She had begged me to delete the pictures from my camera, but as I had pointed out, it was she and Alex who had started this blackmail business, and they really couldn't now complain if they were receiving a bit of their own medicine.
I had parked Ian Norland's car out on Water Lane in Greenham and had walked around the corner into Bush Close. I was carrying a pile of free newspapers that I had picked up at a petrol station, and I walked down the road, pushing one of them through every letter box. The houses were not identical, but they were similar, and number sixteen had the same style of plastic-framed front door as all the others.
"What time does Alex get back?" I had asked Julie.
"His plane lands at Heathrow at six-twenty tomorrow evening."
"And how does he get home to Greenham?"
"I've no idea."
I lingered for a moment outside the front door of number sixteen and adjusted the pile of remaining newspapers. I glanced around, looking for suitable hiding places, but the short driveway was bordered by nothing but grass. I looked to see which of the other houses had a direct line of sight to the front door of number sixteen, set back as it was beside the single garage.
Only number fifteen, opposite, had an unobstructed view.
I walked away from number sixteen and pushed newspapers through the front doors of a few more houses, including the one opposite, before moving off down the road, back towards Ian's car. However, instead of immediately driving away, I walked through a gateway and into the adjacent field. Alex Reece's house, together with all the other even-numbered houses in Bush Close, backed onto farmland, and I spent some time carefully reconnoitering the whole area.
I looked at my watch. It was just after five-thirty, and the light was beginning to fade rapidly.
Alex Reece couldn't possibly be back here the following evening until eight o'clock at the earliest, and it would probably be nearer to nine if he had to collect luggage at the airport. And that was assuming his flight landed on time. By eight o'clock, of course, it would have been fully dark for hours.
Keeping in the shadows of some trees, I skirted around the backs of the gardens in Bush Close until I arrived at number sixteen. There were lights on in the kitchen of number fourteen next door, and I could see a man and a woman in there talking. That was good, I thought. No one can see outside at dusk when they have the lights on inside, due to the reflection in the window glass, and especially when they are busy talking. There was little or no chance that they could see me watching them.
I quickly rolled my body over the low back fence and into Alex Reece's garden. It was mostly simply laid to grass, with no tangly flower beds or thorny rosebushes to worry about.
I moved silently to the back of the garage and looked in. Even in the fast disappearing light I could see the shiny shape of a car in there. So Mr. Reece would probably arrive home by taxi, either direct from the airport or from the railway station in Newbury.
And I'd be waiting for him.
Did we win?" I asked Ian, as I walked in through his door at seven o'clock.
"Win what?" he said, without taking his eyes off the television screen.
"Oregon," I said, "in the race at Haydock."
"Trotted up," he said, still not turning around. "Won by six lengths. Reckon he'll be hard to beat in the Triumph."
"Good," I said to the back of his head. "What are you watching?"
"Just some TV talent show."
"Have you eaten?" I asked.
"Had a pizza for lunch," he said. "From the freezer. One of them you bought yesterday. But I didn't have that until after the race. I was too nervous to eat before."
"So are you hungry?"
"Not really. Not yet. Maybe I'll have Chinese later."
"Great idea," I said. "I'll buy."
He turned around and smiled, and I guessed that was what he was hoping I'd say.
"How long are you staying?" he asked, turning back to the screen.
"I'll find somewhere else if you want," I said. "You know the houseguests and the three-day-smell rule, and my time is up tonight."
"Stay as long as you like," he said. "I'm enjoying the company."
And the free food, I thought, perhaps ungraciously.
"I'll stay another day or two, if that's all right."
"As I said, stay as long as you want, if you don't mind the couch."
I didn't. It was a lot more comfortable than some of the places I'd slept, and warmer too.
"Can I borrow your car again tomorrow?" I asked.
"Sorry, mate. I need it," he said. "I'm going to Sunday lunch with my folks."
"Where do they live?"
"Near Banbury," he said.
"So what time will you be back?" I asked.
"It'll be before five," he said. "Evening stables are at five on Sundays."
"Can I borrow the car after that?"
"Sure," he said. "But it might need more petrol by then."
"OK," I said. "I'll fill it up."
I could tell he was smiling, even though he didn't turn around. Why didn't he just ask me to pay for the use of his car? I suppose it was a little game.
I could have gone to fetch my Jaguar, but it was a very distinctive car, and I wasn't particularly keen to advertise my whereabouts to anyone. Ian's little Corsa was far more anonymous. I just hoped my Jaguar was still sitting in the parking lot in Oxford, awaiting my return.
I spent Sunday morning making my plans and sorting my kit. I had been back into Kauri House on Saturday afternoon after leaving Julie Yorke, and before my excursion to Greenham.
The house had been empty, save for the dogs, who had watched me idly and unconcerned as I'd passed through the kitchen, stepping over their beds in front of the Aga. My mother and stepfather had been safely away at Haydock races, but nevertheless, I had remained in the house for only fifteen or twenty minutes, just time enough to have a quick shower and collect a few things from my room.
I did not really want my mother coming back unexpectedly and finding me there. It was not because I didn't trust her not to give away my presence, even unwittingly, it was more that I didn't want to have to explain to her what I was going to do. She probably wouldn't have approved, so it was much better that she didn't know beforehand, if ever.
Ian left for his Sunday lunch trip at eleven, promising that he would be back in time to start work at five.
After I was sure Ian wasn't going to come back, I sorted the equipment I would need for my mission. Bits of it I had owned previously, but some things I'd driven into Newbury to buy specifically the previous afternoon on my way to Greenham.
I laid out my black roll-necked pullover, a pair of old, dark navy blue jeans, some dark socks, a black knitted ski hat and some matching gloves that I'd bought from the sports shop in Market Street, where I'd also obtained a pair of all-black Converse basketball boots.
Next to the clothes I placed the rest of my kit: a small dark blue rucksack, some black heavy-duty garden ties similar to those that had been used to bind my wrists in the stables, a small red first-aid kit, three six-by-four-inch prints of the mailbox-shop photos, a certain metal ring with a piece of galvanized steel chain attached to it by a padlock, my camera and, finally, a roll of gray duct tape.
There is a saying in every organization of the world, either military or civilian, that if something doesn't move when it should, use WD-40, and if it moves when it shouldn't, use duct tape. Originally designed during the Second World War to keep gun magazines and ammunition boxes watertight in jungle conditions, duct tape has since become the must-have item for each and every mission. It was even used to fix a fender on the Apollo 17 Lunar Rover when it was broken on the moon, as well as making the circular CO2 scrubbers "fit" square holes to save the lives of the crew of the stricken Apollo 13.