Nothing Ventured Read online

  William swung quickly around when the door behind him opened. He knew it couldn’t be Jackie.

  ‘I’m so sorry, sir,’ said a maid. ‘Would you like me to make up the room?’

  ‘No, thank you,’ said William, who quickly stood up, making sure the binoculars were out of sight. When the door closed, he disobeyed Jackie’s orders and began to nibble on a biscuit, before returning to his post. He turned his attention back to the shed and could just make out what looked like a workbench, and a crouched figure working on something, but on what?

  About an hour later, Carter emerged from the shed and made his way back into the house. He’d only been inside for a few moments before he reappeared in the front room and once again settled down in the armchair.

  William was beginning to understand what Jackie had meant when she’d said there would be endless hours of tedium, with little to show for it. He’d only spent a couple of hours keeping an eye on Carter and he was already bored. When Carter dozed off in his armchair, William felt like doing the same.

  The door behind him opened a second time and he turned round to see Jackie, holding a carrier bag.

  ‘Seen anything worth reporting?’ she asked, as she stared at a plate of biscuit crumbs.

  ‘Carter left the house to go into his shed, and spent an hour there. I think he was working on something, but I couldn’t make out what it was.’

  ‘Then it will be our job to find out tomorrow. I’ve briefed the local intelligence officer on what we’re up to. Good lad, if a little sensitive about the Met straying onto his patch without warning. He’s well aware of Carter’s past record – in fact, he’s a pro now. But to date he’s given him no trouble. A model citizen in fact. He does a bit of engraving for one or two of the local schools and sports clubs, although he claims he’s retired.’

  ‘“Criminals never retire”,’ said William, ‘“they just get more cunning.”’

  ‘The Hawk?’

  ‘No, Fred Yates. So, are you going to take over up here, while I go down and have a closer look?’

  ‘Sure. If Carter comes out of the house, follow him. But if he drops into his local, don’t join him. You’ll stick out like a sore thumb.’

  ‘And when do you want me to come back?’

  ‘Around midnight, then you can catch some sleep while I do the night shift. I left some sandwiches in the car for you, but now I wish I’d eaten them,’ said Jackie, once again glaring at the biscuit crumbs.

  ‘Sorry,’ said William. ‘I’m sure there must be something in the fridge.’

  ‘Which will only be added to our bill, and I don’t have to remind you, detective constable, that we’re not on holiday.’

  William slipped out of the room, drove back into town and parked between two cars on the far side of Mulberry Avenue, from where he had a clear view of the house. Just after eleven, he saw the light on the ground floor go off and moments later an upstairs light was switched on. Twenty minutes later the house was in complete darkness.

  He took his time munching the sandwiches, feeling more guilty with every bite. Fearing he would fall asleep, he tried various ways of staying awake, including reciting Tennyson’s Morte d’Arthur, singing ‘Nessun Dorma’ out of tune, and recalling the top ten Test batting averages of all time – Bradman 99.94, Pollock 60.97, Headley . . .

  At midnight, he drove back to the hotel to find Jackie already up and ready to take his place.

  ‘Anything of interest?’ she asked.

  ‘He watched television, had supper, watched some more TV, and went upstairs to bed just after eleven. Twenty minutes later the lights went out.’

  ‘It doesn’t get much better than that,’ said Jackie. ‘And the midnight shift is by far the worst one. It’s so easy to fall asleep, and if you do, you can be sure that Volvo won’t be in the drive when you wake up.’

  ‘Doing nothing is exhausting,’ said William as he handed over the car keys.

  ‘You’ll be on the midnight shift tomorrow, so make sure you get a good night’s sleep,’ were Jackie’s final words before leaving.

  William got undressed, took a shower and climbed into a warm bed. It made him think about Beth. Hell, he hadn’t called her, and now it was too late. Moments later he was fast asleep.

  15

  WILLIAM WOKE JUST after seven the next morning, took a shower, shaved and was dressed by the time Jackie returned following her night vigil. They sat in the bay window enjoying a large breakfast of bacon and eggs, while still keeping an eye on the house. Carter didn’t come downstairs until after nine, and they had no way of knowing what he had for breakfast, as his kitchen was at the back of the house.

  ‘So what now?’

  ‘We’ll return to Mulberry Avenue and hope he leaves the house at some point. If it’s by car, we’ll follow him. If it’s on foot, I’ll stay in the car while you try to find out what he’s been up to in that shed. Perhaps it’s totally innocent, but Lamont will still want to know.’

  Twenty minutes later they were parked on the other side of the road from Carter’s house, some thirty yards from his front gate, their eyes never leaving the front door.

  ‘This is pointless,’ said William after another futile hour spent discussing everything from Princess Diana’s proposed visit to Scotland Yard, to who would be the next commissioner.

  ‘Is the Hawk in with a chance?’ asked William.

  ‘Not this time round,’ said Jackie. ‘But possibly at some time in the future, although he has his enemies.’

  Another hour slunk by, before William said, ‘What happened to that guy who was with you when I first saw the copy of—’

  ‘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