By the time they passed a sign warning trespassers that they would be prosecuted, the inspector realized that he had long since lost sight of the flickering light that had been apparent when they had first left the car. From behind an overgrown hedge, the partially built properties stood in sullen silence, illuminated only by the light of a half-moon. Carlyle came to a halt at the main entrance, trying to gauge the size of the overall site. How long will it take me to search this place? he wondered. With the possibility of another debacle looming large, he glanced at the sergeant.
‘A hundred and something acres,’ Elmhirst said, reading his mind.
None the wiser, Carlyle nodded. ‘You wait here and I’ll go and see what I can find.’
‘That’s a lot of ground for one person to cover.’
Carlyle grinned. ‘I don’t want us both to get lost.’
‘OK,’ the sergeant nodded. ‘Don’t be too long though.’
‘If I’m not back in an hour, go and get Gapper.’
‘Will do.’
‘And remember, if things get out of hand again and there’s a problem you two can’t deal with, your first call is to Simpson. Leave the local plod out of this. They don’t even know we’re here.’ Registering her confused look, he added, ‘We’re not exactly playing this one by the book, are we?’
‘I suppose not.’
‘So let’s try and get in and out without anyone noticing.’
‘Yep.’
‘Good . . .’ he was just about to say girl, then thought better of it. No need to make his dinosaur tendencies any more apparent than was absolutely necessary. It was just that she was so terribly young; it brought out the worst in him in so many ways.
The sergeant looked at him solemnly, as if anticipating further pearls of wisdom.
‘Remember,’ the inspector joked, keen not to disappoint, ‘this is the how not to do it module of your training.’
‘I realize that,’ Elmhirst smiled patronizingly. ‘In fact, I think that’s one of the main reasons why Commander Simpson sent me to work with you in the first place.’
‘What?’ said Carlyle, suddenly affronted. ‘So that I could show you how to mess things up?’
‘No, no,’ she corrected him, ‘more to show me that there is still some leeway for independent action by mid-ranking officers within the often confusing and sometimes conflicting parameters set down by the organization for choosing a particular course of action in different circumstances.’
Bamboozled by the gobbledygook, he frowned. ‘Eh?’
‘I think the Commander wants me to understand that you can’t always hide behind the rule book and Health amp; Safety. Sometimes you have to simply trust your own judgement.’
‘Amen to that,’ said Carlyle, somewhat mollified by her simpler explanation.
‘The Commander described you as “flexible, if occasionally reckless”.’
We-ell. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’
‘That’s up to you.’ Reaching forward, she placed a hand on his shoulder, making him jump. ‘Just remember, however, that this is not the time to be reckless. Apart from everything else, we have to assume that Marcus Popp is armed.’
‘But not very dangerous,’ Carlyle quipped.
‘That sounds like reckless talk to me. He’s got a weapon, for heaven’s sake.’
‘I’m not worried about that,’ Carlyle responded, stepping smartly away from her grasp. ‘The gun is not going to be a factor here.’
‘You don’t know that,’ she scolded.
‘Look,’ he gestured towards the rotting buildings behind him, ‘if the two of them are holed up in this place, it really is game over. If he’s sitting here, with no idea about what to do with Kortmann, Popp has basically run out of ideas – assuming he ever had any in the first place.’
‘That’s a bit of an assumption.’
‘Always assume,’ Carlyle retorted. ‘You’ve always got to take an informed view, based on your experience. That’s what we’re paid to do, after all.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Standing here, right now, we have to ask certain questions. What the hell’s Popp doing way out here? What’s that got to do with finding his mother? What does he want to do next?’ Elmhirst started to say something, but he cut her off. ‘The answer to each of the above is “nothing”. If he didn’t have a screw loose at the start of this whole escapade, he’s certainly got one loose now. Sitting on the damp concrete, worrying about his piles, he’s just waiting to be caught.’
‘That’s a lot of assumptions.’
‘That’s what being flexible is all about.’
‘And if they’re not here?’
‘If they’re not, we go home and I’ll have a moan at Simpson in the morning.’
Hands on hips, Elmhirst changed tack. ‘Maybe you should have brought a gun.’
The inspector was adamant. ‘I don’t like guns. Anyway, I’m not authorized to carry one. I’ve never shot a gun in my life.’ If those first two statements were true, the last was an outright lie. Carlyle knew only too well what it felt like to pull the trigger with the blood pounding in his ears. But that was another time, another place; an operation that was so far off piste that none of his colleagues in the Met could ever know about it.
Elmhirst gave him a funny look.
‘I know, I know. I’m a total dinosaur in so many ways. But look at it like this: Gregori, or Popp, whatever his name is, he could have killed Umar and me back at that farmhouse if he had wanted to. He has no intention of killing a cop.’
‘Another assumption.’
‘Another reasonable assumption.’
Clearly not convinced, Elmhirst pondered different scenarios. ‘Even if that’s right, he could always shoot Kortmann . . . or himself.’
‘He won’t shoot Kortmann,’ Carlyle insisted. ‘He needs him – or at least, he thinks he does. He’s trying to find his mum, remember?’
‘I just hope that you’re right.’
‘I’m always right,’ Carlyle chuckled. ‘That’s how I made it to Inspector.’
The sergeant failed to look impressed. ‘What if he shoots himself though?’
‘That’s not going to help him find his mum, is it?’
‘No, but he could do something stupid.’
‘Just for a change.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘Well,’ the inspector sniffed, ‘if he does do something stupid, he won’t get any complaints from me.’
Elmhirst gave a despairing sigh. ‘Just be careful.’
‘I’m always careful.’
As he stepped across the muddy entrance, Carlyle’s foot brushed against something metallic. Looking down, he saw that it was a length of half-inch pipe. Picking it up, he weighed it in his hand. It felt good. What was the saying? Speak softly and carry a big stick. That seemed as good a plan as any. Waving at Elmhirst with the pipe, he continued on his way.
THIRTY-FIVE
After five minutes of walking at a steady pace, Carlyle had completely lost his bearings. All of the plots on the abandoned development looked the same – square boxes squashed together, with barely enough space in between them to park a small family saloon. The only apparent difference was how far work had progressed on each unit. By the time the whole endeavour had come to a grinding halt, some were little more than a set of foundations, while others were almost a complete shell, with walls on both the ground and first floors. One or two even had the beginnings of a roof, a wooden skeleton waiting for tiles that would never be laid.
The main road through the estate went in a circle, with groups of eight or ten houses set on a series of cul-de-sacs, spokes leading off from the hub. In the centre of the development was a long, featureless building, three storeys high. Those must be the flats, Carlyle presumed. Stopping for a moment, to try and better get his bearings, he looked around. The place was completely dark, with no signs of activity. A gust of wind whistled down the road, making him shiver. Regardless of the time of year, it was cold at night. Moreover, the inspector was dressed for the city, rather than the countryside. His jacket was thin and offered little warmth.