Archer, Jeffrey - Hidden in Plain Sight

‘Sorry,’ he whispered, as he picked it up. ‘Who’s this?’

‘Hawksby.’

‘Good morning, sir.’

‘Get yourself to Battersea heliport as quickly as possible, DS Warwick. A car will be with you in a few minutes’ time. Don’t keep me waiting.’

‘Anything I ought to know, sir?’

‘It’s snowing,’ said the Hawk before the line went dead.

William put the phone down and quickly threw on yesterday’s clothes, before kissing Beth, which elicited a second groan, as he headed for the door.

‘Where are you off to at this time in the morning, caveman?’

‘I wish I knew,’ he said, and had closed the bedroom door before she could ask any more questions he couldn’t answer. As he opened the front door a squad car was pulling up outside.

‘Morning, sarge,’ said a familiar voice as the car drove off through the falling snow.

‘Morning, Danny. Any idea what’s going on?’

‘Above my pay grade. All I know is that I’ve got to get you to Battersea heliport sharpish, where you’ll meet up with Commander Hawksby.’

Danny sped off down Royal Hospital Road, blue light flashing, but no siren. ‘Wouldn’t want to wake the neighbours, would we?’

‘Or Beth,’ said William, as he thought about his pregnant wife. Not long now.

There wasn’t much traffic on the road at that time in the morning, so Danny didn’t need to perform his usual box of tricks, though William still had to cling on to the dashboard whenever he took a corner, as if they were on a vast skid-pad.

‘I bet the Hawk’s already standing there waiting for us,’ said William, as they shot across Battersea Bridge and took a sharp right.

‘Sitting, actually, sarge, in the back of the helicopter.’

‘Of course he is,’ said William, as they passed through the front gate of the heliport. He jumped out of the car as it skidded to a halt, nearly losing his balance as he sloshed through the snow to the waiting helicopter. He dived into the back.

‘Good morning, sir,’ William said, as he strapped himself in.

‘A perfect morning for what I have in mind, DS Warwick,’ responded the commander as the rotor blades began to spin. ‘As you’re about to find out.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘Wrong question. It’s not where we’re going that’s important, but what we’re looking for. So keep your eyes peeled.’

‘Any clues?’ asked William, as the helicopter rose into the sky, and he looked back over his shoulder to see the House of Commons covered in snow, looking like a Christmas card.

‘Not if you’re hoping for your next promotion.’

The helicopter banked left and headed south-east, leaving Westminster behind them.

‘Any observations you want to share with me?’ asked the Hawk after a few minutes.

‘We’re flying over Wandsworth, Southwark and Brixton,’ said William. ‘So we must be looking for tower blocks, and one in particular?’

‘You’re halfway there,’ said the commander, as the pilot made a smooth 180-degree turn, before heading back towards Brixton. ‘So, what’s unusual about this morning?’

‘It’s snowing heavily,’ said William, but didn’t add, so what?

‘You’re so sharp, DS Warwick, you could peel an apple.’

They flew over Battersea Bridge for a second time, but William was still none the wiser, although the commander clearly knew exactly what he was looking for, as his eyes remained focused on the buildings below.

After the pilot had turned back for a third time and took a slightly different route, the Hawk suddenly declared, ‘There it is, staring us both in the face.’

‘There’s what?’ said William, as the helicopter swooped down to hover for a moment above one particular tower block.

‘Take a closer look, DS Warwick, and tell me what you see. Or more important, what you don’t see.’

William stared through the falling snow and then suddenly let out a yelp of triumph. ‘Got it!’

‘What have you got, DS Warwick?’

‘The roof that isn’t covered in snow.’

‘And what does that tell you?’

‘Has to be above a drugs factory where they’re growing cannabis.’

‘Why?’

‘Because the rising heat from the massive arc lights inside is melting the snow the moment it settles.’

‘In one. So now we’ve discovered where Rashidi’s slaughter is, we can move on to the more difficult challenge of how we get inside without him realizing we know his most closely guarded secret.’

A job for your UCO, thought William, but didn’t offer his opinion as the helicopter headed back to Battersea. If he had mentioned it, the commander would have agreed with him, although he wouldn’t have told him he had an appointment with Marlboro Man later that morning.

‘What’s it going to cost me?’

‘In and out, clean job, five grand cash should do it,’ his fellow prisoner said, as they continued their slow perambulation around the yard. ‘But it won’t be possible if anyone else is on the premises.’

‘Then it will have to be on a Friday,’ said Faulkner. ‘That’s the housekeeper’s day off when she visits her mother in Sevenoaks. They have lunch together and go to the local cinema, before she spends the evening at her mother’s house. She’s rarely back at the Hall much before eleven.’

‘You seem remarkably clued-in about her movements, remembering we’re banged up in here.’

‘Although my ex-wife has sacked most of the staff, she’s kept my chauffeur on. He’s currently receiving two pay packets a week, and I pay both of them.’

‘How do I get paid?’

‘Makins, who used to be my butler, will be waiting at the Hall next Saturday evening. He has another job to do for me during the day, so if your man turns up at around seven, he’ll receive the first thousand.’

‘And the rest?’

‘You’ll get that when it’s clear for all to see that the job’s been done.’

They shook hands. The only way a contract can be closed in prison. A long buzzer sounded, and the prisoners began to drift out of the yard and make their way slowly back to their cells.

‘And the young man?’ said Faulkner before they went their separate ways. ‘Don’t forget we’ll need his services the night before.’

‘Got the ideal person for the assignment. But that will cost you another grand.’

‘I’ll need to make a phone call this evening,’ Faulkner murmured as he passed the duty officer.

‘No problem, Mr Faulkner. I’ll come and get you around seven o’clock.’

23

CHRISTINA PICKED HIM up in Tramp, fed him, plied him with champagne, and then took him back to her flat in Eaton Square. She knew it ought to be the other way round, but she was no longer twenty-two or thirty-two, and it wouldn’t be long before she was forty-two. When she woke the following morning, she was surprised to find Justin was still there, looking just as appetizing as he had the night before. Bless him.

She slipped out from under the covers and made her way into the bathroom, where she tried to remove a few years with the help of a little make-up and a dab of perfume, before returning to bed to pretend she’d just woken. She began to stroke the inside of his leg, slowly arousing him, until he could no longer control himself. After they’d made love for the third time – or was it the fourth? – they enjoyed a long bath and an even longer breakfast, over which she discovered Justin didn’t have a job. But then why would one bother when you were that good-looking?

Christina began to wonder if she could hold on to him until she moved to Florida. As he was leaving he asked if she could lend him a fiver for a taxi. She gave him ten, and they agreed to meet for dinner that night. She checked her watch, aware she’d have to get moving if she was going to make it to Limpton Hall by eleven, when she would be overseeing the loading of the paintings by Christie’s.