A short while later Stanley received a call from the office about Wilde’s flat. He was informed that it was fully furnished and had only been rented in the past two months, for a six-month period, with the option to extend the lease. As Wilde had not made any contact regarding the extension of the lease it was possible it might become vacant. It would seem Natalie had lied to Jane about how long she had lived in and rented the premises.
DCI Church rang Jane to let her know that the observation on Natalie was up and running and she was currently at work.
‘She lied to you about how long she’s lived in that flat,’ he added. ‘And the phone-box witness has identified the same Hermès scarf that you did. Says she was mistaken about it being dogs on it. She also mentioned the suspect might have been wearing designer gloves and we wondered if you had seen—’
‘Were they Burberry?’ asked Jane. ‘At Fratelli’s, Natalie had a pair of Burberry gloves… she said a boyfriend gave them to her at Christmas.’
‘Yes, that corroborates our other witness’s description. The gloves and scarf are now crucial evidence, Jane, and you are a witness to the fact even if Natalie throws them away before we get to her. Things are moving along fast now. Are you all right?’
‘Yes, I’m fine… But being at home with nothing to do is hardly making the time pass.’
‘Just sit tight and keep calm. I will update you if and when there are any further developments. We’re taking it slowly in case she gets wind that we’re onto her.’
Jane replaced the receiver and went over to the ironing board. She slowly ironed Dexter’s clean T-shirt and folded it neatly, feeling mixed emotions about everything that had happened. She had really liked Natalie and enjoyed her company. She’d thought she’d at last found someone she could talk to and share her feelings with. She felt bad about poor Pearl and her stolen books, but it looked as if Natalie had stolen Jane’s trust. It hurt her deeply that she could have been taken in by someone so easily. She was now beginning to hate Natalie for all the lies and, above all, for the terrible devastation and loss of life caused by the bomb at Covent Garden.
Stanley was with a colleague at the window watching Natalie’s flat for visitors when, at one o’clock, he received a call from the other OP that Wilde had left the bank and travelled to North London, stopping at a supermarket. It didn’t look like she was planning on returning to the office. Although she had left work early, the trip to the shops suggested she would return home. A short while later she got out of a taxi, carrying a bag full of groceries, and went into her flat. There was a light knock on the door as DS Maynard waited to be let in to relieve the officer who was with Stanley.
Maynard removed his duffel coat and put down a black holdall. He sat down in the easy chair by the window. There was a small telescope set up, alongside a camera. Stanley’s roll-up cigarette stubs were piled high in an ashtray next to a dirty cup and saucer. Maynard pulled out a flask of tea and some sandwiches from his holdall, which he shared with Stanley. As they both settled down to watch Natalie’s flat, the phone rang with the information that Natalie had gone sick at work. She’d said she had flu, and that she wouldn’t be in tomorrow.
Hours later, Natalie was still indoors, no one had visited her and it seemed she wasn’t going out. Stanley had fallen asleep in the armchair and was snoring. Maynard nudged him and suggested he get off home for some kip. Stanley said he’d sleep in the flat owner’s bedroom and told Maynard to wake him if anything happened, but Natalie remained in her flat all night.
The following morning Blondie Dunston arrived to take over the surveillance from Maynard.
‘It’s quarter to nine so it doesn’t look like she’s going to work,’ Maynard said, putting on his duffel coat.
Blondie suddenly clocked Natalie leaving her flat. ‘Target’s on the move, Sarge.’
‘Shit. Stanley’s in the bedroom, go and wake him. I’ll stick with Natalie and call him on the radio with my location. You stay here and keep eyeball on Wilde’s flat.’ Maynard grabbed a covert radio and left.
Natalie walked to Hampstead underground station and bought a morning paper from the news stand. Maynard stayed a short distance behind her and radioed his location so Stanley could join him. Stanley was already out of the flat and quickly caught up with Maynard. They agreed that it was best for them to split up, but keep in radio contact, in case she saw them together and sussed they were Old Bill. Stanley said he’d follow Natalie first for a while and then call in Maynard to take over so as not to blow their cover.
Stanley had Natalie in sight as she boarded the southbound Northern Line. He kept his distance and got on the carriage behind the one she was in. Maynard was in the carriage behind Stanley. The train was busy as it was still the rush hour, but Stanley was able to position himself so he could see Natalie through the adjoining carriage window. She was looking around and he wondered if she was aware she was being followed. As the train stopped at Tottenham Court Road, Natalie jumped off at the last second, just before the doors closed. Stanley was quick to react and just managed to get off himself. He breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t turn round and see him. Perhaps she was just being surveillance conscious and wasn’t aware she was being followed.
Stanley looked for Maynard, but he hadn’t got off the train in time.
Stanley followed Natalie out of the station into Oxford Street. Shoppers and commuters thronged the street, and Natalie weaved in and out of his sight as she walked westwards. She’s well-trained, he thought to himself, but she didn’t look back, which made him think she was carrying out a standard IRA anti-surveillance routine rather than actively trying to lose a tail. He radioed Blondie and said he needed backup.
Just then, Stanley’s radio crackled into life. Maynard had just surfaced at Leicester Square.
‘Target’s heading on foot towards Oxford Circus,’ Stanley told him. ‘Get a cab.’
Maynard hailed a cab. When he got to Oxford Circus, he spotted Natalie on the other side of the street. He paid off the cab and took over the tail from Stanley, following her as she continued down Oxford Street.
‘She’s outside Selfridges. Have you got eyeball?’ he radioed to Stanley.
‘Not yet… I’ll make contact as soon as I see her.’ Stanley picked up his pace as Maynard came back on the radio.
‘She’s gone into Selfridges.’
Stanley’s stomach sank as he radioed back. ‘Shit. The IRA planted a bomb there last August, in the south-east corner… Don’t lose her, Maynard!’
On that occasion, the IRA had given a coded call to the press, the store had been evacuated and the bomb diffused by Dexter. Now, both officers were becoming very tense. There were large crowds of shoppers milling around. If their target was planting a bomb, they needed to contact the store’s security services — but first they needed to find Natalie. Stanley eased past the wandering shoppers, but there were so many different departments… He was still on the ground floor, passing the make-up and perfume counters, when he caught sight of Natalie’s reflection in one of the mirrors. She was moving fast.
‘Target eyeballed… she’s heading towards the south-west corner exit.’
Stanley picked up his pace, shoving shoppers aside, and ran out to the street. Maynard joined him and they looked around, desperately trying to sight Natalie. They breathed a sigh of relief when Blondie’s voice came over the radio saying he had eyeball on Natalie and she was heading down into Marble Arch underground station. They sprinted across the road, weaving in and out of the traffic, then down the stairs and escalator, splitting up to check both the east and west-bound platforms, but Natalie was gone. They had lost her. All three of them were gasping and Stanley had to bend over to catch his breath.