“I’m one million percent sure,” she replied. “Not only did I have to put up with his histrionics at the hospital for a whole week, I saw him standing above two of your colleagues with a bloody great big gun in his hand just two days ago, and I will never – ever – forget the cold-blooded way he looked at me when I entered the room, or the way he told that bald-headed bastard to get me. He was issuing a death sentence, and you don’t easily forget the face or the voice of the man who does that to you.”
“No,” Charlie said, “I don’t suppose you do. Look, I know you’ve already gone through this with the local officers, but can you tell me anything about the people he was with?”
Mel considered this as she spooned coffee into the three mugs. “My downstairs neighbour’s called Rodney. He’s a skinny white lad with pronounced front teeth and overgrown sideburns. He can’t be more than twenty, I would say, and I get the impression that he’s a bit simple if you know what I mean. He drives a red hatchback but I couldn’t tell you which model. I’m not very good with cars. There was a black woman on the floor when I looked into the room.” Mel closed her eyes and replayed the scene in her head. “I think…” she said as she scrunched her face up in concentration “…I’m almost certain she had a long scar down the right side of her face like she had been bottled in a fight.”
“That’s really helpful,” Charlie White encouraged. “Anything else?”
Mel shrugged. “There was another black man in the room with them, but I only got a fleeting glimpse of him and he was standing with his back to me. He was slim, I think.”
“Did you get the impression they were just popping out for a little while or did it seem more like they were going for good?”
“I’m not sure, but when I looked out the window, Rodney was loading a big bag into the boot. I don’t know if that helps?”
“It might do,” Charlie said. “One last thing: I dinnae suppose you got the registration number, did you?”
The fugitives had almost certainly driven off in the Rover 216 that had been used to spirit Winston away from the wasteland in Canning Town – in which case they already had the index number – but it would have been nice to have conformation, just in case the Rover had been swapped for a different red car. Stranger things had happened, after all.
“I would have,” Mel said ruefully, “if my oafish partner hadn’t woken up and got in the bloody way.”
Charlie White’s mobile started to ring. It was Tyler. “Excuse me,” he said, stepping out into the hall to take the call.
“Charlie, Jack Tyler here. What’s the score?”
White looked over his shoulder to make sure that Mel was out of earshot. “You willnae believe it, boss, but the informant’s the ward sister from the RLH who walked in on Winston just after he’d shot Morrison,” Charlie told him quietly. “She reckons her downstairs neighbour, Rodney, drove Winston, Garston, and Angela off in his wee red car about five minutes before the lids got here. She doesnae know which direction they were heading in, but she saw Rodney load a big bag into the boot, so it looks like they’ve set off for the coast ahead of schedule.”
Tyler swore profoundly. “What could have made them do that?”
Charlie was struck by how worried the boss sounded. He was usually as cool as ice in situations like this. “I havenae got a clue,” he said.
When Tyler next spoke, there was great urgency in his voice. “If they’re heading for Sussex the most likely route from there would be to take the A13 up to the M25. Leave it with me, I’ll have Kent and Sussex informed that it might be heading their way.”
A wise move, Charlie thought;although ANPR cameras had been installed at various points along the M25, it was a big road to police, and unless there were units close enough to respond to any activations all the hard work of getting it onto the system would have been for nothing.
“Have we gained access to the downstairs flat?” Tyler asked, changing tack.
“Afraid not boss,” Charlie said. “It’s locked and secure. I’ve got a lid standing guard outside, but we’re gonna need a search warrant to enter.”
Jack grunted. “I suspected as much. Don’t worry, mate. Mr Dillon’s got the number for a friendly out of hours Magistrate. I’ll get him straight on it.”
“I’ll crack on with taking a statement from the informant then, and await word from you about the warrant.”
◆◆◆
Jack reluctantly dismissed the team for the night at eleven o’clock. There hadn’t been any further sightings of Rodney’s car since Mel had seen it drive off, and despite the TIU live monitoring, there hadn’t been any activity on either the 777 or 321 numbers. As he watched his team grab their things and wearily trudge out of the office, Jack prayed that Winston wouldn’t be gloating at them from the other side of the English Channel come tomorrow morning.
Charlie White’s team was the last to leave the building. They had just returned from searching Rodent’s flat, which had been small, dirty and smelly. They had found some blood smeared bandages in a bin that had, no doubt, come from Winston. These had been seized for DNA comparisons. A local SOCO had attended to take fingerprints, of which there had been an abundance. At least putting Winston and the others inside the flat should prove easy enough with the forensic finds, and it would all be used as evidence against Rodney Dawlish in due course.
The TIU had agreed to continue the live monitoring overnight, and Reg Parker had volunteered to sleep in the office on a little camp bed that was kept for such occasions in case any activity was detected. Dean
