all go home. All except for Nick Lucas, that was.

Maggie could see the blue light flashing in her rear-view mirror and pulled off the road to let the police car pass. She was completely taken aback when instead of hurtling by her, sirens blaring, it pulled up in front of her car and, lights still flashing, a policeman got out and made his way back towards her side of the car.

She looked across at Nick. ‘I wasn’t speeding or anything,’ she spluttered nervously.

He shrugged, looking as bemused as she did.

Maggie opened the window as the policeman approached.

‘Good morning, Madam.’

‘Hello, Officer – can I help you?’ she said, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice.

The man nodded towards Nick. ‘Actually, Madam, I have been instructed to ask your passenger to accompany me to Minehead police station. You are Mr Bernard Fielding, aren’t you?’

‘You’re not arresting him, are you?’ she hissed.

The policeman shook his head. ‘No, my goodness me, no, not at all, Ma’am.’

Maggie beaded him. ‘But we were already on our way to the police station – he phoned in –’ and then turning towards Nick continued, ‘Tell him, you did, didn’t you?’

‘In that case. Madam, I’ll be saving you the trip, won’t I?’ The man smiled pleasantly, although Maggie couldn’t quite shake the sensation that any headway she hoped to make was being blocked by a polite but unmoving weight.

‘Mr Fielding?’ It was an invitation for Nick to join him.

Maggie peered up into the man’s face to see if there was any trace of subterfuge, any hint of a lie or a trick or a plot. There was nothing there but firm, good-mannered, impassive features that met her gaze with no hesitation whatsoever.

Nick sighed, ‘Okay,’ and unfastening his seat-belt made as if to get out of the car. ‘Maybe it would be a better idea for me to go with him anyway.’

‘Hang on a minute,’ said Maggie, catching hold of Nick’s arm. ‘What about me?’

The policeman shrugged. ‘My orders are to ask
Mr Fielding to accompany me to the station, Madam.’

‘Is that all you can say?’ protested Maggie.

‘I was instructed to suggest that you ring the police station later, Madam.’

Maggie squared her shoulders. ‘Later?’ she began. ‘But why?’

‘Sshh, don’t fight it,’ Nick said, and leaning over kissed her gently. ‘It will be all right.’

‘No –’ she hissed, resisting the temptation to be pacified by him. ‘No, it won’t be all right. I don’t want it to end like this, Nick. Is this the end? I mean is this good bye – where you ride off into the sunset?’ She swallowed back a great prickle of tears.

Nick pulled her mobile out of his jacket pocket and handed it back to her. ‘No, it isn’t – and it will be fine. I know your number. I’ll be in touch as soon as I can, I promise, but you have to let go now. It will be safer for both of us this way.’

‘But what about all your things? At the beach hut and back at the cottage?’

He smiled. ‘I’m sure somebody will come and pick them up.’

Maggie felt her eyes filling up with tears, that wasn’t what she meant at all. She wanted them to represent a connection: that he would be back to collect them; that he would want to come back.

‘But you can’t go like this, Nick. It’s not fair –’ It sounded petulant and childish but Maggie was
past caring. His fingertips pulled through hers as he climbed out of the car and walked away with the policeman. As he got into the back of the other car Nick turned and smiled.

Maggie shivered; it felt like something had been ripped away from her leaving a great, gaping hole in its place, but what could she do other than watch in stunned silence as the panda car pulled slowly away from the kerb.

‘Bugger,’ she snorted, banging her clenched fist on the steering wheel as the police car moved off. ‘Bugger, bugger, bugger. How could he just leave me like that? It’s not bloody fair. The bastard – bastard –’ Great, hot, wet tears of frustration rolled down her face.

Now what was she supposed to do? Go home to West Brayfield and get on with her life? Pretend that none of this had ever happened? Just as Maggie was getting really angry something caught her eye in the rear-view mirror. A car was coming up behind hers. Some survival instinct made her drop down low in the seat, instinct and the fact that she recognised the silhouette of Bernie Fielding picked out against the back window.

Maggie lay very, very still across the seat as the car slowed down to a crawl as it passed her, and then sighed with relief as she heard it accelerate away. Maggie hadn’t been spotted but guessed that the two hit men were following the police car into town – the last time she had seen Bernie
was on his way to her beach hut. Was that where they had found him? She shivered – a little earlier and it would have been her and Nick they had found, instead.

Did the police have an idea about the danger Nick was in? Would Nick be all right? Where was Coleman, and had it been him who had betrayed Nick in Blenheim Gardens?

Maggie sat for a few minutes trying to calm her anxious mind while the assassins’ car drove out of sight, and then she turned the key in the ignition. Maggie had made up her mind. It didn’t matter what Nick thought she had promised; there was no way Maggie was going to leave him to deal with all this on his own. Checking her mirror she pulled out and headed into town.

As she drove it occurred to Maggie that someone had to have tipped the police off about her car. She couldn’t imagine that Nick had told them what she was driving. Which brought her suspicions squarely back to Coleman.

‘Can you still see them?’ asked Lesley. She had had no luck at all finding anything even vaguely suspicious-sounding on the car radio.

Robbie nodded, ‘Yes, they’re four cars ahead.’

Bernie and the thugs were heading back into town. Robbie was tucked in behind a delivery van and try as he might he couldn’t get past it.

‘Get the little map book out,’ he said. ‘There
is one in the glove compartment with town centres in it –’ He wasn’t holding his breath that she would be any help at all, but at least it would give Lesley something to do other than criticise his driving.

Lesley flicked through the pages and then peered round like an owl to find a road sign. ‘We’re heading down towards the police station,’ said Lesley, pushing the glasses back up onto her nose.

Robbie smiled indulgently. ‘Really? Are you sure you’ve got the right continent?’

The mobile in Nimrod’s pocket peeped, once, twice. Hastily he pulled it out and opened up the text message. ‘Hang fire,’ it read.

‘Stand down. That’s our call. We’re out of here,’ said Nimrod, pointing towards the next junction.

‘Home?’ said Cain expectantly. Nimrod couldn’t quite miss the relief in his voice. Behind them Bernie sighed.

Nimrod shook his head, ‘No, not yet, old son, just a little respite until we get fresh orders. We need to park up and keep an eye on what’s going on. Take a left up here.’ His instructions made Bernie groan – this time Nimrod suspected it was with despair.

‘I think we may have found out what spooked your man in Blenheim Gardens,’ said the tinny
voice in Coleman’s ear. ‘We’ve picked up the CCTV footage from the park, and it seems that we had two old friends taking a little stroll – a little constitutional – while you were waiting for your man to show up.’

‘Uh-uh,’ said Coleman. ‘Cut to the chase, who exactly are we talking about?’ He was sitting in the car a street or two away from the police station waiting for Nick to be brought in.

‘The names Nimrod Brewster and Cain Vale ring any bells?’

Coleman laughed without a trace of humour and pulled out the nasal spray that went everywhere with him. He squeezed and inhaled, relishing the cold wet chemical droplets as they delivered their hit, waiting for his nose to clear. ‘Well, now there’s a surprise, and how come no one spotted the pair of them before? What are bloody security doing at the airports? No one thought to mention that those clowns were in the country until now?’

‘Apparently not, Sir.’

‘Okay, well no point dwelling on it; get photos out to everyone and keep an eye out for them. Oh, and do make sure that the whole team knows who they are and what they’re up to – and be careful. Those guys play for keeps.’

‘Just one more thing, Sir; it looks like they’ve got company.’

‘Company? Who?’ asked Coleman. He had
never known Nimrod or Cain to carry a spare before.

‘We’re not sure at the moment, Sir, but don’t worry – we’re on the case.’

‘Okay,’ said Coleman grimly, but then before he could say anything else the line went dead. Bloody technology. Coleman looked at his mobile phone – at least they hadn’t used sign language. What was next; morse? He wondered whether to ring Dorothy but then what was the point? There was nothing she could do about Messrs Brewster and Vale, and without the CCTV footage she would be none the wiser about who the third man was.

Coleman wondered what it was
exactly
that had made Nick run in the park, some uncanny sixth sense that had told him when he saw Nimrod and Cain that these men meant trouble. Or was it Maggie Morgan who had pulled him out? If Coleman were a betting man his money would have been on Maggie.

As Robbie Hughes was about to pull out to overtake the delivery van his mobile phone rang; plugged into the hands-free frame it played the theme from Dambusters very loudly. Robbie jumped in surprise and missed his moment, nearly hitting a red Datsun as he swung back in.

‘Who the hell is that?’ he snorted furiously, stabbing at the handset with one pudgy finger.

Lesley was already leaning across and in front of him and plucked the phone out of the frame before he had time to stop her.

‘It’s the studio,’ she said, peering at the caller display window. ‘Upstairs.’

‘Oh for God’s sake,’ growled Robbie. ‘That woman certainly knows how to pick her bloody moments.’

‘Do you want me to answer it?’ asked Lesley helpfully.

‘No, no, give me it here. Madam won’t take kindly to being fobbed off with a minion,’ said Robbie, and then, pressing the button to open the line said, in a warm and cheery tone, ‘Hi, and how are you this morning?’

‘Don’t give me all that crap, Robbie, where the fuck are you?’ she shouted.

Robbie sniffed; maybe letting Lesley answer the phone would have been a better idea after all. ‘I’m out on a story at the moment,’ he began, but Madam had other ideas.

‘Really? I suppose it slipped your mind that we had an editorial meeting at ten, Robbie – remember? And then you were supposed to be out with Crew Two on that market trader’s story. It’s taken weeks for us to set things up with that dodgy video guy.’

‘Right,’ said Robbie, treading water, ‘well – the thing is, I –’

‘The thing is, Robbie, you’re an arrogant stuck-up
little arsehole who –’ He held the phone away from his ear to avoid the tirade of abuse. It didn’t sound as if his boss actually drew in a single breath, which was quite some trick. After a few minutes the volume settled to an angry rumble and then she said, her voice still tight with anger, ‘Is Lesley there with you?’

‘She is.’

‘In that case put her on; I might get some sense out of her.’

The line into Coleman’s ear crackled again. ‘Yes?’ he snapped irritably. No matter how well-fitting the earpiece it always gave him a headache.

‘We’re still no wiser who the guy with Nimrod and Cain is, Sir, but HQ thought you might like to know that he was picked up on security cameras going into the Colmore Road offices early last week – and guess where he ended up?’

Coleman was in no mood for games. ‘Go on. Surprise me,’ he said.

‘One of the offices with a direct access terminal to Stiltskin.’

Coleman felt his stomach tighten; so there was their link. ‘Well, well, well – there we are, then,’ he said dryly. ‘Now all you have to work out is who the hell he is and who he’s working for and what he’s up to and we’re home and dry.’

As he spoke he saw the police car bearing Nick Lucas turn the corner and pull into the car park.

‘Yes, Sir, but the thing is –’ said the disembodied voice.

‘Not now,’ snapped Coleman, ‘I’ve got another problem to solve.’ He screwed up his face and turned the key in the ignition, wondering which was the best way to play this. Act now or wait until all the other players were in place? The sounds in his earpiece crackled and died.

In Robbie’s car the mobile phone rang again.

‘Oh bloody, hell, now what?’ snapped Robbie, throwing a furious glance at Lesley. ‘Answer it, will you?’ And then after a few seconds, once Lesley had worked her way through the social pleasantries, Robbie said, ‘Come on, then, what does the old bag want now?’

Lesley blanched and put her hand over the phone. ‘Actually, Robbie, it’s your wife; she said she rang the studio to talk to you and they said that they had got no idea where you were.’

Robbie felt his heart shudder messily before it kick-started back into a regular rhythm. Bloody women; they’d be the death of him.