for the duration, yeah?'
Widdowes nodded.
'Avoid windows. I doubt he'd try and shoot you but better to be safe than sorry, so if you must go past a window keep moving. Whether inside or outside the house, don't ever present a static target and don't whatever you do speak or shout out to me don't worry about warnings, if he comes anywhere near here I'll see him before you do. I'll have him covered. Behave at all times as if you were alone in the house. Have you met up with the two police guys?'
'Yes. They're MI-5 people, in fact, in police uniforms.'
'That's fine. Basically what we need them to do is mooch around the front of the house. Just wander about between there and the road, and stick their necks into the back garden every so often. They should stay together most of the time, smoke the odd fag, that sort of thing. They've got to look like lazy and incompetent jobs worths out to grass and no threat to anyone. Can you make sure they understand that?'
Widdowes nodded again.
'Otherwise, just observe your usual routine. It might help if you put an empty bottle or two out each night give the impression you're hitting the old vino.
That'll encourage him to think...'
'Yeah, I know what you're saying. Nerves shot, soft target...' Alex looked at Widdowes. His darting glances, uneven colour and paper-dry bps confirmed that he was very frightened indeed. He put a hand on the older man's shoulder.
'George, mate, we re in this together and I'm fully aware that your part is the harder one. Honestly. If you can think of a better way of nailing this fucker I'm on for it, believe me.
Widdowes pursed his lips and nodded.
'I'm also sorry to put you through a non-existent house move, but again...'
'That's OK,' said Widdowes, forcing an unconvincing smile.
'I've been meaning to sort through all this junk. Get my life into some sort of order. What do you want to do about eating?'
'Well, it gets dark at about eight o'clock and I want to get into position about then. So if we have a feed at sevenish
'I'll knock something up. You're going to wait for him in the river, aren't you?'
'That's the idea.'
'Have you considered how you're going to get into position without him seeing you? I mean, we have to assume he's watching the area around the house. Quite possibly from close up.
'You're going to have to drive me downstream to somewhere I can get into the river and work my way back here. Somewhere he won't see me get out of the car.
'That's no problem. I can take you up to the next road bridge and you can get back through the grounds of Longwater House. There's no one there at the moment, the place is closed up.' Widdowes frowned.
'But how do you know Meehan won't be down there? How do you know you won't run into him?'
'Because he won't want to go in blind. He'll come from the direction he can watch the house and the guards from, which is upstream. You can't see anything at all from where I'm going, except trees.'
Widdowes slowly nodded.
'Right. Got you.
'Is there a pub in the downstream direction? Some reason you might be going that way?'
'There's an off-licence in Martyr Worthy. If I come back ten minutes later with a Thresher's bag..
'Good enough. Now I'd suggest you get upstairs. Maybe take a cup of tea to the two cops give you an excuse to brief them about looking useless.'
'What will you do?'
'I'll be OK, don't worry. See you at seven.
Widdowes nodded and smiled wryly.
'I'll tell you one thing,' he said.
'If this guy Meehan succeeds in taking me out there are going to be some long faces at Thames House.'
Alex looked at him.
'Angela Fenwick, for a start,' continued Widdowes.
'She's in line for the directorship, that's why the deaths of Fenn and Gidley have pissed her off so royally. If she loses any more of her desk officers it's going to start looking very much like carelessness. Her star and that of her familiar could well start to decline.'
'Her familiar?' asked Alex, surprised by the bitterness and vehemence of his tone.
'Dawn Bloody Harding. Zulu Dawn. Dawn of the Living Dead. From the moment she joined the service she hitched her wagon to Angela's that's why her progress has been so meteoric. For as long as Angela's riding high, Dawn's up there with her. But if Angela falls, then Dawn goes down too. Don't overlook the political side of all this, chum. You've been brought in to safeguard the upward mobility of a political cabal.'
'I'm here to safeguard you, George. The rest doesn't interest me.
Widdowes nodded philosophically and shrugged.
'I'm sorry. You're right it's not your worry. Getting cynical in my old age, that's all.'
When he had gone Alex unrolled his sleeping bag on the camp bed, lay down and stared at the cellar's plasterboard ceiling. Eventually he closed his eyes. It was going to be a long night and he would do well to get some rest. In his pocket, his mobile throbbed.
'Yeah?'
'It's Dawn Harding.'
'Zulu Dawn!'
There was a silence.
'Where did you get that name?' she asked accusingly.
'Have you been ..
'It's one of my favourite films,' said Alex breezily.
'How are you?'
'Fine,' she said curtly.
'Is everything OK down there?'
'So far, yes.
'How's George holding up?'
'He's under a bit of stress but he's keeping it all together.'
'You think Meehan will come tonight?'
'Might. Bird in the hand and so on.'
There was a pause.
'Are you ... OK?' she enquired.
'Do I detect a note of concern?' asked Alex, unable to keep the smile from his voice.
'No, you don't!' she snapped.
'I simply need to know you're in good shape. I don't want any more corpses on the pathologist's slab.'
'Don't worry,' said Alex, the vision of Dawn suspended high above the ground in her scarlet underwear flashing past his eyes.
'I'll keep myself in good shape for you.'
She disconnected. Alex returned his gaze to the ceiling and his smile faded. He had ninety minutes in which to rest up. He closed his eyes.
Shortly after seven Widdowes woke him. The MI-5 officer was carrying a plateful of cheese and ham sandwiches, a Granny Smith apple, a Mars bar and a two-litre bottle of still mineral water.
'Sorry,' he said.
'It's not quite up to Gordon Ramsay standard. I assumed you'd want mustard on the ham?'
'Yeah. Great.'
'I meant to ask. What do you want to do about washing?'
'I don't,' said Alex.
'You can smell toothpaste and soap on the air. I won't be using either until Meehan's dead. And hopefully I
