Archer, Jeffrey - Hidden in Plain Sight

The two cabs left the Yard and headed west towards the M4. Five miles from Limpton Hall, Danny pulled into a petrol station. He hadn’t run out of petrol, he was far too professional for that. But the advance party needed the sun to go even further west before they set out on the final part of the journey.

Jackie got out and stretched her legs, while William bought a KitKat from the shop, not because he was hungry, just to kill time. He had paced around the perimeter of the petrol station several times before Lamont finally said, ‘Let’s get going.’

William had never felt so nervous. He knew that everything now depended on the credibility of his contact. If Heath didn’t turn up, the whole operation would be aborted and they would have to return to Scotland Yard and face the wrath of the Hawk, who would be sitting waiting for them. William was all too aware that there would only be one person to blame. The word ‘detective’ would be erased from his warrant card and the mothball removed from his uniform.

After a short drive along the motorway, Danny turned down a country lane, and a mile or so further on the two cabs swung off the road and parked in a copse, from which they had a clear view of the house. Lamont was quickly out of the lead car, and immediately trained his binoculars on the front gates.

‘Perfect, Danny,’ he said. ‘We can see them, but they can’t see us.’

A photographer got out of the second car and climbed up into the branches of a nearby oak tree. He only needed a clear view of the road, and would have nothing to show them until they met up in the commander’s office the following morning for the debriefing. No one else was thinking about tomorrow.

Lamont turned his attention to a farmyard on the other side of the road. Officers in four squad cars and two large black windowless vans were well hidden behind the barn, awaiting their orders.

‘How did you manage that?’ asked William.

‘The farmer sits on the bench, and he hasn’t, how shall I put it, formed a high opinion of Faulkner over the years. He was only too happy to help.’

Jackie joined Lamont, a radio in her hand. ‘The taxis have all arrived at the local railway station, and are parked and ready, in case any of Faulkner’s guests should arrive by rail.’

‘Unlikely,’ said Lamont. ‘Criminals rarely travel by train. They don’t want to be in a situation where they can find themselves trapped. They like to be able to make themselves scarce at a moment’s notice, which is difficult on a moving train.’

‘What about the commander?’ asked William.

‘He’ll be behind his desk waiting impatiently for any news. It took all my powers of persuasion to convince him he shouldn’t join us.’

‘Winston Churchill had the same problem with King George VI on D-Day,’ said William.

‘That’s a comfort to know,’ said Lamont, his dry Scottish humour getting the better of him. They returned to the car. Only Danny seemed to be relaxed.

‘So in theory, DS Warwick, the next car to come over that hill will be driven by your OSC, who’ll be on his way to deliver the gear to Faulkner. Should he fail to make an appearance,’ Lamont added, his tone changing, ‘the Hawk’s orders couldn’t have been clearer. Abort. We’re not going to raid Faulkner’s house unless we can be sure the evidence we need to convict him has been delivered.’

‘No pressure,’ whispered Jackie as William checked his watch: 18.47.

No one spoke as they all stared intently in one direction, willing a car to appear. Heath might have been casual about his meetings with William, but surely he’d be on time for an important customer like Faulkner. Several more minutes passed before William breathed a sigh of relief, when he spotted a red MGB heading towards them. The binoculars confirmed that it was Heath at the wheel. He drove past them a few minutes after seven.

Lamont followed the car’s progress all the way to the front gates, where it came to a halt. A guard stepped out of the gatehouse, clipboard in hand. He spent a few moments talking to Heath before the gates swung open and the MGB proceeded up the long drive before disappearing from view.

Lamont picked up his radio and pressed the red button. ‘OSC has arrived and entered the grounds.’

‘Call me the minute he comes back out,’ responded the Hawk.

‘Will do, sir.’

Lamont began to pace around among the trees, uncomfortably aware that the success or failure of the operation was now in the hands of others. ‘Did you remember the sandwiches, Jackie?’ was all he had left to say.

‘Yes, sir. Cheese and tomato, or ham?’

‘Cheese and tomato.’

‘William?’

‘No, thank you,’ he said, recalling that less than forty-eight hours ago he had been with Beth, sitting in a restaurant in the Campo de’ Fiori, enjoying linguine alle vongole and a bottle of Barolo from a vineyard in Piedmont.

Twenty-six minutes later, the gates opened and Heath’s car reappeared. They all watched in silence as it came closer and closer, until he drove past their hiding place and disappeared back over the hill. Lamont radioed the commander and brought him up to date.

‘In theory,’ said Hawksby, ‘the next car should be the first of the dinner guests. Maintain radio silence until they’re all accounted for.’

They didn’t have to wait long before a green Jaguar sailed past them, the passenger in the back completely hidden behind grey-smoked windows.

‘If the windows in the back are clear, the passenger has nothing to hide,’ remarked Lamont.

‘I can’t imagine many of Faulkner’s friends having nothing to hide,’ said William, as he recorded the number plate in his pocket book. Three more cars followed in quick succession, and three more number plates were noted by William, before the radio crackled to life again. It was the temporary porter at the local railway station.

‘Yes, DC Adaja?’ said Lamont.

‘One of the guests has just arrived on the 7.32 from Waterloo and is on his way to Limpton Hall in the first of our cabs.’

‘That means we’ll get someone past the gates and up as far as the house, if only for a few minutes.’

‘I told him to report to you when he comes back out.’

‘Good thinking, Paul. Keep sweeping the platform.’

A few minutes later a black cab passed them and flashed its headlights twice. The photographer smiled for the first time as he had a clear view of the passenger. Lamont followed the taxi’s progress all the way to the front gates, a stopwatch in one hand, binoculars in the other. Two minutes and eighteen seconds later, the guard finished checking the invitation and the gates swung open once again.

‘With any luck,’ said Lamont, as another large chauffeur-driven car sped by, our man should be back with us in a few minutes’ time, and I’ll be able to ask him some questions we don’t yet have an answer to.’

‘Crooks seem to prefer Rolls-Royces,’ observed William, jotting down the latest number plate as another Silver Cloud purred by.

‘And not last year’s model,’ remarked Danny.

‘Nothing more than vulgar status symbols to show their place in the criminal pecking order,’ snarled Lamont.

William took a sip of water, but still ignored the last of the ham sandwiches. He was wondering if his heart could beat any faster, when the taxi reappeared and, moments later, pulled off the road to join them. Jackie took over binocular duty, while the cab driver joined them in the car.

‘Did you pick up any worthwhile information about your passenger?’ was Lamont’s first question to the driver.

‘He’s a banker, but I couldn’t find out which bank. His accent would suggest he’s from the Middle East. I slowed down as I passed you, so the photographer could get some decent shots. I can tell you, my taxi’s back windows have never been so clean. Just like you see in films.’