His hair was wet and the shoulders of his coat flecked with water.
‘It’s not how I’d have played it, Spider. That’s all I’m saying.’
‘I had seconds to make up my mind,’ said Shepherd, stuffing the gloves into his coat pocket. ‘What did you expect me to do? Tell him I had to check with my boss?’ He took a sip of his whiskey.
‘No one’s saying it wasn’t your call,’ said Hargrove. He sat down on the bench seat next to Shepherd and stretched out his legs. He had been in the back of the Transit van for the best part of four hours. ‘I’m just reminding you that we’ve spent two months setting up Hendrickson and I wouldn’t want to put that at risk for the sake of a maybe down the line. Plus, we’ve got Hendrickson’s partner tucked away in a safe-house. He’ll be none too happy when I tell him he’s got to stay there for the foreseeable future.’
‘I figure it’ll take a few days at most. I’ll fix up a meet to see if she’s serious. I’ll go in wired up, get her to pay a deposit and we can leave it at that. If her husband’s knocking her around the court’ll probably go easy on her so there’s no point in busting a gut.’
Hargrove cupped his hands round his brandy glass. ‘You’ll be going in blind,’ he said. ‘All we have is a first name.’
‘She’s a battered wife,’ said Shepherd. ‘I doubt I’ll be in any danger.’
‘I don’t like it, Spider. There are too many ifs, buts and maybes.’
Shepherd leaned forward. ‘Boss, if she doesn’t talk to me, she might find someone else.’
Hargrove nodded thoughtfully. ‘Forty-eight hours, that’s all I can give you.’
Shepherd looked pained, but the time frame wasn’t up to him. ‘The ball’s in her court,’ he said. ‘Hendrickson wouldn’t give me her number.’
‘If she’s serious she’ll call. If she isn’t, it’s a waste of time anyway. Forty-eight hours, Spider. Then we arrest Hendrickson.’
Shepherd opened his mouth to argue but the superintendent silenced him with a wave. Shepherd had worked with Hargrove long enough to know when he’d reached his limit. Forty-eight hours was all the time he had.
Roger Sewell was a big man, a good three inches taller than the superintendent, and thirty kilograms heavier. He had receding hair that he’d grown long and tied back in a ponytail, and a goatee beard. He was wearing a grey suit but had taken off his tie and thrown it on to the hotel bed.
‘No bloody way am I spending another night in this shit-hole,’ he said. ‘I was promised a safe-house not a two-star bloody hotel.’
‘It’s forty-eight hours,’ said Hargrove, patiently. ‘Two days.’
‘Two days during which that bastard Hendrickson is going to be ripping my company apart,’ said Sewell. He pointed an accusing finger at the superintendent. ‘Are you going to reimburse me for any money I lose on this?’ He didn’t give the superintendent time to reply. ‘Of course you’re bloody not. What if he empties the bank accounts and transfers the money off-shore. Then I’m fucked with a capital F, aren’t I?’
‘Today’s Friday,’said Hargrove. ‘You have my word that by Monday your partner will be in custody and you’ll be free to do whatever you want. Just give me the weekend, Mr Sewell.’
Sewell paced over to the window. ‘They won’t even let me go to the bloody pub. This is Leeds, for God’s sake. No one knows me in Leeds. I wouldn’t be seen dead in Leeds.’
‘It’s too much of a risk, Mr Sewell,’ said Hargrove. ‘If anyone recognises you and mentions it to Hendrickson, he’ll know he’s been set up and he’ll run.’
‘So put him under surveillance.’
‘We have. Two men are watching him round the clock. But we can’t account for phone calls or emails.’
Sewell slammed his hand against the window-frame. ‘I’m the innocent party here, yet I’m the one being held prisoner. That bastard Hendrickson should be behind bars and he’s living it up on the outside while I’m eating off a tray.’ He turned to face the superintendent. ‘I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me. I even lay down in that hole in the ground with fake blood on my face while you took photographs. But I’ve reached my limit.’
‘Forty-eight hours, Mr Sewell. It’s not much to ask.’
‘That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have to sleep on a lumpy mattress and watch a fourteen-inch TV. And have you seen the bloody room-service menu? Chips with everything.’
‘Mr Sewell, let’s not lose sight of what was happening. Your partner was looking to have you killed. If we hadn’t intervened there was a good chance he’d have succeeded and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.’
Sewell dropped into an overstuffed armchair and swung his feet up on to the bed. He ran a hand over his thinning hair and down the ponytail. ‘Bastard,’ he said. ‘I can’t believe he’d have me killed. He’s a vegetarian, for God’s sake.’
‘People have killed for a lot less than he stands to gain with you out of the picture,’ said Hargrove.
‘Yeah, but it’s only bloody money.’
‘We do appreciate the help you’ve given us,’ said the superintendent. ‘By Monday you can be back in the office and you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing that your partner is going to prison for a long time.’
‘I hope so,’ said Sewell. ‘I bloody well hope so.’ He looked across at the superintendent. ‘Can you at least tell me why?’
‘It’s an ongoing operation,’ said Hargrove. ‘That’s all I can tell you.’
‘Involving Hendrickson?’
Hargrove nodded. He didn’t like lying to Sewell, but he knew that the man was a lot less likely to cooperate if he knew that the operation had been extended to include a second party. Besides, it was a white lie. Hendrickson
‘You’ll owe me one,’ said Sewell.
‘Indeed,’ said Hargrove.
‘I want my laptop,’ said Sewell. ‘And my mobile phone.’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ said Hargrove.
‘I won’t call anyone. I won’t send emails. I just need to know what’s happening.’
‘Computers leave traces. So do mobile phones. We can’t afford the risk of anyone finding out you’re still alive.’
Sewell threw up his hands in disgust.
‘Two days, Mr Sewell,’ said Hargrove. ‘You have my word.’
The local police had assigned three uniformed officers to babysit Sewell, taking it in turns to sit in the hotel’s reception area in plain clothes. They weren’t there to guard him, merely to ensure that he stayed in the hotel. The only threat to Sewell’s life was Hendrickson, and Hendrickson was under the impression that his business partner was dead and buried in the New Forest.
The officer on duty was a fifty-something sergeant with a thickening waistline and thinning hair. He began to get to his feet as Hargrove walked out of the lift but the superintendent waved at him to stay seated and sat in the adjacent armchair. ‘How’s he been?’ he asked.
‘Grumpy, sir,’ said the sergeant. ‘Keeps asking if he can go out for a walk. Complains about the food, the TV, the bed.’
‘He’s not to go out,’ said Hargrove.
‘I understand, sir.’
‘We’re having to extend his stay over the weekend,’ said Hargrove. ‘I’ll be clearing it with your bosses. But the longer he’s here, the more likely he is to slip the leash, so I’m going to have to ask you to set up shop in the corridor outside his room.’
The sergeant looked fed up but said nothing. The superintendent sympathised. Sitting in a hotel corridor wasn’t the most entertaining way to pass an eight-hour shift. ‘If he’s still unhappy about the hotel food he can order in from restaurants but make sure he pays cash. On no account is he to use his credit card.’
‘Understood, sir.’
‘Pass on the instructions to the rest of the team,’ said the superintendent. ‘If you want to break it up into four-hour shifts, that’s fine by me. So long as he’s covered round the clock, you can work it any way you want.’
‘It’s all overtime,’ said the sergeant. ‘You won’t be hearing any complaints.’
Shepherd sat in his car and looked at the front of the house: a neat semi, the garden lovingly tended, the paintwork less than a year old, a TV dish over the garage. Tom and Moira Wintour had put a lot of work into their Hereford home and it showed. A year-old Lexus was parked in front of the garage, freshly waxed.
