Линда Ла Плант - Good Friday

‘Can you make it safe?’

‘No, but Dexter can and he’ll be at the hotel.’

Jane’s voice shook. ‘Oh, my God! Natalie said: “Tonight you’ll see what we’re capable of”… there could be a spare detonator for a bomb… Crowley and Dexter were using more than one when I watched them on the explosives range.’

‘Pull yourself together!’ Stanley almost lost his cool as he tried his radio again to contact Crowley.

‘DS Stanley to Crowley, are you receiving? Over.’ There was a hissing noise but no reply. ‘God damn this bloody cheap piece of shit!’ Stanley swore at the dead radio.

‘Use my phone.’

Stanley picked up the receiver, but Crowley’s number was continually engaged.

‘Come on, come on, Crowley… put the phone down!’ Stanley shouted becoming more and more impatient as he tried to redial with no success. He slammed the phone down.

‘We need to get to the hotel right now.’ He quickly ushered Jane ahead of him. ‘Go on! Get moving! We can’t wait for a patrol car.’

Jane moved as quickly as she could down the stairs, which was not easy in evening wear. Stanley stepped on the back of her dress, and Jane stopped dead as the frill around the bottom of her skirt came loose. She bent down to look at the damage.

‘Never mind your effing dress Jane… move it! Come on, hurry up!’

Holding the loose frill in her hand, Jane hurried out into the street. At first she thought Stanley was hailing a cab as he stepped into the middle of the road holding his warrant card. He raised his hand to stop an approaching old Ford Anglia, which braked sharply. The driver swore loudly and was even more shocked when Stanley suddenly opened the door and pulled him out.

‘DS Stanley, Met CID. I’m sorry, but I have to commandeer this vehicle for a police emergency… Get in, Tennison.’

The young driver was so shocked he didn’t say a word as Stanley clunked the car into first gear, put his foot down hard on the accelerator, and drove off at high speed.

Stanley weaved expertly through the traffic. When they reached Caxton Street he turned into the large concourse in front of the hotel. The car park was already quite full, and a uniformed PC was directing the new arrivals into empty spaces. Outside the hotel a queue of officers and their guests in evening suits and dresses waited to have their names and warrant cards checked by uniformed officers who were standing at the top of the entrance stairs. Stanley pulled up in the concourse and jumped out of the vehicle. Jane followed more slowly, hampered by her dress. As she got out of the car, torn frill in one hand and warrant card in the other, a voice called out:

‘Tell him to come back and park that car properly!’

She looked up to see the uniformed PC directing a driver to reverse into a parking space beside a blue Triumph Herald. Suddenly she experienced a nightmare flash of recognition. It replayed rapidly before her eyes: the moment she had run after the bomber at Covent Garden, how she had called out to him, reached for the sleeve of his coat, how he had half turned towards her and shoved her roughly away. She was in complete shock and couldn’t call out or move. She was frozen.

‘Jane… Jane !’

Dexter had grabbed her by the shoulders and was shaking her. She heard his voice as if waking from a nightmare.

‘You look fabulous! Let’s ask Stanley to set up the champagne.’ He took her by the elbow to escort her into the hotel, but she was stuck to the spot.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked, concerned.

Jane turned away from the uniformed PC and slowly nodded her head. She tried to speak but there was no sound.

Dexter had been told that they had arrested Natalie Wilde inside Jane’s flat and found a detonator. Assuming she was suffering from delayed shock, he put his arms around her.

‘Everything is going to be all right, I’ve taken the battery out of the detonator, so it’s disarmed. And the whole place was swept for explosives this afternoon. Come on, let me take you inside and get you something to drink…’

Jane leant against him and took more deep breaths as he tried to move her, but she held on to him tightly.

‘The bomber… Covent Garden… I recognise him. He’s here. Don’t turn around… he’s the uniformed PC directing cars into the parking bays.’

Dexter tensed, then moved closer to her as if embracing her. His lips were close to her ear as he turned a fraction. He could now get a better view of the officer, who was assisting a driver to park at the far end of the bays, in almost the last space left.

Dexter gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Because Natalie was aware of the big do, Crowley’s had uniform and police dogs go over the hotel with a fine-tooth comb… It’s safe, nothing was found, and there’s a heavy uniform presence inside and outside the hotel.’

Jane tensed up again. ‘But I recognise him… I recognise him!’

‘All right, all right… just stay calm… I’ll ask the duty inspector in charge of security about the PC dealing with parking.’

Jane nodded as Dexter took her by the arm and, to the annoyance of the queuing officers, led her straight into the hotel. Dexter got her safely through security and told her to find Stanley and wait for him in the saloon bar, while he spoke with the Duty Inspector. Dexter showed his warrant card to the inspector who was holding a clip board.

‘The officer directing the parking… do you know him?’

‘What’s his shoulder number?’ the inspector interrupted.

‘I don’t know.’

The inspector flicked through the paper attached to his clipboard. ‘Uniforms have been drafted in from various stations so I don’t know them all personally. Let’s see now… parking duties…’ He ran his finger down the list of names, numbers and allocated duties. ‘Ah here we go… PC 332. A. Crane from Cannon Row directing parking… Does he need help?’

‘No, I was just checking he was on the list.’

Dexter was relieved. Jane must have been imagining things.

Back in the saloon bar the drinks were flowing. Everyone was in evening dress, black ties and full-length dresses. Jane had to hold up her ripped skirt as she searched for Stanley, but he was nowhere to be seen. She eventually caught sight of Blondie Dunston from the Dip Squad, and grabbed his arm, causing him to almost drop his glass of champagne.

‘My God, Tennison, you look terrific! But what’s the matter?’

‘I urgently need to speak to DS Stanley… where is he?’

‘Went off to call Crowley… By the way, this is Alison, Stanley’s wife — and that’s my girlfriend.’ Blondie pointed at a glamorous redhead who was busy talking to Maynard.

Jane turned to Alison, a pretty girl, wearing a thick decorative band in her hair.

‘It’s lovely to meet you,’ Jane said, ‘but I’m really looking for your husband…’

‘You all right, Jane? What’s happened to your skirt? You need a surgeon to stitch it up?’ Maynard joked.

‘Where did Stanley go? Please — I really need to speak to him.’

Maynard shrugged and gestured to the wide staircase beside the dining room. ‘Probably the police security room. It’s somewhere on the first-floor corridor.’

Jane pushed her way through the growing throng, who were all intent on kicking the evening off at the free bar. She ran up the stairs and down the red-carpeted corridor, shouting at the top of her voice.

‘Stanley… STANLEY!’

Stanley appeared at the door of one of the rooms.

‘You have to come downstairs, NOW! Dexter’s waiting… The bomber from Covent Garden… I’ve just seen him…’ Jane was gasping for breath.

‘ What ?’

‘He’s directing the parking! He’s wearing a police uniform.’