“Goodbye, sir.”
The flight up from Jersey to London Gatwick airport took approximately forty-five minutes. As the British Airways jet touched down, Annabelle Cunningham was lost deep in thought, thinking about her father who was laying in a coma because of a reckless driver in a fast car. Whoever it was, hadn’t even had the decency to stop, she thought, instead had just callously driven off up the road. This image brought tears to her eyes, and then the stewardess was lightly touching Annabelle’s shoulder to tell her that they had landed. Outside the terminal building a chauffeur was waiting to greet her. He was standing alongside a black Mercedes saloon, the name on the small plaque that he held in his hand read, Cunningham. Annabelle got in, and a moment later the Mercedes pulled away from the kerb.
Just before six o’clock, Guy Roberts arrived at Belgrave Mews to collect LJ and Annabelle, and to take them to the hospital. They settled into the rear seat of the Mercedes, and were driven away. At the end of the road the Mercedes had to squeeze past a white van coming from the other direction, with the words Emergency Drainage & Sewerage Engineers written down the side in bold black lettering. It drove slowly to the other end of the Mews, and parked in the vacant space that Roberts had just left.
Two men in their late twenties got out of the van, both were wearing pristine blue overalls, and white hardhats of the type worn on building sites. They went straight to a manhole cover that was located a few feet away in the middle of the pavement. Lifting the heavy metal plate off, they placed it to one side, and then erected a portable safety barrier around the hole, and then walked back to the rear of the van.
After five minutes, the one whose name was Dean Slater went along the path that led around to the back of the elegant Georgian building, and the rear courtyards. Opening a gate in the wall, he walked on ageing flagstones, which led to the backdoor of LJ’s ground floor garden apartment.
The mortise lock gave in easily to Slater’s experienced touch, and a moment later he was stood in the middle of the kitchen. The state of the art alarm system that had been fitted remained silent. LJ, had once again forgotten to activate it in his haste to leave earlier. He went through the hall to the front door; his eyes darting into the rooms on either side, familiarising himself with the layout. Slater opened the heavy door, and Sean Black came up the front steps to join him in the hallway.
They worked quickly and methodically through all of the rooms in LJ’s apartment, searching every drawer with meticulous care, systematically removing books off of shelves, and then replacing them diligently in exactly the same position as they had been taken from. Every painting including the large portrait of Winston Churchill hanging over the fireplace was lifted in one corner, in their search for a safe, but one wasn’t found.
Finally, Slater said, “We’re wasting our time, the briefcase isn’t here.”
They went through every room again, checking that they hadn’t left anything out of place. Slater and Black prided themselves on being professionals. They went to great lengths to ensure that every room looked exactly the same as it had done before they had entered it. Slater had placed tiny cameras and microphones in the study, living room and was just finishing in the kitchen when Black walked in.
“Why are you bugging the place, that wasn’t what we were asked to do?”
“So it wasn’t part of the brief. That’s no reason why we shouldn’t show a little initiative is it? Anyway, we might see or hear something to our advantage, and that’ll mean a bonus on top of what we’re getting already.”
“Slater, have you forgotten who owns this place? Listen this bloke was with MI5, he’s not one of your ordinary everyday spooks, you know. This one is still involved in that sort of stuff at the highest level, and we were definitely warned not to take any risks that could make him suspicious. Remember?”
“Black, you really are like an old woman. Are you forgetting who is paying us? Hugo Malakoff, and you’d better believe me mate, when I tell you that this French dude is not someone you mess around with, right. He wants fast action on this one, and no pussying around, that’s what the man said. I know what he’s capable of, and you don’t want to upset this guy. Now let’s get the hell out of here, and dump that van, before some nosy git gets suspicious, and rings the number on the side that doesn’t exist. Someone will almost certainly have made a note of it being parked here, they always do in these sort of areas. I think we’ll swap it for something a little more our style, Black, say a Ferrari preferably or perhaps we’ll even make do with an Aston Martin, who knows. Then we’ll go get ourselves one of Gino’s special pizzas to take back to the lockup.”
“Then what?” asked Black.
“Then we wait, Black. And when this Levenson whatever his name is and the girl return, well, then we can settle down to a little night time eavesdropping and hopefully learn something to Mr Malakoff’s advantage.”
“He looks so dreadful, with all of those tubes stuck in his body.” Annabelle Cunningham stood beside her father’s hospital bed stroking his hair with tears in her eyes. LJ, who had been standing by the door, came over, and put a fatherly arm around her shoulders. The door opened, and the consultant who LJ had seen on his last visit, breezed into the room with two young white-coated doctors following.
After introducing himself, he proceeded to examine Nathan, at the same time he gently explained to Annabelle just how serious her father’s injuries were, but at the same time, also reassured her that his chances of pulling through were now much more favourable. When he’d left, Annabelle slumped down in a nearby chair, she looked tired, and had dark circles under her eyes. She looked up at LJ, and tried a smile that failed miserably.
“You look absolutely bushed my dear. Why not get a good night’s rest at the apartment, and then I’ll have young Roberts bring you back here first thing tomorrow morning.” She was going to protest, but was far too tired, and gave in.
As they drove away from the hospital Annabelle said, “You’re very kind. But I need to know exactly what happened, can you tell me?”
“Okay, well from what the witnesses have told the police, Nathan was at a level crossing, the traffic lights changed to red, and he simply stepped off the pavement. Was half way across the road when a BMW saloon car came from the right and hit him. According to the lady who called for the ambulance, the driver of the car then accelerated off up the street, and disappeared into the mid morning traffic.”
“What a bloody cowardly callous bastard.” The sobs had gone, and had been replaced by a steely hardness to her voice now. “I mean, here we have a man whose reflexes and eyesight are as sharp as anyone half his age. He would not simply walk out in front of a car, he just wouldn’t. I really can’t believe it, there must be more to this than we know LJ?”
“I know, and that’s why I’ve got my best people looking in to it, and why the police are treating it as attempted murder, and not simply another hit and run incident.” They travelled the rest of the short journey in silence.
They arrived back at Belgrave Mews just before ninefifteen. To be greeted by a police patrol car parked outside of the apartment. Guy Roberts stopped the Mercedes a short distance along the road. LJ walked back towards the two waiting uniformed officers. He talked briefly with them on the front steps, before going up, and opening the front door. In the hallway one of the officers outlined the alleged events that had led to them being called to the scene.
“Apparently sir, there was a white van parked outside your flat with two white males inside it. One of your neighbours became suspicious when one of the men disappeared around to the rear of the properties, and then the other one was seen going up your steps at the front a moment later. The lady who witnessed this then tried to telephone the number on the side of the van to find out what the problem was with the drains. It turned out to be a fake number, so she decided to call us and report it. We arrived fifteen minutes later, but I’m afraid the van had already gone.” “I see, all very strange then. Well, we’d better go and have a look round the place, I suppose.”