'Then Mr. Mullett will have to be told.'
'No time for that, either.' Mullett would only say no.
'Seaton is in Felford Division. Shouldn't we let them handle it?' asked Burton.
It was Cassidy who answered. If the boy was there, no other division was going to steal the glory for finding him. 'It's our case,' he said firmly.
'There could be trouble,' said Burton, shaking his head doubtfully.
'Not if we play our cards right,' said Frost.
But Frost rarely played his cards right.
Burton coasted the car up the bumping approach to the caravan site and switched off the lights. A high, chain-link fence enclosed a field, its grass overgrown and sagging with the weight of rain water. Huddling under the shelter of a group of trees to the rear of the site was a line of caravans of all shapes and sizes. The wind rattled the fencing and caused the trees to groan in protest. In this weather the caravan park was a cheerless, desolate place.
There were four of them, Frost, Burton, Cassidy and Liz. He had considered bringing at least another four in a second car, but Mullett's dire threats about overtime payments decided him against it. In any case, for this clandestine operation, the fewer people involved, the better. 'What a dump!' he grunted, holding out his hand for the night glasses. Burton gripped his arm and pointed. A light had come on in one of the caravans. But he'd already seen it.
He fumbled at the focusing control and panned across the front of the caravan. The curtains were tightly drawn, but a thin crack of light seeped out into the night. He located the door and the number shimmered into focus: 12. It was Finch's caravan. He grinned to the others. 'I think our luck's changed.'
The chain link fence was too high for them to scale and the heavy padlock on the main gates refused to yield to any of Frost's skeleton keys, so they watched impatiently as Burton, his face contorted with the effort, clamped the cutters across the chain and squeezed. The jaws bit through the chain and the padlock dropped on the mud. The gate creaked and ploughed a groove in the muddy ground as they pushed it open.
Crouching low, the long, wet grass slapping at their legs, they squelched past the silent row of dark caravans on to number 12.
Frost checked to make sure the only exit from the caravan was by the main door, then he mounted its two wooden steps. From inside they could hear a voice babbling, then music. A radio playing. He banged the door with his fist. 'Police. Open up!'
Almost immediately, the light went out and the radio was silenced. 'Don't sod us about. We know you are in there.' He waited. Silence. He stepped to one side so Burton could smash the glass of the door panel with the heavy duty cutters and slip his hand inside to turn the catch. The door swung open. A stale, empty smell. They stepped gingerly into darkness and silence.
'Torch!'
Burton's torch beam sliced through the darkness and picked out a light switch. Frost tried it. It worked, the dim bulb revealing a plastic-topped table that could be folded back and two bunk beds stripped of clothing. There was a lamp and a small mains radio on the table, both connected to an electronic control programmed to come on at different times during the night. Frost pressed the manual button. The lamp lit up and the radio came on. A burglar deterrent.
The bottom bunk was over a storage area. They opened the doors to reveal bedding and table linen jam- packed. A partitioned section was the kitchen, its oven powered by propane gas. Opposite the cooker was the sink. Frost spun the tap and a jet of rust-coloured water hammered out, bouncing off the sink and splashing everywhere. He quickly turned it off and wiped water from the front of his mac. The carpeting on the floor was sodden. 'I don't know why I did that,' he said.
'It doesn't look as if anyone's here,' observed Liz, rather redundantly.
'I was beginning to come to that conclusion myself,' sighed Frost. 'Let's get the hell out of here.'
'What about the broken door glass?' asked Cassidy.
'It was already broken when we got here,' said Frost. 'Bloody kids!' It had been a long day. A fruitless day. He wanted to get home and put an end to it and hope that the morning would bring something marginally better.
He switched off the light and closed the door behind them as they descended the wooden steps. Then he stopped dead, a finger to his lips. 'I heard something,' he whispered.
A rustling in the grass. Someone moving about. Burton's head turned from left to right, trying to locate the source, then he nudged Frost and pointed. 'There!'
A dark shape loomed, then another. A white, blinding glare as torches were shone straight into their eyes.
'Hold it! None of you move. Police!'
'Oh shit!' groaned Frost.
Mullett was almost foaming at the mouth. 'You went into another division's area and you neither sought my permission, nor did you have the common courtesy to let them know!'
'I forgot,' said Frost, edging towards the door. He was too tired and fed up to think of a decent excuse and, in any case, this sort of escapade was excusable only if it produced results. They had been dragged off to Seaton station by the uniformed men who ignored all their protests, but luckily their Station Sergeant recognized Frost. 'Why didn't you let us know, Jack? We've had a spate of break-ins on those caravans, so when someone phoned to report four suspicious-looking thugs creeping about and we find the padlock cut off…'
'I have been dragged out of bed in the middle of the night, phoned personally by the Seaton Divisional Commander,' continued Mullett. 'He was absolutely furious, and justifiably so. Fortunately he is a personal friend of mine, so I apologized profusely on your behalf.'
'Good,' grunted Frost, reaching for the door handle. 'No harm done, then.'
'No harm done?' Mullett's voice had soared to a screech. He pointed to a chair. 'Sit!' He was getting his second wind. 'You've done lasting harm, Frost. There are certain basic procedures, procedures that even the rawest recruit would automatically follow. You do not leave your own division without telling me. You do not enter another division without permission and you do not break into other people's property without a search warrant.'
'I was sure the kid was there. There wasn't time to get a warrant.'
'There was plenty of time. You just couldn't be bothered. In my division you do things by the book — understand?'
'Yes, I'll bear it in mind,' said Frost vaguely. His mind was elsewhere and he was only giving the superintendent a small part of his attention. He stood up.
'And what is worse, you dragged Cassidy along with you, giving him the impression you had my permission.'
Frost's lips tightened. Cassidy knew what the score was and had obviously got his own version of events in first. 'That was unforgivable of me, sir,' he said flatly.
Mullett glared. He never knew how to take it when
Frost agreed with him. The sooner he could find a way of replacing him with Cassidy, the better. 'There are going to be some changes in this division,' he warned grimly.
Frost visibly brightened up at this. 'They're not moving you on, are they, sir? It's not fair, you're doing your best…'
'No, Frost,' snapped Mullett icily. 'They are not moving me on.'
'Oh!' Frost tried not to sound disappointed, but didn't succeed. He pushed himself up from the chair. 'Well, if there's nothing else…'
Mullett sighed. What was the point? 'No, inspector. There is nothing else.' The man was impossible, but this strengthened his resolve. Frost would have to be transferred.
Frost climbed into his car, his mind churning over the events in the caravan park. Something in the caravan had flashed the briefest, subliminal message… something important. He yawned. Whatever it was, it would have to wait. Three o'clock in the morning and he was deadbeat. Sod everything.
He dug into his pocket for a cigarette. The packet was empty. Panic broke in as he searched deep into every pocket and scrabbled through the glove compartment. The ashtray held only ash. Sod it. He couldn't get through the night without a cigarette and the knowledge that he didn't have any made the craving almost unbearable. No shops
