“This is costing, Mac.” The Superintendent’s faraway look had been there since McKinnes came back with the map. “I had to put it before Fretlow, and he had to take it even higher. My budget’s wiped out.”
“Are you saying I can’t go on?”
The Superintendent looked cagey. The whole truth about his negotiations with the brass would not be forthcoming.
“They want — and I knew this would come up — they want Myers taken to the Reading Secure Unit.”
“So I lose him?” McKinnes didn’t hide his indignation. “Doesn’t matter that he’s planning a bloody robbery?”
“Oh, come on, now, Mac...”
“Jefferson says his girls are cleaning him out. He’s got to go for it.”
“We don’t know that for sure.” The Superintendent smiled sourly. “You just want him to.”
“You said it.” McKinnes glared at the window. “Five years I’ve waited for this.”
Twenty minutes later DI Shrapnel, DI Falcon, and DC Summers looked up from one of the desks in the incident room to face DCI McKinnes as he marched in. They looked sheepish.
“Frank,” McKinnes said, “I want Jefferson tipped off that Myers has just two more weeks in our custody. In the meantime we hold Myers here until I’ve got the safe house wired...” He stopped, taking in the group expression. “What’s up?”
Falcon held up a camomile tea box. “We found this in Jackson’s bedroom.”
McKinnes looked at the box with a so-what expression. Shrapnel put it down and held out a box of Black Magic chocolates.
“These were in the kitchen,” he said. “I can have the lab boys check them out. They could have drugs in them, I don’t know how the hell he got them in—”
“The chocolates were for my wife,” McKinnes snapped. The three detectives looked at each other. McKinnes snatched up a plastic bag from the tea box and sniffed it. He appeared to freeze.
“It’s marijuana,” Shrapnel said, pronouncing it mari-jewana.
“I know what it bloody is, Frank!”
Larry appeared. He was carrying a briefcase, gingerly, as if there were eggs in it.
“I’m all set to go back, Guv,” he said.
“Oh, are you?” McKinnes turned to him, holding up the bag of grass between finger and thumb. “What’s this, Jackson? It was found in your room at the safe house.”
Larry stared, his throat tightening. For the moment he couldn’t summon an excuse. He went on staring, his hopes of redemption melting. There was no way to avoid the obvious. His life was turning to shit.
Jefferson was tight-lipped with fury. His ratlike eyes were gray as flints. He had been searched, left waiting, and no one had listened to his clipped demands as to how long it would be before he had access to Von Joel. Then, just as he was about to really fly off the handle, the thud of footsteps heralded Von Joel’s arrival. Two uniformed officers remained in the room throughout the short interview. Jefferson had demanded the meeting as his client’s right. Von Joel, as agreed, had signed over power of attorney to Jefferson, giving him access to Von Joel’s bank accounts. DI Falcon sat in on the meeting. In fact the room was so filled with bodies, it became stifling. Every single move that went between Von Joel and Jefferson was watched. Each document Von Joel was required to sign was checked carefully. The men watched and listened almost gleefully as Jefferson informed Von Joel that both his girlfriends were, as he had told McKinnes, cleaning him out. They had used his check cards, and spent thousands on a suite at the Hyde Park Hotel... Jefferson, however, appeared to the onlookers to be more worried about his own fees being met, and when they heard the amount due to him, the men exchanged shifty looks.
Von Joel’s appearance had slightly shocked Jefferson. He seemed quiet, exceptionally subdued. There was stubble on his chin, a scruffiness about him that Jefferson had never detected before, but he made no reference to the obvious discomfort of his client, and the fading bruises on his face. The cuffs were never removed, even when Von Joel signed the documents. Falcon noticed that Von Joel seemed almost about to crack up, especially when Jefferson repeated the amount of money the girls had got away with, and admitted that he was unsure how long he could continue taking care of Von Joel’s business transactions since Von Joel was broke.
Jefferson gave Von Joel a strange half smile. “The villa in Spain was bought in Lola’s name. Well, the little bird has it on the market, and there is nothing you or I can do about it. The Monterey was in the other girl’s name and that, too, is on the market. Again, as they have proof of ownership, I cannot stop the sale going ahead.”
Von Joel swore under his breath about cheating bitches, and kept his head bent down, as Jefferson checked over the papers, preparing to return them to his briefcase. The locks snapped shut.
“Any complaints? Food all right, is it? They’re getting your vitamins to you?”
Von Joel nodded, then sighed. “I am held in a shit hole, but apart from that I don’t have too many complaints. There’s no exercise area, and I’m getting sick. I need some fresh air. Can you arrange for me to have at least a walk? I’d like a run if possible. The place is close to Regent’s Park, somebody must be able to arrange it. Can you talk to McKinnes? I’m going crazy in that dump.”
Jefferson nodded, said he would do whatever was possible, but he doubted if Von Joel would be allowed out for a morning jog. He gave a twisted smile. Falcon couldn’t help but smile as well; bloody nerve of Von Joel, asking to go friggin’ joggin’, next it would be a night out at the theater.
The meeting lasted no longer than fifteen minutes. A report was sent back to McKinnes that nothing unforeseen had happened, apart from Von Joel looking like hell, and obviously being depressed. The news of Von Joel’s girlfriends stitching him up good and well traveled fast, and everyone couldn’t help but laugh. So much for the Super Grass, his own little darlin’s were rippin’ him off, and his brief was doing an even better job.
McKinnes had a few moments with Jefferson, and he almost laughed in Jefferson’s face when he passed on Von Joel’s request that he be allowed to go running or walking to get some fresh air. Jefferson carefully made no reference to the fact that Von Joel had let slip the location — that he was being held within the vicinity of Regent’s Park. McKinnes almost told Jefferson to piss off, but then excused himself, and walked out into the corridor. Von Joel wanted a run, did he? Or was he already planning to do a runner? Maybe they should let out the leash a little bit more. If they kept an eye on him, maybe, as McKinnes had said, he’d give them a lead.
After seeing Von Joel at the police station, Sydney Jefferson called on Lola and Charlotte at the Hyde Park Hotel. Their business was brief, hardly more than an update, concluding with Jefferson’s account of the meeting at St. John’s Row station. As he was preparing to leave Lola asked him if Von Joel had asked after his girls.
“Every word we said was monitored. And he’s not supposed to be enamored of the situation, is he?” Jefferson smiled. “You’re taking him to the cleaners, remember?” He picked up his attaché case, went to the door and opened it. “I’ll contact you here as soon as I get a result.”
“But you haven’t found out where they’re keeping him,” Lola said.
“I did my best,” Jefferson replied testily. “All I know is what I told you, he’s somewhere close to Regent’s Park. And McKinnes agreed that he could exercise early each morning.” He looked from one girl to the other. “The rest will be up to you.”
Early that evening Larry fitted bugs in the safe house, under the moody eye of Frank Shrapnel. He worked his way along to the kitchen, taking his cues from sketchy notes he had made at the station. Throughout the flat he had positioned each bug so that its pattern of receptivity overlapped that of at least one other bug in the vicinity. He wore an earpiece as he worked, to monitor signal strength and pick up any howl that might result from putting bugs too close to one another. He walked slowly around the kitchen with the last-but-one device, a transceiver the size of a ten-pence piece, deciding where to put it.