“Any hope of an early result?” Hardy asked. “It’s not just important, it’s vital Work day and night, but get results.”
“There’s a half-chance,” Roger said. “Thanks, Mr Hardy.”
“And listen,” said Hardy. “Don’t tell Janet or anyone where you’re working, keep it under your hat and keep your hat on all the time.”
“Right.”
“Luck,” said Hardy, laconically.
Roger put down the receiver, pursed his lips, and then looked into Marino’s eyes. He was acutely aware of the way Lissa looked at him.
He said: “I’m under your orders.”
“You aren’t under anyone’s orders,” Marino retorted at once. “Where it’s a case of getting Ricky back, or finding out where he is, we’ll take yours. But you can’t work if you’re hungry. Lissa, why don’t you go and get Roger some lunch?”
• • •
Sitting opposite Lissa Meredith, eating a huge T-bone steak, the urgency of the Shawn kidnapping seemed to fade. It wasn’t anything she said or did; it wasn’t even the radiance in her face, a glow from some inner fire which certainly hadn’t been lighted by him. It was simply that, being with Lissa Meredith, there wasn’t room for anything else; not unless she wanted it. It was like being cut off from the world. Roger knew that it wouldn’t last, wasn’t sure that he wanted it to. He wasn’t sure of anything, except that it was as much for her as for any official reason that he wanted to break this case open; to find a child who was with a man known as McMahon somewhere in Canada or the United States.
It didn’t even occur to him that there wasn’t a chance.
A waiter was pouring out coffee, when another waiter came up with a telephone, which he plugged into the wall.
“For Superintendent West.”
“Thanks,” said Roger.
“Roger,” said Bill Sloan, a moment later. He wasn’t breathless, but a note of urgency was in his voice; the world came back, the problem appeared in sharp outline again. “I think we’re on to something.”
“The car?” asked Roger sharply.
“It might be. Peel got on to it at a garage near Hammersmith Broadway — just off the Fulham Palace Road. An Austin A70, and an American took it in a week ago, with big-end trouble. The same man collected it.” He paused. “Peel found out that the car came from the Barnes direction and went back the same way. Two or three garages on the Barnes Road have supplied petrol to an A70 with an American driver. Is it all right to ask the Barnes police to see what they can do?”
“Yes, and don’t lose any time. Send Peel to Barnes.”
“He’s there already.”
“Fine. Then meet me at Hammersmith Underground, by the main bookstall, in half an hour,” Roger said.
“This time I’m glad to let you go,” Lissa told him.
• • •
Sloan, looking even bigger than usual in a brown suit that was a shade too small, stood by the magazines and books displayed on the stall at the underground station. He didn’t look round until Roger was within a yard of him. They moved off together, mixing with the crowd which had come off a train, turned left at the side entrance to the station, walking quickly, but without seeming to hurry, to Roger’s parked car.
“Follow me at a good distance,” Roger said. “Not towards the garage, we can tackle that afterwards. Come on to the Divisional HQ and I’ll meet you there.”
Sloan said: “What’s on?”
“It looks as if we’re being watched by a man behind the taxi outside the station.” Neither of the policemen looked round. “He’s been watching me, I think.”
Sloan grinned, as if at some joke.
“Be seeing you!” He went towards his own car.
Roger took a newspaper from the seat of his, then slammed the door and walked in the other direction. He passed the man near the taxi without glancing at him, waited at a pedestrian crossing until the lights changed, then walked briskly to the other side of the road. He nearly blundered into a man coming towards him, apologized, side-stepped, and faced the opposite pavement for the second he needed. The man was showing obvious interest. Roger hurried, turned into Glenthorne Road and glanced round.
The man stepped on to a pedestrian crossing, tall, thin, wearing a raincoat; and it was much too hot for any kind of coat. He hurried. Roger slowed down, giving the other man plenty of time to catch up with him. The man walked by without a glance, then went into a shop doorway.
He came out when Roger had passed it.
7
DEAD MAN
ROGER turned into the entrance of the Hammersmith police station, was recognized, nodded and hurried to the Superintendent’s office. Wirral, in command at Hammersmith, was a lanky, melancholy Yorkshireman, slow of movement and speech but quick enough on the uptake.
