R. Wingfield - Hard Frost

"You know how I hate paper work, Arthur. You can have all the credit and be Mr. Mullett's blue-eyed boy." He jabbed a finger at the prisoner. "OK, Duggie cough!"

PC Collier, wearing plain clothes, drove slowly to the end of the road where he parked silently and switched off the lights. Rain was bucketing down and visibility was limited, but the floodlit drive to Sir Richard Cordwell's front door made it easy to keep tabs on what was going on. As soon as Cordwell drove out, he would radio to let Frost know, then, at a discreet distance, follow.

In the crowded shopping mall leading to the Savalot supermarket, Burton jostled his way to a wooden bench that gave him an unrestricted view of the clump of four public telephone boxes. Syrupy music oozed from overhead speakers, interrupted from time to time by a chirpy voice advising shoppers of the latest bargains to be had in the store. The four kiosks all had "Out Of Order' notices on their doors and the phones had been fixed so no outgoing calls could be made. This had been done by Cordwell's security officers to ensure the phones were not being used by the public when the kidnapper tried to make contact.

Burton eased the radio from the inside pocket of his jacket and made a call to the incident room to test that the scrambler was working as it should.

"I can hear you, and that bloody music, loud and clear," Frost told him. He checked his watch. Coming up to a quarter to eight. Cordwell should be leaving the house any second.

"Can I have a word, inspector?"

Hopalong flaming Cassidy! And the edge to his voice meant he was going to have a moan about something. "What is it, my son?"

"I'm not your son, I'm an inspector, if you don't mind," corrected Cassidy. "Could we go outside?"

"Call me if anything happens," said Frost to Lambert as he followed Cassidy out to the corridor. "So how can I help you, inspector?" He kept his eye on the door, ready to dash back any minute.

"You can help me by letting me handle my own cases," snapped Cassidy. "Lemmy Hoxton. Am I handling it or not!".

Oh shit! thought Frost. He's found out about Duggie Cooper, and I never told him about Mullett's mate, Mrs. Roberts. "Do you mean Cooper?"

"Yes, I damn well do. Not only have you questioned him without bringing me in on it, you've let that fat sergeant take all the credit for clearing up the robberies."

"Sorry, son," said Frost, 'but I knew you wouldn't want to take the credit for things you weren't entitled to." Cassidy's eyes flickered at the shaft. "Anyway, it's your case from now on." Cassidy still wasn't satisfied and was ready with the next moan, but Frost was spared this by the door opening. "Radio message, inspector," called Lambert.

He dashed back inside. PC Collier was on the radio reporting that Cordwell had left the house.

"Which car was he in?" asked Frost, hoping it wasn't the inconspicuous pearl grey Rolls-Royce with the peronalized number plate. They'd have half of Fleet Street following if it was.

"It's a dark green Nissan," reported Collier. He gave the registration number. "Shall I follow?"

"Yes, but keep well back. We know he's coming to the store, so you needn't hug his tail. Once he's in the store, park in a side street off the Market Square. We'll contact you when he comes out." He radioed through to Burton to let him know Cordwell was on his way. "Should be with you in five minutes."

"Right," acknowledged Burton.

Frost was lighting up when Liz came in. "We've located the pub where Cooper says he and Lemmy went to. It's the Green Dragon. They serve pub lunches. The menu changes every day, but every Friday it's salmon fish cakes, and 6th August was a Friday."

"I used to like salmon fish cakes," said Frost, 'but not since I saw them swimming around inside Lemmy's stomach. Funny how little things like that can put you off." He spun his chair round as the radio speaker crackled, but it was only static. "Did you check out Custard Cottage?"

"Primrose Cottage. Two sisters, one around forty, the other in her mid-thirties. I haven't spoken to them yet, though."

"Good. We'll do it together tomorrow morning. Remind me." His smile died when he saw Bill Wells making his way over to him. The sergeant's face shouted "Trouble." Something had gone wrong.

"Were you going to get Tommy Dunn to plant that homing device, Jack?" Wells asked.

"Yes-why?"

"I wouldn't count on him doing it.",

"Why not?" asked Frost, very concerned.

"Tommy's got himself arrested."

Frost's stomach screwed into a tight ball. "Arrested?"

"PC Simms is bringing him in. He was caught nicking two bottles of whisky from Savalot's liquor store."

Frost stared at Wells, hoping and praying he had misheard. "Stealing?"

"Savalot want him charged. And they want his flat searched. They think he's been making a habit of taking their stock home and they'd like some of it back."

Frost stared at the ceiling and swore softly. "Bloody, bloody hell." He punched his palm with his fist and thought quickly. "All right change of plan. Tell all cars engaged in the exercise that due to circumstances beyond our bleeding control, we won't have the homing signal, so it's vital we don't lose track of Cordwell's car. Circulate the description and registration number to all mobiles. If they sight it, let me know. And tell all mobiles not in the exercise to stand by. We might have to call them in as well if we lose him." He groaned audibly as Mullett marched in. "Oh no!" The bleeding vultures were descending.

"What's this I'm hearing about Tommy Dunn, Frost?"

He obviously knew all about it, so Frost was terse.

"He's been arrested for theft. We won't have the homing device."

Mullett's eyes glinted and he smirked in self-justification. "I warned you about using rubbish like him, but you wouldn't listen and now you must pay the consequences. Can we still go ahead with this without alerting the kidnapper? If that child is harmed because of your incompetence '

"We can still do it. What I've done is '

Mullett's hand shot up. He didn't want the details. Hearing them could imply his seal of approval and this would only be forthcoming if everything went off without a hitch. "Just make sure nothing goes wrong."

He turned on his heel and marched to the door, spurred on his way with a V sign, behind his back, from Frost who then tapped his desk to get everyone's attention. "Just thought you'd like to know that Mr. Mullett is one hundred per cent behind us, providing we pull it off. But if we fail then God help us!" He drummed his fingers impatiently and looked pleadingly at the speaker, waiting for the next radio report.

"Subject car in car-park," radioed Collier. "Cordwell getting out and entering the mall by the side entrance."

A few minutes later Burton called in. "I have Cordwell in sight. He is waiting outside the four phone kiosks."

"Check the phone bugging devices again," called Frost. If they were going to go wrong, then now was the time.

The officer with the earphones did a quick check and gave the thumbs-up signal. "AH working perfectly."

"Right." Frost kept the radio channel to Burton open. They could hear the bustle of shoppers in the mall. The Musak had stopped, no doubt by Cordwell's orders so he could hear the phone ringing. The wall clock in the incident room clunked away another minute. The kidnapper was already five minutes late.

"I don't think he's going to phone," said Liz.

"Don't be a bloody pessimist," said Frost. "He's probably in the middle of a long wee-wee. You don't pick up ransom money with a full bladder." Still only crowd noises from the monitor speaker.

Burton's voice suddenly made everyone sit up. But it was only to report that nothing was happening.

"For Pete's flaming sake!" yelled Frost. He hated people reporting there was nothing to report.