‘Christ! Do you think she planted a fuckin’ bomb?’ Blondie asked.
Maynard shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t lose sight of her in Selfridges. She was only carrying a shoulder bag and it never moved from her shoulder. If she didn’t know she was being tailed, she certainly made it tough for us to follow her.’
Stanley banged his fist against the underground map on the wall. ‘Fuck knows where she might get off or where she’s going. Crowley’s going to be livid when he finds out we lost her!’
It had been another long day for Jane. She’d cleared out the fridge and, with the day stretching ahead of her and still unable to leave the flat, she’d made a list of groceries that she’d have to ask one of the officers to get for her. The highlight of the morning had been finding one of Pearl’s herbal teabags at the back of a drawer. It was mid-afternoon and she was busy cleaning the bath when the phone rang, making her jump. It was Church.
‘Have you eaten?’ he asked.
‘No, I don’t actually have anything in the flat and it’s a bit early for supper.’
‘I’ll come around at six with fish and chips,’ he said and put the phone down.
He could have at least asked what I wanted, she thought. She hoped he didn’t want to go over everything that had happened again as she was sick of repeating herself. She finished the housework and put two plates in the oven to warm. She thought about the fish and chips that Dexter had bought for their first dinner. Was DCI Church going to go to the same well-known fish and chip shop in Ladbroke Grove?
At six on the dot the doorbell rang. Jane checked through the bedroom window that it was Church, and let him in. Unlike most of her visitors, Church demonstrated his fitness by moving up the stairs two or three at a time, carrying his newspaper wrapped parcel of chips.
‘I’ve got the plates warming,’ Jane said, showing him into the kitchen.
‘Never mind plates. Always eat fish and chips out of the newspaper.’ He plonked the paper down on the kitchen counter and started eating.
‘First,’ he went on, ‘the bad news… and it’s not about you, for a change. Natalie went sick from work. Stanley and Maynard tailed and lost her in Oxford Street after she’d been into Selfridges. Thankfully she didn’t plant a bomb, but she could have been doing a recce, looking for a suitable target.’
‘If she knows she’s being watched then she’ll have told the ASU. They’ll all do a runner and we’ll never find them.’
‘Stanley was pretty sure she didn’t know she was being followed, plus she did a grocery shop the previous evening. Our guys are still watching her flat, but she hasn’t returned home yet… In fact, we don’t know where she is. My guess is the ASU is planning something big and she’s gone to meet up with them… thus her use of counter-surveillance tactics.’
‘How did Crowley take it?’
‘Do you really need to ask or want to know? The good news is we have more information about Natalie Wilde. She’s of Irish Catholic descent and moved to England from Belfast with her parents when she was six years old. It was a time when sectarian tensions were rising thanks to widespread discrimination and resentment. Her father managed his own small business and they were financially secure, although by no means wealthy. She is their only daughter and was well-educated at an established grammar school.’
Jane made a pot of tea. ‘Why did she become a sleeper for the IRA?’
‘In May 1964 her father returned to Belfast for his eldest brother’s funeral. There was a gun battle between the UVF and the army, and he was killed in the crossfire. It isn’t clear if the shooter was UVF or a British soldier. Natalie was only sixteen at the time and the loss of her father was undoubtedly traumatic. Not long after that, her mother committed suicide… it would seem those two incidents in her life were the catalyst and turning point…’
‘So she must have already been recruited as a sleeper when she joined the Met?’
Church nodded and continued to eat the remainder of his fish and chips at an incredibly fast rate. Jane found them rather greasy and soggy.
Jane was shocked at the thought. ‘It’s frightening. If she hadn’t caused a scene and been kicked out of Hendon, she could have by now made detective…’
‘Yep, and the inside information she could have given the IRA would be immense. We can only surmise that she became involved thanks to her cousin, who we now know to be an active member of the IRA, and it may have been as far back as her father’s death that she became a sleeper. She had all those jobs she told you about before she joined as a trainee at the bank — have you got any sugar?’
Jane got off the stool and found the sugar. Church added three spoonfuls to his tea before continuing.
‘Natalie was a cashier at the bank — that’s a very useful position for an underground organisation. She could be used by the ASU to pass communications whilst her contact was cashing cheques, for example. But as yet we have not seen anything subversive or suspicious at the bank.’
Jane sighed. ‘She may have told the truth about working at the bank, but I suspect what she told me about working on a cruise ship and her cordon bleu course was all lies.’
‘Probably.’ Church crumpled up the greasy newspaper that had contained his fish and chips. ‘I want you at the Yard in the morning for an 11 a.m. briefing in the main conference hall. Go to Crowley’s office first at half ten, OK?’
Jane nodded. ‘What’s it about, sir?’
‘You’ll find out when you get there… Nothing to worry about. See you in the morning.’ He finished his tea and left.
Crowley seemed to be in a permanent bad mood these days. As Jane sat on the edge of the chair in front of his desk, forcing herself to maintain eye contact, she tried to forget that she was usually the cause of it.
‘I believe DCI Church informed you of his squad’s fuck-up yesterday,’ he said sharply.
‘Yes, sir. Have they found Natalie yet?’
‘No they haven’t… but we’d all better pray they do — and soon!’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘We ran some checks at St Thomas’ hospital regarding births on the day you say Natalie Wilde was there. We spoke with the four women who had a baby and not one of them knew her. There were two on the previous day but ditto, and the staff couldn’t recall anyone visiting the maternity ward who fitted Natalie’s description.’
He opened a thick file on his desk. ‘These are surveillance photographs of people passing her flat and during her time at the bank the day she went sick. We have not had any recognition from our team, but they photographed everyone entering and leaving the bank… Have a look through them and see if you recognise any one.’
Jane looked through the stack of photographs but eventually shook her head and said she did not know or recognise any one.
‘Do you have enough evidence to arrest her?’
‘If I knew where she bloody well was, then yes… but what we don’t want to do is tip off her contacts. If we find her we could grab her off the street, or even at her flat, but that might jeopardise our tracking down who she’s working with. So, we’re waiting in the hope we find her or she returns to her flat.’
Crowley lit a cigarette, stood up and, checking his watch, gestured for Jane to accompany him. ‘Come on, time to go.’
Jane was surprised at just how many officers were attached to the surveillance operation as various uniformed, plain-clothes and undercover officers began filtering into the conference hall. On the small, raised podium, there was a large noticeboard covered with all the surveillance photographs taken outside the Belsize Park flat and the bank, which Jane had already seen. There were also numerous shots of the dress hire property, and the hospital reception. A lot of work had been done to cover Natalie’s every move. As Jane tried to slip into a seat at the back of the room Crowley called out loudly to her.