Nothing Ventured

‘Ross Hogan.’ Jackie paused before adding, ‘The Hawk sent him back to Peckham.’

‘Where I was meant to go!’

‘And you still may if we don’t find the Rembrandt. Because Ross has disappeared off the face of the earth.’

‘Probably resigned after being sent to Peckham.’

‘Or possibly working undercover.’

‘I thought about going undercover.’

‘You’d be useless,’ said Jackie. ‘You look, sound and smell like a choirboy.’

‘No, Ross would be ideal for undercover work. Even criminals think he’s a criminal.’

‘And keep concentrating, because you can never tell when everything will change in a split second.’

‘But when’s that second ever going to happen?’ asked William at the end of the third hour. Then the front door opened and they both fell silent.

Carter appeared carrying an empty shopping bag. He walked down the path, opened the gate and headed off in the opposite direction.

‘Right, now’s our chance,’ said Jackie. ‘Take the camera and see if you can get some pictures of what’s inside that shed.’

‘Can we justify that?’

‘Just about. We’d plead reason to suspect.’ Jackie didn’t sound at all convincing. ‘The moment he reappears, I’ll honk the horn once. Just be sure to stay hidden behind the shed until well after he’s gone back into the house. And don’t forget the three-minute rule.’

‘What about Angie?’

‘If she comes out, I’ll honk twice. Three times if she spots you, in which case start running, because we’ll have to get out of town sharpish. Sometimes you only get one chance.’

‘No pressure,’ said William as he grabbed the camera from the back seat, got out of the car and crossed the road, eyes darting in every direction. He walked cautiously towards No. 91. No sign of anyone, and Carter had left the gate open. He nipped in behind the Volvo, and moved deftly towards the shed. He couldn’t have been visible from the front window for more than a few seconds. He tried the door but it was locked, then he heard a car coming down the road and ducked behind the shed until it had turned the corner.

Looking through the small window of the shed, he could make out a wooden bench and a chair. Some silver filings were scattered over the surface of the bench but it was so dark he could hardly make out anyt

hing else. Could he risk using the flash? He pressed the camera up against the window and fired off a whole roll of film, but he couldn’t be sure if any of the pictures would come out.

He removed the film and was reloading the camera when he heard a car horn honk once. Carter, not Angie. He looked up to see Jackie driving past, and quickly dropped down behind the shed just as Carter reached the gate clutching a Sainsbury’s bag. William heard the front door open and close. A man returning home almost always goes straight to the lavatory, a process that takes at least three minutes. William waited for thirty seconds before making his move: twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty. He stood up, moved swiftly across the lawn, around the far side of the Volvo, and out of the front gate. He didn’t run, and he didn’t look back.

A hundred yards down the road he could see Jackie waiting for him in the car, engine running. No sooner had he closed the passenger door than she drove off.

‘Do you think he saw me?’ asked William, as they headed back to the hotel.

‘No. I kept an eye on the front door, and there was no sign of either of them. So, did you find out what he gets up to in that shed?’

‘It was so dark in there I could hardly see anything, but I took a roll of photos, so we’ll just have to wait and see how they come out.’

‘We’ll have to move out of here tomorrow,’ William reminded her as they drove into the hotel car park.

‘I haven’t forgotten,’ said Jackie. ‘I’ve spotted a B&B that’s quite nearby, but unfortunately it has no view of the house so we’ll be spending most of our time in the car.’

Once they were back in their room, Jackie called Lamont and brought him up to date. William sat by the window, peering through the binoculars while munching the latest supply of ginger biscuits. Carter had returned to the shed, where William could just see an arm moving up and down, working on something . . . but what?

‘What did Lamont have to say?’ he asked when Jackie eventually came off the phone.

‘To stay put for now. Meanwhile, you keep an eye on the house while I go and get the film developed.’

William waited for her to leave before he sat down on the end of the bed and rang Beth’s flat. No reply. She couldn’t be back from work. He wondered if he should risk calling her at the gallery, but decided against it.