Gary said, ‘Go for it!’
Before Hen went for it she had to give way to two others, the second a rented van that blocked any view of the traffic ahead. Hers was a Honda Civic and she was quite attached it. She was also quite attached to her life. She edged to the middle to see if she might overtake. The lights of a steady stream of oncoming traffic showed ahead.
‘Don’t worry, boss,’ Gary said. ‘This way, he won’t know we’re following.’
‘All I’m following is this bloody great van.’
‘The road opens up later.’
They passed Southbourne and Nutbourne and still there was no break in the traffic. The road was dead straight, allowing no views of the cars ahead, no way of telling if Francisco was similarly hampered or had zoomed a long way ahead.
‘I went to a funeral last year and something like this happened,’ Gary said. ‘The thing was, the service was at the church and after that we were all supposed to follow the hearse to the crematorium. We came to some traffic lights and got left behind and had no idea where to go after that. About thirty of us ended up at some pub. Whoa!’
The van had braked unexpectedly. Hen managed to stop in time, not without leaving some rubber on the road. ‘What the hell is this about?’
‘You know the Beefeater along here on the left?’ Gary said. ‘I reckon someone is stopping there.’
‘You’re wrong,’ Hen said. ‘Someone is going right and I think it’s Francisco. What’s down there?’
‘Lanes mostly. Chidham, isn’t it?’
The van moved off.
‘That was a Land Rover for sure,’ Hen said. ‘I’m following.’ She flicked the direction light lever. More cars were approaching. All she could do was wait to make the turn.
‘No problem, boss,’ Gary said to keep up Hen’s spirits. ‘We don’t want to get too close to him.’
Men and cars, she thought. They get inside one and feel compelled to assert themselves. Even a rookie DC.
When the gap came and they got across, the lane seemed ominously quiet and looked deserted. ‘He definitely turned down here,’ Hen said. ‘Chidham, you said? I don’t know it.’
‘You wouldn’t unless you had a reason,’ Gary said. ‘We’re on a peninsula really, with the sea to right and left. It could be a clever place to keep a stolen car. There’s a church somewhere, and a pub called the Old House at Home.’
‘No prize for guessing why you came down here.’
‘It was lighter than this when I came. Not much to look at, though. A few houses and farm buildings.’
‘Like barns, you mean?’
‘I know what you’re thinking, guv. Not easy finding them in the dark.’
Hen avoided using full beam. Progress had to be cautious and the lanes got more narrow the further south they went. Some sharp bends slowed them even more. At each bend, she half expected to see the Land Rover’s tail-lights.
She didn’t.
After yet another bend she said, ‘I think we’re going north again.’
‘Probably are.’
They came to a fork. Hen was starting to lose heart. ‘Now what?’
‘My feeling is left,’ Gary said.
More bends, sharp, right-angled. ‘I can see lights,’ Hen said, her foot on the brake. The road had widened and a car was at the side, on the left.
It was a black Mercedes.
‘This is the pub I was telling you about,’ Gary said. ‘Do you want to check the cars?’
‘We’d better.’
They stopped behind the Mercedes and got out. The check didn’t take long. Nothing resembling a Land Rover was parked outside. Gary offered to speak to the landlord, but Hen wanted to get back in pursuit.
In a short time they saw the lights of cars crossing the way ahead. They were back to the A259, the main road they’d left.
‘Should have taken that right fork,’ Hen said. ‘Hold on, I’m going to reverse.’
She backed about fifty metres, found a gateway to turn in, and drove back past the parked cars outside the pub. The fork came up and she took the sharp left along a wider, more promising stretch of lane.
‘Are you watching both sides?’ she asked. ‘He could have taken it off the road and switched his lights off.’
‘I’ve only got one pair of eyes, guv.’
She clicked her tongue, but he was right. It was impossible to see everything. She was doing fifty and it felt like eighty. She switched to full beam. ‘That any better?’
‘A lot.’
‘But of course he’ll see us coming now.’
They came to a T-junction.
‘What now?’
‘We’re going round in circles,’ Gary said. ‘If you turn left you’ll be heading for the main road again.’
They turned right and recognised the series of bends they’d originally taken.
‘We’ve been right round,’ Hen said. ‘He’s beaten us, the tosser.’
After the Chinese meal Jake insisted on walking Jo home, the perfect gent. She was sure he didn’t expect to be invited in. Their friendship was progressing at an old-fashioned tempo. Wham-bam, thank you, ma’am wasn’t this man’s style. In a way, Jo approved, yet she was up for a relationship if and when he was.
They waited for a gap in the traffic at St Pancras and when the time came to cross, he took a light grip on her arm and guided her across. The contact encouraged her but he let go when they were on the other side. Fortunately he wasn’t sure which way to turn, so she tucked her hand under his arm and said, ‘It’s up here and to the left.’ She held on all the way up Alexandra Road to the house.
At the front gate, he signalled he was about to leave by saying it had been a nice evening.
Jo said, ‘You’ve time for a coffee, haven’t you?’
He took a step back and showed her his palms as if she was about to spring at him.
She stepped closer, took his arm again and steered him to the door. ‘Live dangerously.’
He gave an uncertain grin.
In the flat she offered wine, but he said black coffee was what he wanted. She said, ‘You don’t have to worry about missing the last bus. I can easily drive you home when you want to leave.’
He said, ‘That might be against my principles.’
‘What-leaving a lady at the end of an evening?’
He started to say, ‘I meant… ’ and then stopped, outwitted. Instead of saying his piece about private cars and exhaust fumes he shook his head and laughed.
That was the moment she knew he would spend the night with her.
At first light, Hen was directing a search of the Chidham peninsula. Every building capable of concealing a car south of the A259 was assigned to a group of officers. She was convinced Fiona’s Picasso was still there somewhere. Last night Francisco had known he was being tailed. He wouldn’t have risked moving it. He’d probably searched for the bug and found nothing, but that would only have added to his anxiety. He’d be afraid it was concealed somewhere he hadn’t detected.
The task wasn’t huge. The whole area amounted to about two square miles, and much of that was open ground. The populated part, containing the roads they’d driven along, was a section in the middle about half a mile across and a mile from north to south.
‘He may not have used a building,’ Gary pointed out. ‘He could have hidden it out of sight down some farm track.’
‘Do you think I haven’t thought of that?’ Hen said. She hadn’t fitted in much sleep. ‘We’ll check the buildings
