‘She could be lying about it, you know,’ Cal said. ‘Just making it all up … you know what junkies are like.’
‘Yeah, but why would Bishop keep the cigarette packet with the registration number on it if it didn’t mean anything?’
Cal shook his head. ‘I don’t really understand why he kept it anyway.’
‘Because he knew that I’d had a few drinks last night, and he was guessing that without the packet I wouldn’t remember the number. And if I didn’t remember the number, then I couldn’t try to track it … shit.’
‘What?’
‘Well, if I didn’t have the number, what would I do?’
‘You’d go back to Tasha … fuck, yeah, I see what you mean. If Bishop thinks you don’t have the number, he’s going to try to get to Tasha before you do.’
‘And she’s probably got a record, so he’ll know where she lives.’
‘Fuck,’ Cal said. ‘We need to find her as soon as possible. Tonight might be too late.’
‘I don’t see how we can. She won’t be on the streets now, and even if we could find some of the other girls, they’re not going to tell us where she lives.’
‘Do you know her surname?’
I shook my head. ‘And Tasha’s probably her street name anyway.’
‘So we don’t know her surname, or her real first name, and we don’t know where she lives — ’
‘We need to look at this differently,’ I said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘We can’t get to Tasha before Bishop, can we?’
‘No.’
‘So we have to stop Bishop getting to Tasha.’
‘Right. And how the fuck do we do that?’
‘By letting Bishop know that I have got the registration number she gave me.’
‘Have you?’
I rolled up my sleeve and showed him the number I’d written on my arm when I was in the back of the patrol car last night. ‘It’s something I learned from my drunk days,’ I told Cal. ‘You can’t trust yourself not to forget anything, or not to lose anything, when you’re drinking. So if you really need to remember something, write it down where it can’t get lost.’
It was Cal’s idea to check out the registration number first.
‘It won’t take long,’ he told me. ‘Once we’ve found out whatever we find out, we can decide how to let Bishop know.’ He went over to his work desk and started tapping away on a laptop. ‘I’m still working on that other registration number you gave me, by the way,’ he said. ‘The Renault.’
‘Any luck?’
‘Not yet. I’ve still got a few more things to try, but it’s not looking too hopeful at the moment.’
‘OK. Well, let me know if you find anything.’
While Cal set about entering the vehicle details I’d given him, I gave Ada a quick call at the office.
‘I’m at Cal’s,’ I told her. ‘He’s helping me out with the Anna Gerrish case.’
‘How’s it going? Are you getting anywhere with it?’
‘Well, kind of …’
‘Kind of?’
‘It’s complicated. There’s a chance that Bishop might have something to do with it. Personally, I mean.’
‘Really?’
‘Well, I haven’t got any proof yet, but I’m pretty sure that he’s got something to do with it. He’s made it clear that he doesn’t want me looking into it, and I’m fairly sure that he’s having me followed.’
‘Did he have anything to do with you getting beaten up the other night?’
‘How do you know about that?’
‘George Salvini. He said it looked like you’d been through a meat grinder — ’
‘It wasn’t that bad, Ada.’
‘You should have told me.’
‘Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I was going to — ’
‘Was it Bishop?’
‘I don’t know … I’m fairly sure that he wasn’t one of the men who attacked me, but it’s possible he was behind it.’
Ada sighed. ‘Is there anything else you haven’t told me?’
I thought about lying to her for a moment, but I knew she’d find out about the drink-driving charge eventually, so I decided I might as well tell her. ‘I was arrested last night — ’
‘Oh, John …’
‘It’s all right,’ I told her. ‘It was a set-up. I didn’t actually do anything — ’
‘What was the charge?’
‘Kerb crawling and drink-driving. But, like I said — ’
‘Kerb crawling?’
‘It was a set-up, Ada — ’
‘And what about the drink-driving? Were you over the limit?’
‘Well, yeah, but — ’
‘Shit, John. You could lose your fucking licence.’
‘I know,’ I said, looking over at Cal. He was clicking his fingers at me, drawing my attention to the laptop screen. ‘I have to go, Ada,’ I said. ‘We’ll talk about this later. But listen, if Bishop or anyone else from the police calls — ’
‘I don’t know where you are.’
‘Thanks. I might be in later, but if I’m not — ’
‘Just let me know what’s happening, John. All right?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Promise?’
‘Cross my heart …’
‘And be careful, OK?’
‘OK.’
I ended the call, lit a cigarette, and went over to Cal.
‘I’ve got it,’ he said, pointing at the laptop screen. ‘The Nissan’s registered to a Charles Raymond Kemper. Fifty-three years old, no points on his licence, a home address in Leicester.’
‘Leicester?’
‘Yeah. I’ve done a quick search through all the usual databases — phone listings, utilities, council tax, electoral roll — but I haven’t found anything else so far.’ He looked at me. ‘Does the name mean anything to you?’
‘Charles Raymond Kemper …?’ I shook my head. ‘Not as far as I know.’
‘I’ll do some more checking,’ Cal said. ‘See what I can find out.’
‘All right, but leave it for now. There’s something else I want you to do. And we need to let Bishop know about the registration number too.’
‘Have you got his mobile number?’
‘I think so,’ I said, taking Bishop’s business card from my pocket and studying it. ‘Yeah, here it is. What do you think we should do? Just text him the number?’
Cal nodded. ‘There’s no point in letting him know we’ve got the name too. Do you want to send it anonymously?’
I thought about it, then shook my head. ‘If he doesn’t know who it came from, he might think Tasha sent it. You know, he might think she’s trying to blackmail him. And then he’ll definitely go after her.’
‘Yeah, but if he knows that you sent it — ’
‘It doesn’t matter, does it? He already knows that Tasha gave me the number, and he must have known there was a chance I’d remember it.’
‘Yeah, all right,’ Cal said. ‘But instead of using your mobile, why don’t we use one of my untraceable phones instead? Just text him the registration number, nothing else, and sign it with your initials.’
‘What’s the point? If he knows it’s from me anyway — ’
‘He’ll think it’s from you,’ Cal said, smiling. ‘He’ll be 99 % certain that the text came from you, but he’ll still try to trace it, just to make sure. And the trace will take him halfway round the world and back. And eventually, after three or four hours, his IT people will realise that the trace is going round and round in circles, and they’re never going to get anywhere with it.’
‘And what’s that going to achieve?’
Cal smiled again. ‘It’ll keep him busy for a while, waste his time … give him something to think about.’
‘And piss him off.’
‘Yeah, that too.’
I smiled. ‘OK, let’s do it.’
After he’d sent the text, Cal said to me, ‘All right, what next?’
‘CCTV cameras,’ I said. ‘Can you hack into them?’
‘What kind of CCTV?’
‘Just the usual stuff, you know …’
‘Town-centre cameras, that kind of thing?’
‘Yeah.’
He nodded. ‘No problem.’
‘What about old footage?’
‘How old?’
‘A month or so.’
He looked at me. ‘The night Anna disappeared?’
‘Yeah. I know it’s a long shot, but if we can find any footage of the Nissan around the time that Anna was picked up that night, it might give us an idea of where she was being taken. Do you think you can do that?’