“There’s no lock,” she whispered. “I don’t want them waking up and walking in.”
“They didn’t see me come back,” Frisby said, by way of reassuring her. He lifted the side of the covers and leered, although he believed it was a grin. “It’s nice and warm.”
Susan dithered at the side of the bed. “I’ve never done this before.”
“Nor have I,” Frisby said. “Not with you, anyway.”
“Oh, thanks.” Susan sat on the edge. “You go to bed with all the people you’re supposed to be watching, do you?”
“No way. Some of them are blokes.”
They both smiled awkwardly. Frisby held out his hand. Susan took it.
“It’s not too late to change your mind,” he told her, kissing her hand. “I don’t want to.”
“Thank Christ for that,” he grunted. “Come here...” He drew her under the covers, his hands everywhere at once. “You’re driving me nuts...”
20
Frank Shrapnel walked into Larry’s bedroom at the safe house and found DI Falcon turning out the contents of the drawers and sorting through Larry’s belongings. Shrapnel stood back from the doorway a moment; he had a feeling he wasn’t catching Falcon doing anything he hadn’t been told to do. There was nothing furtive about the way he was tossing that room.
“What’s all this about?” Shrapnel said lamely. “Larry’s with the Guv’nor this morning.”
“Yeah, I know.” Falcon paused with his hand in a drawer. “Mac said to give his room a thorough once over...” He picked up a camomile tea box and flipped open the lid. He sniffed. “Bloody hell!” He stared at Shrapnel. “Do you know what this is?”
Shrapnel cocked his head to read the box.
“High-grade marijuana,” Falcon said. “Jackson must be out of his head.”
Shrapnel looked profoundly shocked. And worried. Later, when a certain amount of dust had settled, DCI McKinnes explained the new situation. He delivered the explanation in the Superintendent’s office at St. John’s Row station, pacing back and forward in front of the Superintendent as he spoke, puffing hard on his cigarette.
“He admits he went to the Hyde Park Hotel, and he admits he went to the bloody opera with the women. I think he got it on with the Spanish bird.”
“The ruddy idiot.” The Superintendent was white-lipped, imagining he could already feel waves of repercussion. “This is getting out of hand. It’s insanity.”
“Unbelievable,” McKinnes agreed. “I don’t know what the hell he thought he was trying to do.”
“Whatever, Mac — get rid of him.”
McKinnes stopped pacing.
“No can do,” he said, his voice rich with regret. “I need the bugger. And I reckon Myers is going to need Jackson to get his money.” He spread his hands. “Give me audio on the place. Give me surveillance. Let’s wire the prat up.”
The Superintendent stared. “Are you crazy? Bloody Jackson’s screwed up not just once but... Listen, if we don’t watch it, he’s going to take us both down.”
McKinnes stubbed out his cigarette and lit another one.
“I got down on my sodding knees for this,” he said, “and I’ll go down on them again. I won’t let Jackson foul up, I promise you. Just let me finish what I started. I’ll be right here...” He tapped his shoulder. “You know why I want Eddie Myers.”
“You’ve already got him, Mac.”
“No!” McKinnes said it vehemently, almost glaring at the Superintendent. “No, I haven’t. Not all of him. But I will have.” He looked straight at the Superintendent and pointedly tapped his shoulder again. “Because I’ll be right there... Okay?”
Ten minutes later McKinnes was marching along the corridor with Larry beside him. DC Summers, running as usual, caught up with them by the lift.
“Boss,” he panted. “Sydney Jefferson’s downstairs.”
“He can wait.”
Summers melted away. McKinnes pressed the lift button. He and Larry waited. Larry was partly in the picture, far enough to know he was in the kind of trouble that did not easily go away. He also knew, without being told, that Colin Frisby was an element in his predicament. One look at Frisby’s devious mug in the operations room had made it crystal clear.
“You must never coerce,” McKinnes said now, keeping it strictly business. “You just listen and ask pertinent questions, but do not encourage or make suggestions about any part of the robbery to Myers. Any unrecorded information you are privy to can go against you. You must at no time appear to aid or give incitement to any illegal activity. You taking this in?”
“Yes, Mac.” The lift arrived. Larry got in. “Ah, about everything... I’m sorry, I want to—”
“All I want is Myers, son. I put myself right in front of the firing squad keeping you on this.” McKinnes pointed straight up. “Get up there! And get your sodding head straightened out!”
The lift door closed. McKinnes turned along the corridor and saw Sydney Jefferson being shown into an interview room by DC Summers. When Jefferson saw McKinnes striding toward them he stopped in the doorway.
“Chief Inspector McKinnes,” he called, “I’ve been waiting for over an hour. It is my right to have access to my client—”
“Is it?” McKinnes didn’t break step. “He can’t just hop on a bus, you know. It takes a lot of organization. Just have patience. Myers’ll be here.”
McKinnes strode on past. Jefferson went into the interview room and sat down. As Summers came out McKinnes gestured to him. He ran to catch up.
“Search Jefferson,” McKinnes said grimly. “Down to his Y-fronts if necessary.”
Upstairs in the Radio Control Division a departmental technician gave Larry rudimentary instructions in the deployment of bugs and body wires. On a trestle table in front of them was an open briefcase with plastic foam compartments. Beside it were a number of miniature receivers, several two-way bugs and a pair of radio microphones. Two of the department’s specialists hovered nearby, watching the tackle on the table like hard-eyed mother swans keeping an eye on their young.
“Try not to touch the heads,” the technician said, pointing to the radio mikes. “They’re very delicate. This one you use for outside work only, it’s got a good wide radius. This is the internal one, it’s good for two miles, then it distorts. Tape it to your chest or just here...” He pointed to his armpit. “Now, every time you set yourself up for the day, check with this.” He held up a small black box fitted with a dial indicator. “If the needle remains between these two points, you’re on air.”
Larry nodded, taking it all in, trying to be a professional in the teeth of his anxieties; after today’s events, he couldn’t shake a gnawing suspicion that the alterations to his life — so sudden and so many — had plunged him into bad currents.
“Do remember,” the technician said, packing the gear into the briefcase, “this is valuable equipment. Try not to damage any of it.”
“I’ll do my best,” Larry promised.
I’ll maybe even do better than that. He had to motivate himself. If he could make this phase of the operation work without confusion, the prestige might rub out some of the black marks that had accumulated against him.
Two floors below, meanwhile, DCI McKinnes and the Superintendent were looking at a street map.
“I’ll need men across the road,” McKinnes said. “We’re sorting a good surveillance flat and a surveillance vehicle. The entire flat will be wired and—”