“So what happened, exactly?”
He continued to poke at the stone with his toecap. “I gave her breakfast in bed and told her to take her time getting up. When I left around nine, she was about to take a shower.”
“You left her alone in your house?”
“Sure. I trusted her.”
“Did she say anything about going to the beach alone?”
“Oh, yes. It was a beautiful day. She was going, with or without me.”
“She must have driven there,” Diamond said.
“Yes, her sports car was on my drive. And that’s about all I can tell you.” He rubbed his hands together, ready to move on to other matters.
“There is something else,” Diamond said. “Would you mind telling us how you actually spent the rest of the day?”
Barneston frowned, glared and then gave a hollow laugh. “You’re not asking me to account for my time?”
“You’ve got it in one, Jimmy.”
“You know what you can do.”
“Not until this is sorted,” Diamond said with a look as unrelenting as his voice. “Did you go into work?”
Barneston hesitated for a long time, perhaps to show dissent. Diamond’s eyes, unblinking, had never left his. Finally, he submitted. “I went to the nick and worked on the case.”
“Until when?”
“I don’t know. Late morning, early afternoon. I had a canteen lunch. Do you want to know if it was roast beef and two veg?”
“And then?”
“A stroll around the park.”
“Alone?”
Barneston’s face reddened. “I don’t have to take these innuendoes. Who do you think you’re questioning here?”
“Alone, then,” Diamond said. “How about the rest of the afternoon, Jimmy?”
“Didn’t you hear me? I’ve had enough of this crap.”
Hen put in gently, “He’s doing his job, Jimmy. He’s got a duty to ask.”
Making every word sound like an infliction, Barneston said, “I returned to my office for about an hour and finished the job I was on. Then I went home and looked at the cricket on TV. I guess it was about two-thirty when I left the nick. No, I didn’t make any phone calls, and nobody knocked on my door, so if you want to fit me up it’s perfectly feasible that I could have driven to Wightview Sands inside an hour, found Emma and strangled her.”
Hen said, “Jimmy, calm down.”
He carried on in the same embittered flow: “Of course, you have the minor problem of the motive-establishing how we fell out after a night together-but I guess that’s not beyond your fertile imagination.”
“Probably not,” Diamond said evenly, “but there is another problem. How would you drive two cars away from the scene? Hers hasn’t been seen since the murder.”
Barneston was silent while he played this over in his mind. After a longish interval he saw the point. “So you’re not about to caution me?” It was an attempt to recoup, a feeble joke.
Diamond indulged him with a grin.
Above them, the helicopter crossed so low that they saw the trees bowing in the down-draught.
Hen said, “Do you think they’ve spotted something?”
After the tension of the past few minutes it was a relief to go back inside the house and check developments. But nothing had developed. The Mariner had come and gone as he did in Bramber, leaving no clue except his newsprint taunt.
“How could he have conned his way in?” Diamond asked.
“God only knows,” Barneston said. “The guards have an entry code that even I don’t know. Anyone at the gate is under video surveillance from the control room upstairs.”
“Are you sure of the guards?”
“Special Branch is. One hundred per cent.”
“And the system is fully tested?”
“It’s the best they have. We only moved him here three days ago. And, yes, it was tested, every item of equipment. Infrared sensors in every room, lasers, cameras, the lot.”
“Fine-so long as they’re activated.”
“Well, yes, but you need to know the codes before you can tamper with anything.”
“Who knows the codes?”
“Only the guards-and if you want to know how many are involved in this operation, there are six men, all experienced, all armed with Glock 17s and Heckler and Koch machine guns. They rotate their duties, of course. And in addition there are four dog-handlers. At any one time, there are always two officers and a dog on the premises.”
“Did Matthew Porter approve of all this?” Hen asked.
“Sure. He was given more freedom than he had in the Streatham safe house. It’s considerably bigger, with an outdoor heated pool and a games room. He was OK.”
“I mean, potentially he’s the security risk, isn’t he, even though it’s all set up to protect him?”
“You mean if he wanted out? That could have been a risk in Streatham. Not here, I think.”
A personal radio gave off the sound of static and a voice came through clearly enough for everyone to hear. “Oscar Bravo to Control, reporting a sighting from the chopper. A four by four, possibly Range Rover, stationary in Caseys Lane, reference six-eight-five-eight-zero-three. Repeat six-eight-five-eight-zero-three. Shall we investigate? Over.”
“Await instructions. Over.”
“Caseys Lane. Where?” Barneston demanded, already poring over the map on the kitchen table.
Hen found it. “Less than a mile, I’d say.”
“Give me that,” Barneston said to the officer holding the radio. He touched the press-to-talk switch. “We’re on the way. Over and out.”
There was a stampede to the cars.
16
The map reference wasn’t required. The helicopter marked the spot by hovering over it. The convoy of three police vehicles travelled at speed in emergency mode, blue lights flashing. When they got closer the sound of the rotors beating the air drowned out the sirens.
“One thing’s certain,” Diamond said to Hen, some distance in the rear in a fourth car, his own. “We’re not going to surprise anyone.”
But it was wise to advertise their approach. The width of the lanes left no margin for the drivers. After a series of bends they passed a derelict cottage, its roof stripped of most of its tiles, foliage thrusting through the rafters. A short distance ahead was the gate to a field where sheep were grazing, indifferent to the activity. Beside an oak tree, a dark green Range Rover stood in front of the gate on turf, just off the lane. The helicopter pilot had done well to spot it under the tree’s thick foliage. There was no movement at the windows.
Having pointed the way, the helicopter climbed higher, circled a couple of times and remained overhead in case someone made a dash to escape.
The convoy stopped about thirty metres short and two armed officers were detailed to make an approach. A few people got out and crouched behind the vehicles, but Diamond and Hen chose to wait in the comparative safety of the car. They still had a view of the two men moving cautiously ahead, stooping below the level of the hedge. The Range Rover looked unoccupied, but there was no telling what was below window level.
Hen muttered under her breath, “I don’t like to think what they’ll find.”
Neither did Diamond, though he said nothing. The young man had been under Special Branch protection, and it had let him down. If the very worst had happened, any police officer who took his job seriously was going to feel regret, if not shame.
The two armed men in black coveralls and body armour separated, one taking a wide arc through the field on the far side of the Range Rover, while the other remained in the lane. After a series of short forward movements, one of them-the man in the lane-flattened himself to the ground and began a crocodile-like approach to the rear of the vehicle, using his knees and elbows for leverage, but still gripping his short-barrel machine gun. He was close enough to be below the sight range of the wing mirrors.
The afternoon sun caught every detail of the drama. It was getting hot inside the cars.