‘Yes. . Yates did this to me. I never said nothing, and he goes and does this. I’m seen as a grass now. No one gets a slap like this if they don’t deserve it, so no one will believe me when I say I never grassed.’ He choked. ‘I’m finished. . finished. . I can’t go nowhere now so I need that protection offer.’ He drew his breath deeply. ‘Blimey. . and they tell me this isn’t it; they tell me the pain will get worse before it gets better. . that this is only the start of it.’
‘Sister told me the same thing.’
‘She’s a hard old girl. Met her for the first time this morning when she came on duty. She said, “People who have had a heart attack need this bed”, then walked out. I won’t be leaving her a box of chocolates when I go.’
‘So what do you want to tell me? What can you tell me? Witness protection comes at a price.’
‘Everything. . everything I know about Curtis Yates and that cow Gail Bowling, she’s the boss, not Yates — but they are partners. . he’s a little bit junior to her. . and that import and export business — furniture! Do me a favour, it’s ecstasy pills out and humans in. . girls mainly from Eastern Europe on their way to the massage parlours.’
‘We thought as much.’ Swannell took his notepad from his jacket pocket and pressed the top of his ballpoint. ‘I’ll get an overview to start with — all the details will come out later.’
‘OK. . and I can tell you where the bodies are buried. I put them there.’
‘Did you actually murder anyone, Clive?’
‘No, but I was one of Yates’s and Bowling’s undertakers; I got rid of the bodies. Sometimes in cement in the basement of a renovated house in Kilburn, sometimes under a tree. .’
‘A tree?’
‘A cherry tree; Yates likes them. He had his own take on “green burials” before they became fashionable with the save-the-planet brigade.’ He winced with pain. ‘I’ll tell you everything. . everything. . but I need the full package. . new name, new address and a plod outside that door. Once Yates knows I’m grassing him up, my life’s in danger.’
‘Well, if you can tell us what you say you can tell us. . then that is guaranteed, Clive.’
‘Clive.’ The man winced again. ‘Clive “The Pox” Sherwin. . that name belongs to the past. . well in the past. . ancient history.’
‘OK, but for now I’ll still call you Clive.’ Swannell leaned slightly forward and spoke in a soft, gentle tone. ‘The new name will come later.’
‘Alright. . understand, dare say it took longer than a day to build Rome.’
‘Is a good way of looking at it, Clive.’ Swannell nodded. ‘It is a good way to look at it.’
‘Mind you, I’ll keep Clive. . I just need a new surname.’
‘I’m afraid you can’t, it doesn’t work like that.’ Swannell glanced around him — the clinical whites and creams, the heavy grade industrial linoleum, the scent of disinfectant, the sound of traffic outside the old Victorian era building. ‘We have the names listed, you can’t mix and match. We need to know which names have been taken, both Christian and surname.’
‘I see.’
‘Never know your luck though, Clive. . look down the old list and you’ll likely see a “Clive” somebody, though you might not like the surname. . but it’s a long list, doubtless there will be more than one “Clive” on it.’
‘See what I see, when I see it. . when I can see. Now I know what it’s like to be blind. They did a good job on me, Mr Swannell. I mean, did they go to town or did they go to town?’
‘They went to town alright, Clive. So tell me what you can. We can start now. . see how far we get. I can come back as often as need be.’
‘Bring some grapes.’ Clive Sherwin forced a smile.
‘I can do that.’
‘OK, I’ll sing like a canary, but first. . first. .’ He winced in discomfort. ‘First off, you don’t have a lot of time. . You sent a lassie in. . undercover. . a female officer. She was rumbled right from the start.’
‘Yes, we thought as much. We don’t know where she is. .’
‘I do. . I have an idea where she might be. . don’t know the old address.’
‘Come on, Clive!’ Swannell raised his voice. He heard it echo within the glass walls of the isolation ward.
‘Her life’s in danger.’
‘If it isn’t over already. .’ Again Sherwin winced.
‘Clive! Don’t faint on me. . not now.’
‘I won’t faint. Listen. . you need to drive north-west out of the Smoke. . up into Hertfordshire.’
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t know the road. .’
‘That’s a big help. .’
‘You have to drive out of Hemel Hempstead, out the other side from the Smoke. I don’t know the road number but I am sure it’s signposted to Leighton Buzzard.’
‘Leighton Buzzard?’
‘Sure of it. It’s an A road, but just one lane in either direction. I only went there a couple of times. I’m doing my best. . there’s a white cottage.’
‘A white cottage?’
‘Yes, old building. . got a date on it. . 1610 AD.’
‘1610? You sure, Clive?’
‘Certain. It’s my birthday, see — sixteenth October: 1610 — so I remembered it. When I first clocked it, I saw the date and I thought, “well, I never”. Anyway, you turn opposite it up a farm track. It leads to a farm. It’s got a thatched roof.’
‘The farmhouse?’
‘No, the cottage — white, with 1610 on it. . above the door.’
‘Still a bit of a needle in a haystack, Clive.’
‘You need to crack on. If she’s still alive, she won’t be soon. Curtis Yates has a thing about noon.’
‘Noon?’
‘Yes, he doesn’t like chilling anyone before noon. . he really prefers the night-time. . but it’s like deadline noon for him — after midday he starts cooling his victims.’
Swannell took out his mobile phone from his pocket and punched the keys. He stood as his call was answered and turned away from Sherwin. ‘Boss, we need to move. .’
Curtis Yates lit a cigar and smiled at Gail Bowling. ‘I enjoyed that, a leisurely breakfast. . now a cigar. . and then a pleasant drive out to Hertfordshire.’
‘Yes, I know what you mean.’ Gail Bowling smiled. ‘The cherry orchard keeps growing.’
Harry Vicary slammed his phone down, ran from his office to the detective constables’ office. ‘Grab your coats,’ he yelled to Frank Brunnie and Tom Ainsclough. ‘I’ll tell you what’s happening on the way.’
‘Where are we going, boss?’
‘Out to Hemel Hempstead,’ Vicary panted, ‘other side of same. We’ll have to phone the Hertfordshire police — we’ll need some uniforms. . and local knowledge. We need to find a white cottage; out on the road to Leighton Buzzard. . dated 1610 apparently. Penny’s there and in danger.’
‘At the cottage?’
‘No. . I’ll explain in the car.’ He turned and ran down the corridor.
‘I hope we’re in time.’ Ainsclough ran behind him, followed by Brunnie.
‘You hope we’re in time!’ Vicary replied angrily. ‘You didn’t send her there.’
Penny Yewdall stiffened at the sound of car tyres arriving and moving slowly over the rough surface of the farmyard. She heard the dog bark aggressively.
‘They’re here,’ Billy Kemp whined. ‘They’ve come too early.’
‘Early?’ Penny Yewdall glanced at him. It was by then, she estimated, about noon. ‘What do you mean, early?’
‘Yates has this thing about killing during the day. I told you, he doesn’t like icing geezers until after dark. I thought we’d have a few hours yet. How do you think they are going to do it?’
The door of the barn opened and winter sunlight illuminated the interior; the rats were heard to scurry for the
