The following morning, Marcus drove to a small, supermarket car park and left his car there. Then he used the cover of Elveden forest and walked to the area where he was concealed now, in the copse of Silver Birch trees.
Marcus couldn’t see the Mercedes there, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t; it could have been inside one of the two garages Marcus could see in the grounds of the house. But what intrigued him was the fact that there was a Dodge pick-up truck in USAF colours parked out front. And shortly after making himself comfortable, Marcus had seen an American airman come out of the house and climb into the truck. The airman had driven away from the house and taken the road to Barton Mills, in the direction of the American base at Lakenheath.
Marcus turned his attention back to the front door of the house. It was set deep into a portico type entrance with columns either side. It meant that the main door was set back from the lip of the porch by about five feet. It also meant that anybody who called at the front door would be virtually unseen from the road. He gave it some considerable thought and filed it away in his memory bank.
About an hour after the airman had left the house, one of the garage doors swung open. Marcus focussed his binoculars on to the door as a Volvo Estate was driven out of the garage by a woman. The garage door closed behind her as she swept out of the drive and on to the road to Thetford.
Marcus spent the next three hours monitoring the house, but all that happened was the woman returned, the garage door swung up and over and the Volvo disappeared into the garage. The door closed again and this gave Marcus the beginning of an idea. All he needed was the balls to carry it out, but it meant waiting until he was confident he would be undisturbed, and that his estimation of what he had seen meant he had a good chance of carrying it off.
Susan almost leapt out of her skin when Maggot spoke to her. Because her mind had been drawn to the unexpected emptiness of Marcus’s office, she hadn’t seen him. He was standing by the door that led into a small toilet. He had been on the point of opening it when he heard Susan open the main door. And when he spoke to her she visibly jumped.
‘Oh my goodness,’ Susan cried putting her hand to her mouth. ‘You frightened the life out of me.’
Maggot apologised. ‘I’m sorry, but if I had said nothing, you would still have jumped when you turned round.’
Susan looked at the stranger. She guessed he was from India or Pakistan although he spoke excellent English.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked him.
Maggot shrugged. ‘I could ask you the same thing,’ he pointed out.
‘I’m a client of Marcus Blake,’ she told him.
Maggot tipped his head back as something dawned on him. ‘I see; you must be Susan Ellis then.’
Susan was surprised that the stranger knew her name. ‘How did you know that?’ she stabbed at him. Doesn’t Marcus understand client confidentiality?’
He smiled at her. ‘Marcus mentioned that you are no longer a client; that is why I know who you are.’
‘Well client or not, I am here to see Marcus.’
He made a sweeping gesture with his hand. ‘But, as you can see, Marcus is no longer here.’
Susan looked round the empty room as though it might make some difference and Marcus would suddenly appear.
‘Are you his business partner or something?’ she asked.
Maggot shook his head. ‘No, I am just a friend. The only one in the whole of London, I think.’
‘Well where is he? Has he moved or something?’ she demanded to know.
He pursed his lips and gave a little shake of his head. ‘I’ve no idea. But why don’t you and I go and find a coffee shop and we can talk about what we know and what we may be able to find out?’
Susan agreed because it seemed so silly the two of them standing there face to face in an empty room. He was still holding his hands out, palms uppermost, and as he relaxed and dropped his hands to his sides, Susan noticed they were heavily calloused, and the little finger on one hand was missing.
That evening Marcus went back to Thetford; different pub, different meal. Before choosing the pub, Marcus bought a Maglite torch in the supermarket where he had parked his car. Once he had fed and watered himself, Marcus drove back to the house and parked his car in a lay-by a short distance away, locked it and made his way through the edge of the forest to continue his watch.
As darkness closed in and the temperature fell, Marcus decided to get closer to the house. He knew he would have to be alert for any kind of alarm system there might be, or even dogs.
There was very little in the way of security around the perimeter; simply a stout wall made from Norfolk stone. It was a little higher than six feet, but it proved no obstacle for Marcus, and as he landed on his feet inside the rear garden, he dropped flat and lay still.
He heard no alarms ringing and no dogs barking, so after five minutes he ventured closer until he was up against the outside wall of the double garage. He was about to edge round the front of the garage when he heard the sound of a car pulling into the drive. Its wheels crunched across the gravel and it stopped outside the front door.
Immediately, the front door opened and the man who Marcus had seen earlier that day in uniform came out of the house. He greeted the man who was climbing out of the driver’s side of the car and they both turned and went inside.
As soon as they had disappeared, Marcus ran across to the car and peered through the windows to make sure the car was empty. He had noticed that the driver hadn’t bothered to lock the car, probably comfortable with the idea that while it was on the premises, it was safe, or he had simply forgot.
He eased the car door open and, using the small Maglite torch he had purchased from the supermarket, began checking through the glove box and under the seats to locate the car’s documents. He pulled out a plastic folder from beneath the passenger seat. Flipping it open he saw the certificate of insurance and other sundry paperwork. He slipped the certificate into his pocket, put the wallet back beneath the passenger seat and went back to the far wall of the garage.
Marcus began to consider his next move. He had no way of knowing if the visitor to the house was simply a family friend or someone who was in league with the American who lived there. At the same time, he still didn’t know if the Mercedes used in the attempted hit on Cavendish was actually in the garage or not, and he had to find out. He did think about following the visitor once he had left the house, but with the man’s car insurance certificate in his pocket, there was no need for that. So he decided to wait until the visitor left and then he would go back to Thetford, stay the night and come back to the little copse of trees in the morning.
Just then Marcus heard the sound of a door closing somewhere. He realised it was coming from inside the garage, so was almost certainly the internal door. He heard the muffled sound of a car starting and then a slight squeal as one of the garage doors began to open.
Marcus hoped it might be the Mercedes, but instead it was the Volvo, and it was the same woman he had seen that morning who was driving. She roared out of the garage and disappeared down the drive. Marcus seized his chance and ran into the garage as the automatic door began its slow drop until it was closed.
He pulled the Maglite out of his pocket and switched it on. The Mercedes was there. He checked the licence plate; it was the same one. He then tried the passenger door and found it was open. He began searching for the car documents and eventually learned that the car was registered to one Danvor Grebo. His occupation was given as ‘Airman, USAF’.
He put the paperwork back and began a cursory check around the garage. His torch beam fell on the internal door, and immediately Marcus thought it might be a good opportunity to get into the house unseen and undetected.