Both officers nodded and made a note.
“And, Jackie, now that you’re no longer on the game, what have you been up to?”
“We have a two-bus problem, sir,” Jackie said after the laughter had died down. Suddenly the team’s attention switched to DC Roycroft. “Marlboro Man is convinced that a large shipment of drugs is on its way from Colombia to Zeebrugge. Loose talk by a couple of dealers at the bar, who’d had a little too much to drink.”
“Any idea of the quantity we’re talking about?” asked Lamont.
“He can’t be sure. All he knows for certain is that last time it was ten kilos of cocaine.”
“That must be the shipment that ended up in Manchester,” said Lamont. “Does he know where it’s heading for after Zeebrugge?”
“He has no idea.”
“Felixstowe would be my bet,” said the Hawk.
“What makes you say that, sir?”
“Anti-corruption has two customs officers there under surveillance, and they tell me they’re expecting to make an arrest in the near future.”
“Then DS Warwick and DC Roycroft had better get their arses down to Felixstowe sharpish,” said Lamont. “And keep an eye on every ship that arrives from Zeebrugge. Well done, DC Roycroft.”
“I’ve got more,” said Jackie, looking rather pleased with herself.
“Spit it out,” said Lamont.
“A word MM heard several times that night was ‘caravan.’”
“We’re either being set up, or that man’s worth his weight in gold.”
“But it’s not all good news,” said Jackie. “Now Tulip’s back on the streets again, he’s been back to the Three Feathers looking for Heath.”
“That’s all we need,” said the Hawk.
16
“The second day of any stakeout is always the worst,” said Jackie.
“Why?” asked William, keeping his binoculars trained on the entrance to the harbor.
“On the first day it’s easy enough to keep your concentration, but by the second, the thrill of the chase and the sense of anticipation are beginning to wear off.”
“And by the third?”
“Boredom sets in. Your eyelids get heavier and heavier, and you struggle to stay awake. But at least that’s better than having to listen to your dreadful stories, which would send an insomniac to sleep. I’ll bet Beth doesn’t have to count sheep at night.”
“At least this time we know exactly what we’re looking for,” said William, ignoring the barb. “Unlike your trip to Guildford in search of a stolen Picasso that turned out not to exist.”
“Don’t remind me,” said Jackie. “On this occasion the harbormaster couldn’t have been more helpful. There are only two vehicle ferries arriving from Zeebrugge today, both Townsend Thoresen, and as we’re looking for a car with a caravan in tow, it shouldn’t be too difficult to identify, although we’ll still need to check the number plate of every car, just in case.”
“Where did the three caravans we spotted yesterday end up?”
“One went to a caravan park in the New Forest where its owner lives. The second is on its way to Scotland, and according to the Police National Computer the third is owned by the Reverend Nigel Oakshot of The Rectory, Sandhurst, Berkshire. We decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.”
William laughed. “When’s the first ferry due today?”
“The Anthi Marina should dock around eleven twenty, and will be unloading at RoRo one or two. We won’t go anywhere near the dockside until she comes into view. We don’t want to be spotted by one of the customs of
ficers under surveillance with the anti-corruption unit. What are you reading?” she asked, looking down at the book resting in William’s lap and wondering if he had been listening to a word she was saying.