Stalkers

think we’ll have to reconsider this arrangement in the future.’

‘Absolutely,’ she agreed.

‘Anyway, I’m just letting you know.’ He slipped an envelope across the desk towards her. ‘Here’s the appropriate paperwork. No doubt, Mr Brahms upstairs will have something to say about it. Just refer him to my mobile if he does. I’ll take full responsibility. Oh Sally, there’s one more thing … if any more police officers come and want to speak to me, I’m abroad but you’re not sure where.’

‘I’m sorry?’ She looked astonished.

‘To be honest, it’s all becoming a bit of a nuisance. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but that chap who was here yesterday, he’s from the Fraud Squad. They want me to witness for them in an embezzlement case. I’ve told them everything I know, which isn’t much. But they keep pestering. Frankly, I can’t be doing with it.’

Sally still looked astonished. ‘Is this wise?’

‘Whether it’s wise or not, that’s what I’d like you to tell them. From this moment on,’ and he checked his Rolex, ‘I’m officially on holiday.’

‘But Mr Blenkinsop, if it’s a pending court case …?’

Blenkinsop kept smiling, but suddenly his smile didn’t reach his eyes. There was a glint of sweat on his brow. ‘Sally darling, I don’t know anything. And if they need to go to the trouble and expense of tracking me down and sending a summons abroad, I’m sure they’ll finally realise that.’

Sally didn’t look placated, and he knew why. She’d probably be quite happy for him to take a few weeks off. It would mean she could keep lax hours and that all she’d really have to do was answer the phone and make coffee for herself — but now she might have to divert a police enquiry too. Well, it was tough. She could thank her lucky stars it wasn’t her disappearance they were looking into.

Blenkinsop left, but only after removing certain items from his desk. He extricated a diary from his top drawer, tore a single page from it and fed it carefully into the shredder. He nodded and smiled to her as he finally departed, but she had difficulty reciprocating, even though she intended to do as he asked. Sally knew which side her bread was buttered on. She was well paid here and Mr Blenkinsop was hardly a demanding boss. If it came to it, she wouldn’t be comfortable telling the police a lie. But then of course she’d only be following orders and couldn’t possibly be held to account for it. More than likely, as he’d repeatedly assured her before leaving, there was almost no chance the police would come to see him again.

But ten minutes later they did.

Sally descended to the lobby dry-mouthed with worry. It was a different officer from the one yesterday. This one was much younger, and, if he hadn’t looked rather beaten-up, he might’ve been quite handsome. He certainly dressed well. His suit was Armani, his tie by Yves Saint Laurent. He was seated on one of the sofas in the company’s waiting area, alongside a young black woman wearing baggy running gear.

‘Hello,’ Sally said. ‘I’m Sally, Mr Blenkinsop’s PA.’

The male officer stood and extended a hand. ‘Detective Sergeant Heckenburg.’

‘What can I do for you?’

‘Actually I was hoping to speak to Mr Blenkinsop himself.’

‘I’m afraid that’s not possible. He’s gone abroad.’

‘Ah. Whereabouts?’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t know.’

Heck raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘You’re his PA, and you don’t know?’

‘Well, he’s on holiday … and it’s a travelling holiday. He likes to tour the continent with his family. He could be anywhere.’

Sally was rather pleased with that response. She’d come up with it on the spur of the moment, and felt certain it would deflect any further questions. But she was surprised at how frustrated the detective now looked.

‘When is he expected back?’ Heck asked.

‘I’m afraid I can’t say.’

‘Miss, you’re aware this is an official enquiry? Anyone deliberately hindering us …’

‘No please, you misunderstand.’ She spoke urgently, suddenly frightened. ‘What I mean is I can’t say for sure.’ This part was true. Before leaving, Blenkinsop had suggested rather vaguely that he might be away as long as three weeks, but he’d offered no specific dates on which to expect his return — which, now that she thought about it, did seem rather odd. ‘I would think he’d be three weeks or so.’

‘And in the meantime, do you have a contact number for him? A mobile maybe?’

‘He has his mobile with him, of course. But all I can do is leave messages, which he’ll pick up from time to time.’

‘Maybe if you’d give that number to me, I could leave him a message?’

Sally shook her head. ‘I can’t do that, I’m sorry. But I’ll help you any other way I can. I’ll ring him every day.’

Heck regarded her carefully.

She blushed. ‘I’m sorry, but it’s his private number and he is on holiday.’

‘Thanks very much for your help. We’ll be back in three weeks.’

‘You’re sure there’s nothing I can tell him in the meantime?’

‘It’s fine.’

Looking more relieved that she probably should have done, Sally turned and walked stiffly back towards the elevators. Heck slumped onto the sofa alongside Lauren.

‘You’re surely not buying that bimbo’s story?’ she said.

‘It doesn’t matter whether I do or don’t. As I’m not here in an official capacity, there isn’t much option.’

‘Maybe we can blag our way up to his office, give his desk a going over?’

‘Let’s keep this on a realistic footing, eh.’

‘Okay, we’ve got his home address. If he’s away on holiday, we’ll have all the time we need.’

‘You mean to commit burglary again?’ Heck sighed. ‘I’m getting tired of only making progress by committing criminal offences. You know, Lauren, I’ve never been much of a churchgoer — not after what happened to Tom. But it would be nice if, just once or twice, we got a spot of help from Him upstairs.’

‘Yeah,’ came a loud Cockney voice from the Reception counter. ‘That’s a taxi for Mr Blenkinsop. London City airport, yeah. Soon as you can, please.’

They turned to look.

The concierge, an elderly, ex-military type wearing a green frockcoat with golden braid at the shoulders, was on the telephone. ‘Yeah, he’ll be waiting in Mad Jack’s — you know that place, the pub on Cornhill? Ten minutes, that’s great. I’ll let him know.’

‘Ask and it shall be given unto you,’ Heck said quietly.

They crossed Cornhill side by side. As they entered the pub, they again checked the photo they’d taken from Deke’s file.

‘Think you’d recognise him?’ Heck asked.

‘I already do,’ Lauren said, stripping off her tracksuit top, regardless of the fact she only had a bloodstained vest underneath. ‘Look.’

It was only mid-morning, so there weren’t many people in the pub, but one or two men in suits were sitting at tables reading newspapers. One was standing by the bar, with a bag at his feet. He was a dead ringer for the guy in the photo.

‘Ian Blenkinsop?’ Heck said, using his best official tone.

‘That’s right,’ Blenkinsop said, turning and smiling — only for his smile to fade very quickly when he realised they were people he didn’t know. His smile faded even further when he saw Heck’s warrant card.

‘I’m DS Heckenburg from the Serial Crimes Unit. Can you come with me, Sir?’

Blenkinsop kept a tight grip on his half of bitter. ‘What’s … what’s this about?’

‘I assure you it’s very important.’

‘Am I being arrested?’

‘I’d rather hoped it wouldn’t come to that.’

Blenkinsop shook his head. ‘If I’m not being arrested, I’m not going anywhere.’

‘Sir …’ Heck spoke quietly, but leaned close, getting right into Blenkinsop’s personal space. ‘I’m assuming that