I’d spent more than enough time cooped up recently so I stayed in the diner and drank the coffee standing at the counter. I glanced at a copy of a morning paper that someone had left there, then strolled back to the car. I looked around as I walked. The parking lot was well screened from the road. No one would be able to see I was there. There were exits in both directions. It wasn’t too far from the industrial unit in case I got word from Fothergill that something had kicked off and he needed me back there in a hurry. And I could recline my seat, lie back, and be effectively invisible. All things considered, it was as good a place as any to grab forty winks.
Sleep came to me quickly, but it was snatched away again just as fast. The peace was shattered by compressed air blasting out of a truck’s braking system, somewhere very close to my head. I woke with a start and checked my watch. It was dead on noon. I’d been asleep for two and a half hours. Not long by anyone’s standards. I was tempted to shut my eyes again, but I knew there was no point. I only had a quarter of an hour before I’d need to wake up anyway, to get back in time to relieve Fothergill. I dozed uneasily for another five minutes, then forced myself to sit up and take stock. The thought of another cappuccino was very appealing. I was starting to get hungry, too. But in the end I decided against dodging back into the diner. The smarter option was just to get on the road right away. Arriving anywhere at a round half hour always seems contrived and suspicious to me.
I tried to get hold of Fothergill to let him know I’d be there early, but each time I called I was diverted to his voice mail. He was still on the phone when I pulled up opposite him, at twelve seventeen. The moment he saw me he dropped his other conversation and called me straight back. He spoke very slowly and made a real point of telling me just how little had happened, describing every mundane and irrelevant aspect in exaggerated detail. And while he didn’t say it in words, his tone made it clear he thought we were wasting our time. I was starting to worry he was right. Then movement caught my eye. From across the street. The left-hand roll-up door was beginning to open.
“Quick,” I said. “The grabber. Get the frequency.”
“I’m on it,” Fothergill said. “Wait a minute. There’s no reading. Nothing’s showing. We’ll have to wait till it closes again.”
The door slowly cranked its way up to the top of the frame. Nothing else happened for a moment, then a car rolled through the opening. A dark blue Cadillac. It would be too much to swallow for that to be a coincidence, but I checked the license plate anyway. Then there was no doubt. It was the one Fothergill had been following after it left the Commissariat, yesterday. Which was a relief. It meant we were on the right track, after all.
“I’m trying again,” Fothergill said, as the door reversed its direction. “No. There’s no signal. I’m not picking up a thing.”
I got a better look at the Cadillac as it turned and passed in front of me. There were three people inside it. The guy who’d done all the talking at the club was driving. The woman who’d strip-searched me was sitting in the front, next to him. And a guy I’d never seen before was lounging lazily around in the back.
“They can’t have been using a remote, after all,” Fothergill said. “It must have been a regular switch. Someone must have opened it from the inside. And closed it again.”
I didn’t reply.
“Problem is, what do we do now?” Fothergill said.
I stayed silent.
“Maybe it’s time for a change of plan,” Fothergill said. “I think we should head back to Chicago after all. There’s still plenty of time.”
“For what?” I said.
“Taking them at the Commissariat. Your rendezvous isn’t until four fifteen.”
“I told you. I don’t want to take them, anywhere. Not yet, anyway. There’ll be time for that, later.”
“But if we could catch one of them, think of the leverage it would give us over London. They’d have to send a team, then. Quick results are good news, remember, and that’s just what you need right now.”
I didn’t respond.
“David, we need to rethink,” he said. “To adapt. To view this as an advantage, not a setback. ’Cause now, we know for sure where the key players are going to be. And when. Surprise would be on our side. And the environment there is favorable to us. It’s a far more viable option than staying here and banging our heads against the wall.”
“No,” I said, after a moment’s thought. “I’m going to find a way into the place. I need to see inside.”
“But how?” he said. “You were right. Those roll-ups were the best option. Maybe if we at least wait, those guys will use a remote on their way back in. We could trying grabbing the frequency again then.”
“No. That would be too late. I need time to look around. Properly. Without them being there.”
“I don’t see how that’s possible, David. We’re out of options. Face it. This was a good idea, but it just hasn’t panned out. We should head back to the city.”
“Rubbish,” I said, slipping the car back into gear. “There are always options. And I’m going to put one into play right now.”
“Whoa, wait,” he said. “What is it? What are you going to do?”
“Something you suggested yourself,” I said. “Or a version of it, anyway.”
The high-tech solution had failed, but I wasn’t too concerned. I knew it wouldn’t be hard to find something to replace it with. In the end, it took less than four minutes. One minute to drive to the warehouses. One second to open my door. Another second to scoop up a brick from the dozens that lay abandoned in the gutter. And two minutes to retrace my steps, call Fothergill, and tell him to keep his eyes peeled. I figured that if he was still there, he might as well be useful and watch my back.
I pulled the car up onto the sidewalk and parked nice and close in front of the green door. Then I tried the handle, just in case, but predictably the place was locked. I looked across at the factories. Fothergill was there, behind the wheel of the Ford, fiddling with his phone as usual. He saw me and nodded. No one else was watching. So I took out my Beretta with my right hand. Gripped the brick with my left. And swung it into the wooden surface. Hard. Two inches above the lock. End-on, to concentrate the force. The frame gave way, splitting all the way from top to bottom. The loose piece fell back into the corridor, bounced off the wall, and I dived clean through the gap before it had time to hit the floor.
The corridor ran the full width of the building. Four doors led off the stretch to the right. All were closed, and the passage ended with a blank, whitewashed brick wall. The stretch to the left was identical, except it ended with a double door. It was gray metal. A flight of stone steps stretched up straight ahead of me. A single light flickered at the top. I went up, two at a time. Turned left at the top. And stopped in front of a double doorway. I listened. There was no sound from inside, so I smashed my foot into the join between the two doors. I tossed the brick through the gap they left and dodged to the side. I heard a crash as it landed, but there was no other reaction. I waited another moment, then stepped into the room, gun raised. The space was large. Twenty feet by forty. And it was deserted. There was no furniture, but five sleeping bags were lying on the floor. Four were lined up together at the left-hand side of the room, parallel with the wall. The other was on its own on the right, facing the opposite way. Each had a black leather carryall sitting tidily at its foot. I unzipped the nearest one but it was just full of clothes—two pairs of jeans, a hoodie, and some underwear—so I closed it, picked up my brick, and moved on.