it,’ Sheenan said. ‘As soon as you suspect you’re going to be taken to a place where serious offences are going to be committed, you call me. If we’ve got enough time I’ll send one of my technical bods to immobilize Conway’s motor.’
‘And I’ll get you something nice that Conway’ll want to be seen in,’ Chopra added. ‘We’ll get the techies to rig the tracker so it’s armed at the same time as the alarm gets switched on. When you get to the venue where the kids are waiting just press the key fob as if you’re arming the alarm. Nobody should suspect anything. Happy?’
‘As happy as I can be,’ Sean answered.
‘Good,’ Sheenan said. ‘Now all we need is for him to contact you.’
‘He will,’ Sean assured them.
‘Really? Sheenan asked. ‘How come you’re so sure?’
‘Because I promised him what I know he really wants.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘Runaways,’ he told them. ‘Kids no one cares about.’
‘Jesus,’ Chopra told him. ‘Whatever you do, Sean, make sure that bit’s missing from your evidence when you finally write it up. If the CPS see anything like
agent provocateur
, this case is over before it begins.’
‘Don’t worry,’ he assured them sipping his drink, ‘it never happened.’
Chapter Six
Alone in the ever-shrinking flat, Sean felt the walls crushing in on him. It had been four days since the meeting in the pub and still no word from Conway or The Sanctum. He tried to calculate the amount of days he’d been on the deployment for – feeling a little more like Justin Cramer with each passing day. He stared out of the small kitchen window waiting for the September sunset to arrive. After dark he planned to take a long walk to clear his head and remind himself of who he was. He’d phone Kate from a pay-phone if he could find one that was still working.
The mobile phone Conway had given him suddenly started vibrating on the kitchen table, not a call but a text message. He watched the phone suspiciously, unsure now if he’d really seen it jumping around, until it vibrated once more, demanding to be read. He grabbed the phone before it could escape and read the one and only message it had ever received. Meet me tomorrow. 4pm. At the sports ground at the end of Wetheral Drive, Belmont. Come alone. JC. He stared at the message for an age, dozens of scenarios dancing in his mind like some kind of kaleidoscopic nightmare until at last his thoughts cleared. ‘Belmont? Where the fuck is Belmont?’ he asked the empty room.
Within a few seconds he was heading for the bedroom, lying on the floor and sliding under the unmade single bed, searching for the slit in its underside and pushing his hand inside the mattress base, fishing blindly and impatiently until he touched hard, cold plastic. He pulled out the mobile phone that Chopra had concealed inside the flat when the operation first went live – only to be used when Sean absolutely had to check in with SO10 or relay important new information. This was one of those times. Having first checked the phone’s ringer was still on silent mode he punched the number for Chopra’s mobile into the keypad and waited for an answer.
‘Hello,’ Chopra answered cautiously.
‘It’s me.’
‘Contact?’
‘Yeah – just now – a text message with a meeting place and time.’
‘Where and when?’
‘Wetheral Drive in some place called Belmont at 4pm tomorrow.’
‘Belmont – it’s in North London, near Wealdstone.’
‘I’m a South London boy – remember?’
‘Buy an A to Z.’
‘Thanks – I already have one. Listen, I think this could be what we’ve been waiting for.’
‘I hope you’re right.’
‘I need the car with the tracker.’
‘I’ll send it around tonight with a techie to explain the finer points. Meet him at the main gates to Highgate Cemetery in a couple of hours. He’ll be driving a big old Ford Zodiac in pristine condition. Should appeal to Conway.’
‘Christ, where did
‘And I’ll get you something nice that Conway’ll want to be seen in,’ Chopra added. ‘We’ll get the techies to rig the tracker so it’s armed at the same time as the alarm gets switched on. When you get to the venue where the kids are waiting just press the key fob as if you’re arming the alarm. Nobody should suspect anything. Happy?’
‘As happy as I can be,’ Sean answered.
‘Good,’ Sheenan said. ‘Now all we need is for him to contact you.’
‘He will,’ Sean assured them.
‘Really? Sheenan asked. ‘How come you’re so sure?’
‘Because I promised him what I know he really wants.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘Runaways,’ he told them. ‘Kids no one cares about.’
‘Jesus,’ Chopra told him. ‘Whatever you do, Sean, make sure that bit’s missing from your evidence when you finally write it up. If the CPS see anything like
agent provocateur
, this case is over before it begins.’
‘Don’t worry,’ he assured them sipping his drink, ‘it never happened.’
Chapter Six
Alone in the ever-shrinking flat, Sean felt the walls crushing in on him. It had been four days since the meeting in the pub and still no word from Conway or The Sanctum. He tried to calculate the amount of days he’d been on the deployment for – feeling a little more like Justin Cramer with each passing day. He stared out of the small kitchen window waiting for the September sunset to arrive. After dark he planned to take a long walk to clear his head and remind himself of who he was. He’d phone Kate from a pay-phone if he could find one that was still working.
The mobile phone Conway had given him suddenly started vibrating on the kitchen table, not a call but a text message. He watched the phone suspiciously, unsure now if he’d really seen it jumping around, until it vibrated once more, demanding to be read. He grabbed the phone before it could escape and read the one and only message it had ever received. Meet me tomorrow. 4pm. At the sports ground at the end of Wetheral Drive, Belmont. Come alone. JC. He stared at the message for an age, dozens of scenarios dancing in his mind like some kind of kaleidoscopic nightmare until at last his thoughts cleared. ‘Belmont? Where the fuck is Belmont?’ he asked the empty room.
Within a few seconds he was heading for the bedroom, lying on the floor and sliding under the unmade single bed, searching for the slit in its underside and pushing his hand inside the mattress base, fishing blindly and impatiently until he touched hard, cold plastic. He pulled out the mobile phone that Chopra had concealed inside the flat when the operation first went live – only to be used when Sean absolutely had to check in with SO10 or relay important new information. This was one of those times. Having first checked the phone’s ringer was still on silent mode he punched the number for Chopra’s mobile into the keypad and waited for an answer.
‘Hello,’ Chopra answered cautiously.
‘It’s me.’
‘Contact?’
‘Yeah – just now – a text message with a meeting place and time.’
‘Where and when?’
‘Wetheral Drive in some place called Belmont at 4pm tomorrow.’
‘Belmont – it’s in North London, near Wealdstone.’
‘I’m a South London boy – remember?’
‘Buy an A to Z.’
‘Thanks – I already have one. Listen, I think this could be what we’ve been waiting for.’
‘I hope you’re right.’
‘I need the car with the tracker.’
‘I’ll send it around tonight with a techie to explain the finer points. Meet him at the main gates to Highgate Cemetery in a couple of hours. He’ll be driving a big old Ford Zodiac in pristine condition. Should appeal to Conway.’
‘Christ, where did
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