Peter Lovesey - The Summons

“I mean he didn’t do it for sexual gratification.”

“Does that excuse it?”

“I think you’re missing the point,” Farr-Jones said, indicating Mr. Tott with his eyes.

Diamond understood now. The remark had been intended to allay Tott’s worst fears, not to whitewash Mountjoy. He glanced across to see how his case summary was affecting the Assistant Chief Constable. Very little, apparently-if he was taking anything in at all. “No, I don’t think it was a sex thing. He lost his cool and went berserk, which is how the unfortunate Britt Strand met her death.”

“How did he behave under questioning?”

“Denied everything.”

“Did he lose control?”

“He raised Cain when I told him we’d traced his ex-wife and girlfriend. I saw the temper then. To be fair, he was approachable ninety-five percent of the time.”

“Would you say that you established some kind of rapport with Mountjoy?”

Diamond gave the Chief Constable a frown softened by a smile and made no reply.

Farr-Jones nodded. “All right, that was rather obvious. I’ll lay off. What time is it?”

Wigfull said, “Five past, sir.”

“Anyone care to place a bet?”

“I give him another five minutes,” said Diamond. “No more.”

Farr-Jones looked round at the others. “Why don’t we all sit down? My money’s on nine-thirty. He’ll make us suffer a little longer.”

“If he said nine, he’ll get in touch at nine,” insisted Diamond. “The delay won’t be his. It will be due to the way the message comes through.”

The phone on the desk rang.

“You do have a rapport with him,” said Farr-Jones as he picked it up. “Farr-Jones… Good. Put them through.” He covered the mouthpiece and said, “He’s resourceful. British Rail Passenger Inquiries this time.”

The others listened to the responses.

“Yes?… When was this?… Nine precisely?… If you would be so kind. Exactly as it was given.” He picked up a pen and started to write. After a moment, he said, “Thank you. I’ll read it back and I’d be obliged if you would check every word most carefully. ‘J.M. to Diamond. Take a taxi up to the Grenville Monument immediately and collect instructions. Alone. Carry no weapon, phone, radio or bug. If you trap me the girl will die slowly, so lay off.’ Is that correct?. .. And was the caller male or female?… a man?… Thank you. And-this is important-would you kindly destroy the message now and say nothing about this to the press or anyone else?” He cradled the phone and spread his hands.

“What’s the Grenville Monument?” Warrilow asked.

“Offhand, I can’t say,” Farr-Jones admitted.

Wigfull was afforded his chance to shine. “Isn’t it on Lansdown? You know, where the battle was fought in the Civil War? Grenville was one of the Royalist leaders. They put up a stone pillar where he fell.”

“Lansdown, you say?” Warrilow turned to a map on the wall.

“Yes, sir. It’s one of the highest points hereabouts, beyond the racecourse on the Lansdown Road.” Wigfull traced the road with his finger. “I walked the Cotswold Way once and passed close to it. See, the monument is marked. Just here, to the east of Hanging Hill.”

“Open ground?”

“I have a vague recollection of some trees or bushes not far away, but there isn’t much else up there. It still looks like a battlefield. On one side of the road you can see the ridges of earth they dug out for their defenses.”

“Still deep enough to give some cover?”

“Not where the monument is.”

“Ideally I’d use a helicopter for an operation like this,” Warrilow reflected, “but obviously we’ve got to be careful.”

Tott, becoming pink, said, “I’m not prepared to see my daughter’s life put at risk.”

“No question of that, Harry,” said Farr-Jones. “Samantha’s safety is paramount in our planning.”

“Which is why I’m recommending subtlety in our surveillance,” Warrilow added smoothly.

“Surveillance of what?” Diamond said.

“Your meeting with Mountjoy.”

“I haven’t agreed to meet him.”

“But surely-”

“Nothing is sure,” said Diamond. “Nothing is agreed. I’m a civilian. Remember?”

There was an uncomfortable silence.

Something had been troubling John Wigfull. Tentatively, he said, “There’s an inconsistency in the two messages from Mountjoy, isn’t there? Yesterday he asked us to have a car ready. Today we’re told to use a taxi.”

“And is there a car ready?” said Diamond.

“Of course. I told you.”

“Is it bugged-invisibly, of course-but bugged?”

“Yes.”

Diamond smiled. “You won’t need it. That was the decoy. Mountjoy is ahead in this game. He’s had years to plan it.”

Warrilow drew in a sibilant breath and folded his arms as if to convey that he, too, had seen through this transparent ruse. “You’ll have to carry something,” he told Diamond.

The moment had arrived for Diamond to lay out his cards. “If you want my cooperation, gentlemen, you can have it on my terms. My terms are Mountjoy’s, exactly. No bugs, no radios, weapons or”-his eyes locked with Warrilow’s- “surveillance. I go up to Lansdown alone to see what this is about. I’m your surveillance, right? If I come back alive, as I intend to, I’ll have plenty to tell you.”

“Come on, man, you were in the police,” said Warrilow abrasively. “We’re a professional force, not the Boy Scouts. Mountjoy is an escaped convict, a lifer with a record of violence. Our job is to recapture him. We can’t let this opportunity pass.”

“And if you do pick him up, what happens to Mr. Tott’s daughter?”

“He’ll tell us where she is.”

“That’s your assessment, is it?”

“He’s no idiot. He’s an educated man. He’ll know when the game is up.”

Diamond glanced at the others, practically inviting them to support Warrilow’s line of reasoning. They were silent. Speaking in a flat tone that let the story supply its own force, he said, “There was a stickup artist a few years back who did post offices in the Midlands and murdered three sub-postmasters. They called him the Black Panther because of the hood he wore. Remember?”

Warrilow gave a grudging nod. The case had been notorious and was frequently quoted on training courses, but no one was going to stop Diamond from pointing out its relevance.

“He got more ambitious. Kidnapped a teen-age girl from a well-off family in Kidderminster and demanded a ransom of fifty grand. Planned it like a military operation. Found an ingenious place to keep his victim. Sent his messages on strips of Dynotape. Early in the hunt, the police had a lucky break. A stolen car was found containing the girl’s slippers and a tape recording of her voice appealing to the family to cooperate. Forensic evidence provided a firm link with the Panther, so they knew they were dealing with a killer. They put terrific resources into the hunt. The girl was missing for about eight weeks. When they finally found her it was too late. She was hanging naked by a wire rope in an underground drainage tunnel. Ruddy sadist. They caught up with him by chance, nine months later, about to do another post office. The point is, why did that young girl die? The answer is that the guy was a killer already. What’s one more death? If the Panther had been nicked before the girl was found, do you believe he would have revealed where she was hidden?”

Warrilow said, “There’s no comparison.”

To which Diamond replied, “You’re right, of course.” Then added mildly, “I wonder where Mr. Tott’s daughter is being kept.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. Tott had lowered his head. It wasn’t possible to see his expression.