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“What have you forgotten to mention, Mrs. Warwick? Dare I ask?” said William, who stood still in the middle of a pile of ash, staring at his wife.
“Oh, did I forget to tell you, Mr. Warwick, that you are going to be a father of twins?”
William and Beth started jumping up and down and hugging each other, while Christina dropped her bag and began to applaud. It was some time before they returned to the task in hand, when William found it hard to concentrate.
“Is this any use?” asked Christina a few minutes later, handing William a picture hook.
“Our best find yet,” said William, still not having recovered from the news. “Howeve
r, we need as many of them as possible,” he said, before adding the little hook to his collection.
“Why?” demanded Beth.
“Later,” said William.
It was another hour before they’d filled all three large bin liners with countless different objects, when William insisted they should take a break.
“I think we’ve all earned a celebratory lunch at the Limpton Arms,” said Christina, as the bags were deposited in the boot.
“Only if William’s found what he was looking for,” said Beth.
“Sixty-one of them,” said William. “And I think I can now prove the pictures were removed from the house before it was set on fire. Though to be absolutely sure, I’ll still need to visit the Fitzmolean.”
* * *
“The colonel has solved one of our problems,” said Lamont during the Monday morning meeting. “I attended a rehearsal at a block of derelict flats in Croydon last Friday, and can report that Chief Inspector Scott Cairns and his team have got the whole exercise down to well under five minutes.”
“That’s impressive,” said the Hawk. “But it doesn’t solve our problem on the ground, where the lookouts will be able to spot us a mile away, giving them more than enough time to shut up shop and disappear into their boltholes before we can even reach the front door.”
“Is it possible we’re approaching the problem from the wrong direction?” asked William. “Perhaps we should be considering a simpler solution.”
“Enlighten me.”
“Our current plan is to have a dozen armed men hidden in the flat we’ve rented in Block B, and the moment the order’s given, they’ll take control of the walkway and arrest anyone who attempts to escape through that door.”
“And what’s wrong with that?” said Lamont sharply.
“Why not do the exact opposite? We know there’s little or no chance of breaking down, or even getting anywhere near, the slaughter’s reinforced steel door before Rashidi’s safely back in his flat in Block B.”
“That’s exactly why we’ll have armed officers waiting for him on the walkway,” said Lamont.
“But that puts us at an immediate disadvantage,” said William. “First, we have to get at least a dozen men and their equipment up to the twenty-third floor of Block B without anyone spotting them, which in itself would be a minor miracle. Second, even if we did arrest Rashidi and his henchmen as they tried to escape across the walkway, what would we charge them with? Because if they’re represented by some scumbag like Booth Watson, you can be sure he’ll put forward a convincing argument that his law-abiding clients were legitimately making their way to their flats in the other building. They’d be out on bail the same day. No, we have to arrest Rashidi while he’s actually on the premises, or we’ll all be wasting our time.”
“Anyone can raise a problem, DS Warwick,” said Lamont. “It’s finding a solution that’s a little more difficult.”
“Getting a dozen men up to our flat in Block B, along with an armory of guns and other equipment, has always carried the risk of someone working out what we’re up to. Why not cut the chances from twelve to one?”
“And like Horatio,” mused the Hawk, “will he be expected to defend the bridge alone?”
“No, sir, we don’t need Horatio for this job, just a damned good carpenter who, when you give the order, can fix three thick wooden planks across the door on our side of the walkway in a matter of minutes, so the villains will be trapped inside the slaughter, leaving them with only one escape route—the front door. And by the time they realize that, we’ll be standing outside waiting for them.”
“Ingenious,” said Lamont. “But it still leaves us with the problem of what to do about the four lookouts on the ground, and the thug who controls the lift. By the time our boys are halfway up the stairs, Rashidi will be on his way down in the lift, and when he steps out on the ground floor, a picture of innocence, there will be no offense we can charge him with, and the whole operation will have failed. Because one thing’s for certain, the chairman of Marcel and Neffe won’t have any drugs on him.”
“Not if we can make sure the lift is stuck on the ground floor,” said Paul.
“How do you plan to do that, DC Adaja,” asked the Hawk, “when the moment I give the order to mount the operation, a dozen armed vehicles and squad cars will come roaring into the square, giving the lookouts more than enough time to warn Donoghue, who in turn will warn Rashidi? How do we get out of that one, Houdini?”
“We all have to be hidden in plain sight,” said William. “Although I must admit it took me several sleepless nights to figure out something that had been staring me in the face for the past month.” No one interrupted. “There’s no need for us to go charging in like John Wayne, all guns blazing, when we can drive up and park outside the front door without anyone giving us a second look.”
