‘How much?’ asked Nightingale.
‘It goes for about five hundred bucks in the States so you can have it for seven hundred and fifty.’
‘Dollars?’
‘You should do stand-up, Birdman,’ said T-Bone. ‘Quid. But I’ll throw in a box of rounds.’
Nightingale took out the envelope of cash, then turned his back on T-Bone while he counted out the notes. He heard T-Bone chuckling behind him but he ignored him. He turned round again and gave him the money.
T-Bone shoved it into his coat pocket without counting it, handed Nightingale the gun and then pulled a box of cartridges from the boot. He gave them to Nightingale. ‘Pleasure doing business with you,’ he said. He raised the door and daylight flooded in. ‘Like I said, return it unfired and I’ll give you half the cash back.’
‘That’s not going to happen,’ said Nightingale. ‘Whatever happens, I’ll dispose of it.’
‘Pity,’ said T-Bone. ‘It’s a nice bit of kit.’ He pulled the door down and locked it. As he straightened up he stopped smiling and looked at Nightingale with dead eyes. ‘If anything happens to this stash any time soon, your life won’t be worth living. You know that, right?’
‘I hear you,’ said Nightingale.
T-Bone took a step closer and glowered down at him. ‘Don’t let my pleasant disposition lull you into a false sense of security,’ he said. ‘Just because you were a cop doesn’t mean you can’t be hurt. And hurt bad. And if you fuck with us, I’ll be the one doing the hurting. Clear?’
‘Crystal,’ said Nightingale. He winked. ‘Be lucky, T-Bone.’
‘Yeah. You too, Birdman.’
Nightingale shoved the gun into his pocket as he walked back to the MGB.
62
Nightingale called Morris on his mobile when he was a few miles away from Fairchild’s house. ‘Are you ready, Eddie?’
‘I’m in the pub, about half a mile past the house,’ said Morris.
‘You’re not drinking, are you?’
‘You’re not my mother, Nightingale. And I’m the one doing the favour here.’
‘For a monkey. Let’s not forget the five hundred quid in my pocket. See you in a bit.’
Nightingale ended the call. He slowed the car once he got near the house, getting a good look at it as he drove past. It was a stone barn conversion with a steep roof that looked brand new and a dovecote at one end. There was a sweeping driveway leading from the main road and a two-car garage running at a right angle to the main house. Nightingale had phoned Fairchild’s Mayfair office and confirmed that the lawyer was in London, and a check of the electoral roll had shown that he lived alone in the house.
Nightingale parked at the side of the pub and found Morris at the bar drinking a bitter lemon. Nightingale ordered a coffee from the landlord. ‘I’m pretty sure the house is empty,’ he said. ‘There’s an alarm box on the side wall. That means there’s probably not a link to the cops, right?’
‘Sometimes they have both,’ said Morris. ‘But the nearest cop shop with twenty-four hour cover is thirty miles away so there’s not much point in a phone link. But I’ll be able to deal with it no matter what the system.’
‘It’s that easy, is it?’
Morris tapped the side of his nose. ‘It is if you know what you’re doing. I used to install them, and nine times out of ten the factory setting is still there. Even if it’s not.?.?.’ He shrugged.
Nightingale’s coffee arrived.
‘By the way, have you got my cash?’ asked Morris.
Nightingale sighed, took out his envelope of cash and counted out ten fifty-pound notes.
‘Petrol?’ said Morris.
Shaking his head, Nightingale sighed again and then handed over another fifty-pound note.
Morris grinned and pocketed the money. ‘You’re a prince among men,’ he said. ‘Right, how are we going to do this?’
‘I’ll leave my car here,’ said Nightingale. ‘We take your car to the house, you get me in, then you shove off back to London.’
‘You’re staying?’
‘That’s the plan. And when I’m done I’ll come back here and pick up my car.’
‘What are you up to, Jack?’
‘It’s complicated,’ said Nightingale.
‘You’re not robbing the place, I hope.’
‘If anything it’s the opposite. He’s stolen from me.’
‘So we’re on the side of law and order?’
‘Not exactly,’ said Nightingale. He finished his coffee and patted Morris on the back. ‘Let’s go.’
Morris had parked his Saab behind the pub. ‘I need to get something from my car,’ said Nightingale. He went around to the MGB and retrieved the Taurus and the box of ammunition from the glove compartment. He put the gun in his right coat pocket and the cartridges in the left. They were so heavy that they pulled the coat down, so he took it off, rolled it up and carried it. He figured that Morris wouldn’t be as amenable if he knew that Nightingale was carrying a gun.
The Saab pulled up next to the MGB and Nightingale climbed into the passenger seat then sat with the coat on his lap. ‘Not cold?’ asked Morris.
‘Adrenaline,’ said Nightingale. He felt the gun shift and held the coat tighter.
‘Do you want me to park on the road or what?’
‘Let’s just drive straight up to the house,’ said Nightingale. ‘I know the guy so just in case there’s somebody inside I’ll ring the bell. If there is someone there I’ll spin them a line and we’ll get the hell out of Dodge.’
‘You said the place was empty.’
‘I said the guy isn’t there. He’s in London. And as far as I know he lives alone. But there’s a chance he has a housekeeper or something.’
‘And if he has, then what?’
‘Then we have a rethink. But there’s no point in counting chickens.’
Morris turned off the road and pulled up in front of the house. He stayed in the car while Nightingale got out. Nightingale kept a tight hold on his coat as he walked up to the front door. He pressed the doorbell twice but no one answered. He turned and gave Morris a thumbs up.
Morris joined him at the front door, carrying a black gym bag with a Nike swoosh across the side.
‘How do you want to play this?’ asked Nightingale.
‘I’ll go in through the back,’ said Morris. He lifted the bag. ‘I’ve got the gear to get through most locks here but if all else fails I’ll go through a window. You’ll hear the alarm start to beep inside once the sensors kick off but I’ll get straight to the console and get it sorted.’
‘Go for it,’ said Nightingale. ‘If there’s a problem I’ll call you.’
Morris nodded and walked around the side of the house. Nightingale unrolled his coat, put it on, then lit a cigarette. He was halfway through it when he heard a beeping sound from the hallway. Then he heard footsteps hurrying across a wooden floor. The beeping continued and Nightingale pulled a face as he anticipated the burglar alarm bursting into life. There was a muffled curse from the other side of the door and then the sound of something metallic hitting the floor, another curse followed and then the beeping stopped. Nightingale flicked what was left of his cigarette across the lawn. The front door opened and Morris stood aside to let Nightingale in.
‘Any problems?’ he asked.
Morris gestured at a control panel on the wall by the stairs. The panel had been opened to expose the circuitry. ‘They’d removed the factory settings so it took me a bit longer than usual, but all good. In fact I’ve added another code so you can come back whenever you want. Just key in four nines and Robert’s your father’s brother.’ He went over to the console and began to reattach the cover.
‘I doubt that I’ll be back,’ said Nightingale. ‘But thanks.’ To the right was a huge open-plan room with exposed beams high overhead and a brick fireplace. ‘How did you get in?’
