‘It’s that easy, is it?’
Morris tapped the side of his nose. ‘It is if you know what you’re doing. I used to install them, and nine times out of ten the factory setting is still there. Even if it’s not.?.?.’ He shrugged.
Nightingale’s coffee arrived.
‘By the way, have you got my cash?’ asked Morris.
Nightingale sighed, took out his envelope of cash and counted out ten fifty-pound notes.
‘Petrol?’ said Morris.
Shaking his head, Nightingale sighed again and then handed over another fifty-pound note.
Morris grinned and pocketed the money. ‘You’re a prince among men,’ he said. ‘Right, how are we going to do this?’
‘I’ll leave my car here,’ said Nightingale. ‘We take your car to the house, you get me in, then you shove off back to London.’
‘You’re staying?’
‘That’s the plan. And when I’m done I’ll come back here and pick up my car.’
‘What are you up to, Jack?’
‘It’s complicated,’ said Nightingale.
‘You’re not robbing the place, I hope.’
‘If anything it’s the opposite. He’s stolen from me.’
‘So we’re on the side of law and order?’
‘Not exactly,’ said Nightingale. He finished his coffee and patted Morris on the back. ‘Let’s go.’
Morris had parked his Saab behind the pub. ‘I need to get something from my car,’ said Nightingale. He went around to the MGB and retrieved the Taurus and the box of ammunition from the glove compartment. He put the gun in his right coat pocket and the cartridges in the left. They were so heavy that they pulled the coat down, so he took it off, rolled it up and carried it. He figured that Morris wouldn’t be as amenable if he knew that Nightingale was carrying a gun.
The Saab pulled up next to the MGB and Nightingale climbed into the passenger seat then sat with the coat on his lap. ‘Not cold?’ asked Morris.
‘Adrenaline,’ said Nightingale. He felt the gun shift and held the coat tighter.
‘Do you want me to park on the road or what?’
‘Let’s just drive straight up to the house,’ said Nightingale. ‘I know the guy so just in case there’s somebody inside I’ll ring the bell. If there is someone there I’ll spin them a line and we’ll get the hell out of Dodge.’
‘You said the place was empty.’
‘I said the guy isn’t there. He’s in London. And as far as I know he lives alone. But there’s a chance he has a housekeeper or something.’
‘And if he has, then what?’
‘Then we have a rethink. But there’s no point in counting chickens.’
Morris turned off the road and pulled up in front of the house. He stayed in the car while Nightingale got out. Nightingale kept a tight hold on his coat as he walked up to the front door. He pressed the doorbell twice but no one answered. He turned and gave Morris a thumbs up.
Morris joined him at the front door, carrying a black gym bag with a Nike swoosh across the side.
‘How do you want to play this?’ asked Nightingale.
‘I’ll go in through the back,’ said Morris. He lifted the bag. ‘I’ve got the gear to get through most locks here but if all else fails I’ll go through a window. You’ll hear the alarm start to beep inside once the sensors kick off but I’ll get straight to the console and get it sorted.’
‘Go for it,’ said Nightingale. ‘If there’s a problem I’ll call you.’
Morris nodded and walked around the side of the house. Nightingale unrolled his coat, put it on, then lit a cigarette. He was halfway through it when he heard a beeping sound from the hallway. Then he heard footsteps hurrying across a wooden floor. The beeping continued and Nightingale pulled a face as he anticipated the burglar alarm bursting into life. There was a muffled curse from the other side of the door and then the sound of something metallic hitting the floor, another curse followed and then the beeping stopped. Nightingale flicked what was left of his cigarette across the lawn. The front door opened and Morris stood aside to let Nightingale in.
‘Any problems?’ he asked.
Morris gestured at a control panel on the wall by the stairs. The panel had been opened to expose the circuitry. ‘They’d removed the factory settings so it took me a bit longer than usual, but all good. In fact I’ve added another code so you can come back whenever you want. Just key in four nines and Robert’s your father’s brother.’ He went over to the console and began to reattach the cover.
‘I doubt that I’ll be back,’ said Nightingale. ‘But thanks.’ To the right was a huge open-plan room with exposed beams high overhead and a brick fireplace. ‘How did you get in?’
‘Kitchen door. It wasn’t bolted and I didn’t damage the lock. You can lock it from the inside and leave by the front door and no one will be the wiser. Or are you planning on staying until he gets here?’
‘Why do you say that?’
Morris finished fixing the burglar alarm console and picked up his holdall. ‘Let’s just say that either you’re very pleased to see me or that’s a gun in your pocket.’
Nightingale’s hand went instinctively to his pocket. The gun was weighing down his coat on that side. ‘Thanks for getting me in, Eddie. You can head off now.’
‘What’s going on, Jack?’
‘Just go, Eddie.’
‘I’ve known you a long time. Since you were a copper, remember? I know that you’re not a cop any more but you’ve always played by the rules. That’s why I put business your way. People trust you because they know you’re a straight shooter.’ He grinned. ‘Now isn’t that an unfortunate choice of words?’
‘This is personal, Eddie, and you don’t know the background.’
‘I know that guns don’t solve anything.’
‘I think the army might beg to differ.’
‘Yeah, but you’re not in the army. And you’re not a cop. You’re Joe Soap, just like the rest of us. And just carrying a firearm will get you ten years. And you pull the trigger in anger and they’ll throw away the key.’
‘I can’t believe you’re lecturing me on the law,’ said Nightingale. ‘It seems to be my day for receiving advice.’ He nodded at the door. ‘I know what I’m doing, Eddie. I’ll be fine.’
Morris shrugged, clearly not convinced. He forced a smile and headed out of the door. Nightingale closed it and waited until he heard the Saab drive away before taking out the gun and clicking the safety off.
63
Nightingale walked up the stairs, the gun in his hand. At the top of the stairs was a hallway off which there were four doors. One was to a wet room, all grey marble, stainless steel and glass. Next to it was a bedroom with a Japanese theme; it contained a futon bed, black lacquered chests with brightly coloured birds on the sides, and a framed kimono on one wall. The door next to the Japanese bedroom was locked. Nightingale bent down and squinted through the keyhole but the room beyond was in darkness. He straightened up then stiffened as he heard a car horn. He hurried back into the Japanese room and carefully peered through the slatted wooden blinds, but the driveway was empty. The horn sounded again and he saw a white van in the road trying to overtake a Volvo towing a caravan.
Nightingale reached for his cigarettes but then realised that smoking in the house wouldn’t be a good idea. Fairchild was a cigar smoker but even so he’d probably smell the cigarette smoke as soon as he opened the front door. He went back to the landing. The final door led through to the master bedroom. This room had thick beams running overhead, a large picture window looking over the garden and a small orchard, a big-screen plasma television on one wall and a king-size bed with leopard-print duvet and pillows. To the right was a door leading to another bathroom; this one had a large roll-top bath with clawed feet. One wall was mirrored and Nightingale stared at his reflection. His hair was unkempt and his face looked strained. He tried smiling but it felt more like a snarl. ‘Are you looking at me?’ he said to his reflection in a passable attempt at a Robert de Niro impersonation, and took aim with the gun. ‘Because I don’t see anyone else standing here.’ He grinned and winced as he realised that he appeared even more manic.