"The white van hired to collect the drugs: what if that van was driven by Adrian Summers to Honey Farm? We've so far not found any trace of the drugs: what if they were taken there, straight from Gatwick, and the directions were for him to find it? The van is then emptied and driven back to London by Summers. By this time, the stuff from that glove compartment has been put into the Mitsubishi: this includes the directions, money, and maybe one box of drugs—for sales purposes, you know? Fentanyl is not a common street trader's drug, right?" Anna fumbled with her array of papers. "This would place Fitzpatrick at the farmhouse when Julius D'Anton is sniffing around the cottage, trying
to find some antiques. He takes advantage of the jeep sitting there and nicks it. On board he has, as you suggested, the box of drugs."
The desk phone rang. Langton picked it up, then switched it to speakerphone. Phil, who had been sent to Chelsea harbor with two other officers from the team, was now able to verify that the boat was occupied by a young blond guy, identified as Adrian Summers. There was no sign of Fitzpatrick, or the children, but the harbormaster said he had seen two small boys on deck two days ago. As the call continued, with Phil obviously somewhere he could monitor the boat, he swore. Walking along the harbor was the au pair, carrying two bags of groceries.
Langton gave out the order to maintain surveillance, and not to approach the boat. He was silent for a few moments before asking Anna to take him through exactly what had happened on her first visit to the farm. She described how they had been lost, so had stopped at the small cottage and spoken to the elderly woman who had directed them to the farm. They had found Honour around the back of the house, tending to the henhouse. Anna went on to explain about the painting of the boat that was subsequently removed.
She took out a map and indicated the route Julia Brandon had taken on her last journey, from Wimbledon out to the A3 and then a loop, as if going back to the M40. "What if she knew she was being followed and tried to throw off the surveillance vehicle? They kept on saying she was driving at a reckless speed; what if she was trying to head toward Brighton, and the boat?"
Langton stood up. They had enough supposition, he said; now they had to act on the possibility that they had their man cornered. If he attempted to withdraw any of the money that he had forced Rushton to transfer for him, they could track him. So far there had been no withdrawals, and still no sighting of him, so where was he?
As they went down in the lift together, he smiled at her, and touched the nape of her neck. "Good work, little one. You are working on the adrenaline rush. I know just what it feels like."The touch of his fingers to her neck sent shock waves through her, but she said nothing. He was right, she was buzzing.
She turned to him. "They searched the farm, right? Found nothing. If Honour was tipped off by my visit, enough to remove the painting, then she would also know enough to be wary about the drugs. I think they were stashed in the henhouse."
They were heading toward the patrol car, when Anna stopped in her tracks. "She was very relaxed when the search went down—because she knew we'd find nothing." She looked up at him. "We never searched the cottage, did we! The old lady said it had been refurbished, with all mod cons. She could be connected—I mean, she could have tipped Honour off about me making inquiries, which was why she was locking up the henhouse."
Anna was rubbing her head so that her hair stood up on end, as the sirens screamed and they sped across London. Langton turned around in the front seat and touched her knee. "Just relax. I agree with you. I think we've got Fitzpatrick cornered. Now we bring in Honour and Damien Nolan."