Hidden in Plain Sight (Detective William Warwick 2)

The helicopter banked left and headed southeast, leaving Westminster behind them.

“Any observations you want to share with me?” asked the Hawk after a few minutes.

“We’re flying over Wandsworth, Southwark, and Brixton,” said William. “So we must be looking for tower blocks, and one in particular?”

“You’re halfway there,” said the commander, as the pilot made a smooth 180-degree turn, before heading back toward Brixton. “So, what’s unusual about this morning?”

“It’s snowing heavily,” said William, but didn’t add, so what?

“You’re so sharp, DS Warwick, you could peel an apple.”

They flew over Battersea Bridge for a second time, but William was still none the wiser, although the commander clearly knew exactly what he was looking for, as his eyes remained focused on the buildings below.

After the pilot had turned back for a third time and took a slightly different route, the Hawk suddenly declared, “There it is, staring us both in the face.”

“There’s what?” said William, as the helicopter swooped down to hover for a moment above one particular tower block.

“Take a closer look, DS Warwick, and tell me what you see. Or more important, what you don’t see.”

William stared through the falling snow and then suddenly let out a yelp of triumph. “Got it!”

“What have you got, DS Warwick?”

“The roof that isn’t covered in snow.”

“And what does that tell you?”

“Has to be above a drugs factory where they’re growing cannabis.”

“Why?”

“Because the rising heat from the massive arc lights inside is melting the snow the moment it settles.”

“In one. So now we’ve discovered where Rashidi’s slaughter is, we can move on to the more difficult challenge of how we get inside without him realizing we know his most closely guarded secret.”

A job for your UCO, thought William, but didn’t offer his opinion as the helicopter headed back to Battersea. If he had mentioned it, the commander would have agreed with him, although he wouldn’t have told him he had an appointment with Marlboro Man later that morning.

* * *

“What’s it going to cost me?”

“In and out, clean job, five grand cash should do it,” his fellow prisoner said, as they continued their slow perambulation around the yard. “But it won’t be possible if anyone else is on the premises.”

“Then it will have to be on a Friday,” said Faulkner. “That’s the housekeeper’s day off when she visits her mother in Sevenoaks. They have lunch together and go to the local cinema, before she spends the evening at her mother’s house. She’s rarely back at the Hall much before eleven.”

“You seem remarkably clued-in about her movements, remembering we’re banged up in here.”

“Although my ex-wife has sacked most of the staff, she’s kept my chauffeur on. He’s currently receiving two pay packets a week, and I pay both of them.”

“How do I get paid?”

“Makins, who used to be my butler, will be waiting at the Hall next Sat

urday evening. He has another job to do for me during the day, so if your man turns up at around seven, he’ll receive the first thousand.”

“And the rest?”

“You’ll get that when it’s clear for all to see that the job’s been done.”