smashed and broken body in the morgue, the small fourteen-year-old body that had spilt so much blood on the road. He had tried to stop Cassidy from seeing her until they had tidied her up, but had been pushed aside… The memory of the man's grief and anger still hurt, a mental wound that would never heal. 'We know all this,' he repeated.
'Then here's something you apparently don't know. There was a BMW parked in the road outside the club. The driver was in it. Tommy Dunn was talking to him.'
'I've no knowledge of Tommy talking to anyone, son. If he had, there would have been a witness statement.'
'Depends on how much Tommy was paid to keep his mouth shut.'
Frost lit a cigarette. 'It depends on how reliable your witness is. Funny he never told anyone about this at the time.'
'He says he told you,' said Cassidy.
Frost slowed down. He was driving much too fast. 'He's mistaken.' Headlights of an approaching car dazzled the windscreen. A white Mercedes. 'Look, son, let's drop it for now. We're not concentrating on the job in hand.'
'I'd like to see the file on your investigation of Rebecca's death,' said Cassidy stubbornly.
'I'll dig it out and let you have it,' replied Frost. As soon as he got back to the station he would hide it where no-one could find it. There was no way he would let Cassidy see it. And he'd get Tommy Dunn to have a word with this mouthy witness. He knew who he was. He offered a cigarette to Cassidy which was curtly refused.
'What was Dunn doing at the Coconut Grove that night collecting backhanders?'
'Checking on stolen credit cards,' said Frost, twisting his neck as another car sped past. 'I never realized there were so many damn green cars in Denton.' He sank back gloomily in his seat, squinting at the road ahead through the solid curtain of rain which his squealing windscreen wipers were making pathetic efforts to clear.
'Burton to Inspector Frost. I've found him. Back on the Bath Road, heading north. I'm following.'
'Exactly where on the Bath Road?' yelled Frost into the handset as he swung the car around, shooting up a shower of rainwater.
'Just passing Sandown Road.'
'Right Frost to all mobiles. I want two of you to get ahead of him. Charlie Baker you get to the motorway turn-off, and when he approaches, you take over from Burton. Charlie Abel- tail them both. If it looks as if he's spotted Charlie Baker, then you take over.' He began to whistle cheerfully. Action this was more like it.
'Subject turning north into Forest Row,' reported Burton.
Frost nodded resignedly. It looked as if Cordwell was heading for Denton Woods where it would be bloody difficult to keep track of him once he left the car. It now needed lots more men than he had available. And yet again that evening he bitterly cursed Tommy Dunn for dropping him in it like this.
'He's slowing… he's slowing,' reported Burton. 'He's stopped.'
'Where?' yelled Frost. 'Just in case we might want to know.'
'Sorry. By the public call box, corner of Forest View. He's getting out of the car, making for the call box. He's waiting and checking his watch. The phone's ringing… he's answered it. Now he's hung up and he's dashing back to the Nissan.'
'It must be the final instructions for the drop,' said Frost. 'Don't lose him… we'll be with you soon.'
Burton braked. He was getting too close. A short way back he had lost sight of the Nissan and had jammed down on the accelerator only to have to slam on the brakes to avoid shooting up its backside. Luckily
Cordwell had other things on his mind and did not seem to notice.
The road wriggled into another sharp bend and again the rear lights of Cordwell's car slipped out of sight. Burton accelerated as much as he dared. The weather conditions were making the road surface treacherous. As he negotiated the bend, he cursed. The Nissan had stopped. Had Cordwell seen him? Was he, perhaps, checking to see if he was being followed? Burton drove straight past, avoiding turning his head as he passed, but at the very next bend, he slowed and bumped the car up on to the grass verge. Quickly, he stuffed the radio into the pocket of his raincoat, slung the night glasses round his neck and stepped out into torrential rain.
Running back towards the oak tree, he reported to Frost. 'He's stopped.'
'Whereasked Frost.
'The big oak alongside Forest Common.'
'What's he doing now?'
Burton didn't know. He couldn't see a flaming thing. He couldn't even see the car. Cordwell had switched off the lights and the rain was making visibility very limited. 'Wait,' he panted, dropping the radio back in his pocket and getting out the night glasses.
He located the oak tree, then moved down to the car. It was empty. He panned the common. Bushes, trees… He'd lost him… he'd damn well lost him. He began swinging the glasses wildly from left to right, hoping to pick up something. What was that? Something white. He held the glasses steady on Cordwell in his white mac. Thank goodness it was a white raincoat otherwise he might never have spotted him. He adjusted the focus. Cordwell was carrying something. The money bag.
He became aware of squaw kings from his pocket. The radio. Frost pleading for some news. He fished it out and reported breathlessly, 'Have subject in sight. Will report back.' He raised the night glasses again. Damn. Bushes, trees, but no sign of Cordwell. He panned quickly from left to right. Nothing. Where the hell was he? He almost shook with relief when he again picked up a blur of white. Cordwell emerging from a line of bushes and bramble. He was coming back… Returning to his car. Had he made the drop? At first Burton wasn't sure. Cordwell was at the wrong angle, but when he turned towards the oak, Burton could see that the supermarket chief no longer had the travel bag.
He pulled out the radio and brought the anxious Frost up to date. 'He's made the drop.'
A sigh. of relief from Frost. 'Good boy. What's he doing now?'
The night glasses followed him. 'He's going back to his car.'
The sound of the Nissan's engine could just be heard over the drumming of the rain. 'He's reversing. He's heading back to Denton.'
Frost ducked his head as approaching headlights flared in the windscreen and Cordwell roared past them on his way back. He radioed Charlie Baker, the area car, to wait by Sandown Road and, as soon as Cordwell passed, to follow him at a discreet distance. 'If he goes anywhere but straight home, I want to know.' The kidnapper was such a wily bastard, all that had happened could have been a feint; the money could still be with Cordwell to be dumped elsewhere.
Looming ahead of them, creaking in the wind, was the large oak tree where Cordwell had parked. Frost slowed down, squinting through the windscreen for Burton's car. He spotted it just round the next bend and bumped up on the grass verge to park behind it. He and Cassidy climbed out and peered into rain and darkness. No sign of Burton. 'Where are you, son?' Frost whispered into his radio. Burton blinked his torch a few times and they homed in on his signal.
It was an uncomfortable walk in the dark over bumpy and puddle-ridden ground fighting against the wind and the rain, and it was making Cassidy's stomach hurt like hell. Was this why Frost had asked him along to show up his damn weakness? If so, and he winced as a flame of pain rippled across his stomach, if so, Frost was going to be disappointed.
Burton was crouched behind the trunk of a stunted tree. Not much of a place to hide, but better than nothing. He pointed to a dark mass ahead and handed Frost the night glasses. 'The money is behind there somewhere.'
Frost shook off the rain and raised them to his eyes. 'I can't see a bleeding thing.'
Cassidy took the glasses. 'Those bushes?' he exclaimed. 'They're seventy yards away. Can't we get any closer?'
'It's all open ground,' said Burton. 'We'd be seen.'
'So where's the money?'
'Round the back somewhere,' Burton told him.
'Somewhere? Can't you be more precise?'
'I saw him go behind with the money and come back without it.'
'So it could be any of those flaming bushes and we're on the wrong side seventy yards away.'
Burton indicated the sprawling terrain. 'There's nowhere on the other side to hide. We'd be seen miles away.'
