It was then she remembered her recent visitor who’d said she was from the electoral registration office. Whoever she really was, perhaps she could help. It had been evening by then, after six o’clock, so she wasn’t sure if she’d still be there. But nowadays people seemed to work long hours and they all had these mobile phones, so she thought it worth giving it a try. She took the card down from the sideboard and dialled the number.
A woman’s voice had answered, and thinking it was the girl she’d met, Mrs Donovan began to explain – until the woman interrupted. Once the confusion was sorted out, and Mrs Donovan had explained who she was trying to reach and why, the woman had promised to pass the message on. She’d said she’d be rung back right away. But nothing had happened.
It was nearly ten hours now since she’d rung. She’d seen Mika go out in his car, but the other people were still next door. She could hear them moving about even though it was the middle of the night. Mika had not come back; the car wasn’t there. She’d been tempted to ring the number again but there probably wasn’t any point.
Perhaps she was just being a silly old woman. Part of Mrs Donovan hoped she was, and that she was wrong in her suspicions of the people next door. I think I’ll just forget about it, she thought, taking a sip of her now-tepid tea. I expect there’s some innocent explanation and Mrs Atiyah will sort it out when she gets back. She yawned and stood up to go back to bed. Not that she would sleep.
Chapter 58
It took eighteen minutes to reach the warehouse from Police HQ. They went in convoy, three cars in all. Chief Superintendent Lazarus stayed behind in the Ops Room to coordinate the operation. Liz drove with Chief Constable Pearson in his BMW; his driver, Tom, had turned the heater on high to melt the frost on the windows – the car had been standing outside waiting for the call to move and was cold inside as well as out.
At first there was no conversation in the car. They were listening to the radio transmissions as police cars converged on the industrial estate. Two ambulances were not far behind.
Then Pearson broke the silence. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight.’
‘Well—’ she began, then found herself with nothing more to say. She hadn’t expected to find herself here either. It seemed unreal. But she was grateful for the almost frantic sequence of events, since it kept her from thinking of the terrible happenings in Paris the night before. The night before? Incredibly it was only last night, even though it seemed to be days since she had first heard the news of Martin’s murder.
Pearson said, ‘I’m delighted that you’re here. Don’t get me wrong, I think young Peggy is extremely good. But I know she was glad when you showed up.’ He paused to listen to a burst of radio transmission then said, ‘I think you’re pretty remarkable, frankly, after the twenty-four hours you’ve had.’
‘I wanted to see things through,’ Liz said.
‘Of course. But listen, if this gets too much for you at any point, just let me know. Tom will drive you back to Police HQ and sort you out with one of our guest rooms. Then you can pick things up again tomorrow.’
The driver nodded. ‘I’ll be with the car. Just let me know if you want to go.’
‘That’s kind of you, but honestly—’
Pearson lifted a hand to interrupt. ‘Understood. Just remember if you change your mind, the offer holds.’
As they approached the trading estate they could see a ghoulish glow created by the dim sodium lights that lined the narrow strips of road and trailed off into the industrial enclave. Tom drove quickly, following the other two cars, turning right then left into a kind of cul de sac, at the end of which was a tarmac apron in front of a large metal warehouse. Scrubby grass and undergrowth filled the spaces between the warehouse and the adjacent buildings, derelict-looking brick and concrete workshops.
A lone policeman stood at the front of the tarmac, waving a flashlight to steer them around a small area which was marked by traffic cones. Behind the cones something lay on the ground covered by a tarpaulin sheet. With a jolt, Liz realised she was looking at McManus’s dead body. They were now part of the drama that they’d been watching on the screens in the Ops Room. She felt as if she had stepped from the audience onto the stage.
Three police vans and an ambulance were already neatly parked and Tom pulled up beside them. Another two cars bringing Peggy and some more uniformed officers had just arrived. Liz and Pearson followed the policemen into the warehouse, stepping gingerly over Jackson’s body, which was still lying in the entrance, also under a sheet.
Two members of the armed team were inside. One stood guard over Zara, who was handcuffed, sitting on a wooden crate. He was staring vacantly into space, pointedly ignoring the people around him. The other armed officer was trying to calm down the women, who had emerged from their tiny bedroom compartment at the side of the warehouse. The youngest was still shaking but now she was screaming too and tears were running down her face. Another, who seemed to be the oldest, was clawing at the arm of the policeman and shouting, ‘Not to shoot.’
The policeman was trying to unhook her hands and saying, ‘I’m not going to shoot you. You are quite safe here.’
But he was having no effect. The women were all clearly terrified and Liz couldn’t blame them; two men had been shot dead nearby less than half an hour after their arrival. This was not what they thought they’d come to England for.
‘Where’s the lorry driver?’ asked Liz, suddenly realising that someone was missing.
The armed policeman pointed to the cab. ‘He locked himself in when the shooting started. I’ve been trying to coax him out, but he’s scared to death.’
‘At least we know where he is. We’ll get to him in a minute,’ said Chief Constable Pearson. ‘First I want these women out of the way. Put them somewhere until we decide what to do with them.’
Peggy, who had come in behind Liz, stepped forward and touched the arm of the woman who was clutching at the policeman.
‘Come with me,’ she said in a gentle voice. ‘No one’s going to hurt you. Let’s go and see if we can make some coffee. Then I’ll ask someone to get you something to eat.’
The woman let go of the policeman and grasped Peggy’s hand. She looked at Peggy’s face with frightened, anxious eyes, then after a moment she turned to the others and said something. It seemed to calm them, and then, like a mother hen, Peggy rounded up the little group and ushered them back towards the bedroom.
The armed policeman, the Chief Constable and Liz all watched in silence. A silence that was broken when one of the policemen came up to the group and asked, ‘When we search the lorry, what are we looking for, sir?’
Pearson looked at Liz. She said, ‘Guns and grenades. The firearms are probably a mix of assault rifles and handguns. And a lot of ammunition – they asked for twenty thousand rounds. That will take up a fair amount of space.’
Pearson said, ‘I’m sure the driver knows where the cargo is hidden, so we should talk to him first. But whatever he says, take it slowly. I don’t want anything going off because someone gets impatient.’
The other officer had joined them. ‘I’ve frisked the suspect, sir,’ he said, pointing to Zara. ‘He wasn’t armed.’
Liz asked, ‘Was he carrying any ID?’
‘No.’
‘How about valuables? Any cash?’
‘He only had a few quid in his pocket, but he had something else worth a hell of a lot of money. A ticket for the derby tomorrow, at Old Trafford.’ He handed the ticket to Liz. As she studied it, he added, ‘They’re like gold dust.’