R. Wingfield - Hard Frost

He pulled out the radio and brought the anxious Frost up to date. "He's made the drop."

A sigh. of relief from Frost. "Good boy. What's he doing now?"

The night glasses followed him. "He's going back to his car."

The sound of the Nissan's engine could just be heard over the drumming of the rain. "He's reversing. He's heading back to Denton."

Frost ducked his head as approaching headlights flared in the windscreen and Cordwell roared past them on his way back. He radioed Charlie Baker, the area car, to wait by Sandown Road and, as soon as Cordwell passed, to follow him at a discreet distance. "If he goes anywhere but straight home, I want to know." The kidnapper was such a wily bastard, all that had happened could have been a feint; the money could still be with Cordwell to be dumped elsewhere.

Looming ahead of them, creaking in the wind, was the large oak tree where Cordwell had parked. Frost slowed down, squinting through the windscreen for Burton's car. He spotted it just round the next bend and bumped up on the grass verge to park behind it. He and Cassidy climbed out and peered into rain and darkness. No sign of Burton. "Where are you, son?" Frost whispered into his radio. Burton blinked his torch a few times and they homed in on his signal.

It was an uncomfortable walk in the dark over bumpy and puddle-ridden ground fighting against the wind and the rain, and it was making Cassidy's stomach hurt like hell. Was this why Frost had asked him along to show up his damn weakness? If so, and he winced as a flame of pain rippled across his stomach, if so, Frost was going to be disappointed.

Burton was crouched behind the trunk of a stunted tree. Not much of a place to hide, but better than nothing. He pointed to a dark mass ahead and handed Frost the night glasses. "The money is behind there somewhere."

Frost shook off the rain and raised them to his eyes. "I can't see a bleeding thing."

Cassidy took the glasses. "Those bushes?" he exclaimed. "They're seventy yards away. Can't we get any closer?"

"It's all open ground," said Burton. "We'd be seen."

"So where's the money?"

"Round the back somewhere," Burton told him.

"Somewhere? Can't you be more precise?"

"I saw him go behind with the money and come back without it."

"So it could be any of those flaming bushes and we're on the wrong side seventy yards away."

Burton indicated the sprawling terrain. "There's nowhere on the other side to hide. We'd be seen miles away."

"What about those bushes there?" Cassidy pointed.

Frost gave them a glance, then shook his head. There was too much open ground between them. "This is as good a place as any."

The call light on the receiver flashed. Burton turned the volume down and listened. Charlie Baker reporting in. Cordwell had made one stop on the way back at a phone box. As he approached it, it rang. He spoke briefly, then drove straight home.

"The kidnapper wanting confirmation the drop had been made," said Frost. "He must have phoned from a call box. Where's the nearest one from here?"

"The one in Forest Row," said Burton.

"If that was the one he used, he should be here in less than ten minutes," said Frost to Burton. "Get back to your car and wait and be ready to tail him after he collects the money."

"He might not have used that one," objected Cassidy. "He might have a mobile phone. For all we know he could be standing in those trees over there, watching."

"If he had a mobile phone and was standing in those trees," said Frost, 'he'd have seen Cordwell drop the money and wouldn't have needed to make the phone call." He nodded Burton on his way.

Burton hurried off while Frost panned the area through the night glasses to see if he could spot anyone watching them. A radio call from Burton. He was back in his car awaiting further instructions.

Frost consulted his wrist-watch. Nine forty-six. His clothes were sodden and rain was beating down on them. Too wet to smoke and nothing to do but to wait.

They waited.

Cassidy wriggled and tried to make himself comfortable on the soaking wet grass. "How long do you think we'll have to wait?"

"Not too long," muttered Frost, scanning the far ground through the night glasses. "There's too much money just lying around. He won't want to risk anyone else finding it."

"Car coming," reported Burton over the radio.

They held their breath and waited. But it sped past. And so did the next.

A lull in the traffic and Frost went back to his surveillance of the bleak-looking area. It was tricky using the night glasses and he hadn't got the hang of them. Every now and then his view would be completely obscured as a large bush or tree trunk took up the entire field of vision. He swung back to the bushes where the money was hidden.

A clap of thunder and the heavens opened, rain drumming on the ground so they had to shout to hear each other. Cassidy wiped stinging rain from his eyes and brushed back dripping wet hair. "Bloody weather," he snarled.

"It's perfect," said Frost. "No-one but kidnappers and prats of policemen would be out in this. Whoever turns up has got to be our man." Again he raised the glasses and focused on some trees eighty yards or so away. Just before the downpour, he thought he had seen something move. The stair rods of rain were making it difficult to see anything and he was just convincing himself he was mistaken when… Yes, there it was. He nudged Cassidy. "I spy, with my little eye, something that looks like a motor."

"Where?" hissed Cassidy, straining his eyes into the blurred darkness.

Frost handed him the glasses and pointed. "Behind the trees."

Cassidy panned carefully. He located the trees and… yes. Frost was right. Half hidden… a car. He locked on to it, holding his breath and bracing himself to steady the night glasses. A Ford Escort. The glasses gave everything a green tinge, but it was a light colour

… cream, brown or grey, perhaps. "I see it. Its lights are out."

"Most of the cars that come down here turn their lights out," grunted Frost. "They only turn them on if the girl can't find her knickers afterwards. Can you see anyone inside?"

Cassidy stared hard, trying to penetrate the curtain of blurring rain. "No."

"Let me have a go." Frost took the glasses.

"Shall we pick him up?"

"No," said Frost. "Until he collects up the money, we've nothing on him… Hello.. He steadied the glasses and started to chuckle.

"What is it?" hissed Cassidy.

"You'd better see this."

Cassidy snatched the glasses, then he snorted with disgust. The car was bouncing up and down on its springs and the windows were well steamed up.

"Not our kidnapper, I'm afraid," said Frost ruefully. Then he remembered a poem he'd seen on a lavatory wall once and began to recite:

"You could tell he was a master, In the art of love. First the slight withdrawal Then the mighty shove."

Cassidy snorted his disgust. Hadn't Frost got any damn taste? They were trying to catch the killer of a child, for Pete's sake!

The car gave a sudden lurch. "Flaming heck," said Frost with admiration. "That was a mighty shove all right. I bet that brought the colour to her cheeks."

"Bloody animals!" snarled Cassidy.

But Frost was lost in recollection. "I used to come here and behave like a bloody animal… Long time ago of course…" It was when he was in his teens, young and lusty… Who was that dark girl… the little goer. What was her name…? And then he remembered. Flaming heck, how could he have forgotten! It was his wife. Long before they were married. She was a little doll in those days… bouncy, little figure, jet black hair, snub nose, and she thought the world of him… that showed how long ago it was! A time, before all the rows, when everything marvelous was going to happen. When they made plans about getting married, about him joining the police force and rising in the ranks to chief superintendent. It all came back… that night… that summer night when it was so hot you could have trampled through the grass in the nude at midnight and not feel cold. That was when it happened for the first time… when he undressed her and… Someone was shaking his arm. "Frost!"