‘Busy. Right.’ She turned back to Powers and held out a copy of a vehicle registration certificate. ‘Tell me about this car. Who did you sell it to?’
Powers snatched the document from her, extracted a pair of reading glasses from the pocket of his overalls and perched them on the bridge of his nose.
‘Can’t remember,’ he said.
‘Try harder,’ said Barnes, and folded his arms across his chest.
Powers swallowed, glanced down at the page in his hand, and then back to Kay.
‘Oh, that’s right. A bloke from Maidstone way. A few months ago.’ He held out the registration document. ‘Is there a problem?’
‘Where’s your copy of the receipt?’
He shrugged. ‘The office was broken into six weeks ago. A lot of paperwork was taken.’
‘Did you report it?’
Another shrug. ‘No. They didn’t take anything of value. Any cash is kept in the safe. Probably just kids. Some of the tools were taken, too. Only the cheap ones, mind.’
‘Did the car belong to you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Who did you buy it from?’
‘Auctions at Sittingbourne.’
‘Got the paperwork?’
‘No – it got taken—’
‘When you were burgled six weeks ago. Right.’
Powers shifted from foot to foot before wiping the back of his hand under his nose. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.
‘If that’s all, I’ve got to get this vehicle’s MOT sorted out today.’
Kay forced down her frustration, fished out one of her business cards from her bag, and handed it to the garage owner.
‘If your memory returns, give me a call,’ she said, and turned on her heel.
‘And here’s my card,’ said Barnes. ‘I’ll expect a phone call from my colleagues at Hythe by the end of the week to tell me you’ve presented them with a full set of your licencing authority documents.’
Kay smiled as she made her way back to the car, Barnes’s footsteps close behind.
Unlocking the car, he stabbed the key in the ignition and glared at the front of the garage.
‘Lying bastard,’ he spat.
‘He is,’ said Kay. ‘Now all we have to do is find out why.’
Chapter Seventeen
Jozef Demiri folded his enormous frame into a large leather armchair and swirled the brandy around in his glass as his eyes flickered across the screen in front of him.
The exclusive club had had an invitation-only policy, and right now he was watching a replay of three of his more lucrative clients enjoying a private viewing. The woman who paraded in front of them was young, hand-picked, and had been one of his favourites.
He sighed, leaned forward and switched off the monitor as the phone at his elbow began to vibrate.
‘What is it?’
He listened to the caller, and took a sip of the light brown liquid, savouring the flavours that caressed his tongue before he swallowed.
‘Show him in.’
He ended the call, placed the crystal glass next to the phone and eased himself out of the chair.
Ignoring the boxes that had been placed against one wall, he made his way across to a desk at the centre of the room as the door to his private office opened, and Tavender appeared, his face thunderous.
‘Well?’ said Demiri.
‘Millard and Hudson’s prints were found on the car. They’ve been arrested.’
‘Will they talk?’
A glint appeared in Tavender’s eyes. ‘Millard has a six-year-old girl at school in Gravesend. Hudson’s girlfriend is pregnant. No, they won’t talk, I can assure you.’
‘They’d better not.’ Demiri narrowed his eyes, his instincts alert. ‘Was that all?’
Tavender’s gaze shifted to the carpet, then back.
‘Well?’
‘Powers called. Hunter turned up at his place with another detective, Ian Barnes.’
‘When?’
‘This morning.’
‘How the hell did they work that out?’
‘They must’ve traced the vehicle back to him.’
Demiri fought to keep his voice calm. ‘He has clear instructions what to do with the vehicles he provides, does he not?’
‘Yes, Mr Demiri.’
‘He’s getting lazy. Is this the first time?’
Tavender looked away.
Demiri cleared the space between them in three paces, and slapped the man’s face. ‘Answer me! Don’t you dare look away from me when I’m speaking to you.’
The man rubbed his cheek, but met Demiri’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Demiri.’
Millard and Hudson were expendable. He had no doubt they’d maintain their silence for fear of what Tavender would do to their families, but Powers was an unfortunate case.
The man had no family, no commitments, and would therefore be unresponsive to any threats Tavender could make.
As it was, they had already arranged for the burglary six weeks ago to take care of some extracurricular business Powers had taken upon himself to run from the small garage.
Demiri had left the man in no doubt about his responsibilities to the organisation, and Powers had quickly acquiesced after Tavender had threatened to take a blowtorch to his balls.
If it had been anyone else, there would have been nothing left to salvage, but the garage owner had his uses – disposable vehicles were a rarity with all the rigorous controls exerted by the UK authorities, and finding another dealer would have been problematic at short notice.
Demiri drained his glass.
Unfortunately, it seemed Powers hadn’t learned his lesson.
It was time he was taught a permanent one.
‘End his engagement with us. Use him as an example to show our other suppliers that when I give them instructions, they do as they’re told.’
‘Yes, Mr Demiri.’
‘What about Stokes?’
‘No more news. I’m monitoring the situation. If there’s an opportunity to deal with him, we will.’
Demiri tapped his finger against the empty crystal glass, the soft chime from the gold ring on his right hand filling the air. ‘We don’t need these sorts of distractions. You should have dealt with him at the same time as the girl.’
The other man lowered his gaze. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Demiri.’
‘Don’t get sloppy in your work, Tavender. I’m relying on you.’
The other man nodded, and straightened. ‘I have some news regarding Detective Hunter.’
‘Oh?’
‘It appears the vet has left home for a while – he was seen getting into a taxi with a large suitcase.’
‘Interesting.’ Demiri rubbed his chin, then waved the other man
