Angry at himself, he checked the phone’s map. The minor roads not only weren’t on Street View; the satnav didn’t know them. He would have to navigate the old-fashioned way. Left, straight on, left, right. His destination should be about half a kilometre beyond the last junction. He set off again.
The drive did not take long. He passed more lavender fields, purple corrugations amongst the surrounding green. The road weaved down into a narrow valley before rising again. Left here. The broader valley south of Montsalier opened out before him. Now right, then around a tight, steep hairpin. The road took him along the edge of a crest.
His objective should be on the left, a short way downhill.
Reeve slowed, taking in the scenery. Bushes and small trees partially obscured what lay below. He glimpsed an ochre rooftop. That had to be it. A little farther on, and he passed a gate with a mailbox. Villa Mielena was written on it.
He was here.
Reeve continued past. Behind the bushes along the roadside was a fence. It turned downhill a hundred metres past the gate. The property’s boundary. Beyond it the land was more scrubby, almost wild.
He hadn’t seen any cameras watching the road, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. Another couple of hundred metres and he was beyond sight of the villa. He pulled over and got out. Cicadas chirped in the trees. The temperature was already in the twenties. It would top thirty Celsius by noon. Considerably better weather than England. No wonder Scott had a retreat down here.
Reeve picked his way through the bushes. Once in cover, he started back towards the villa. Before long, it came into sight.
A farmhouse stood fifty metres down the slope from the road. A south-facing stone terrace at its rear overlooked the valley. A long lawn ran downhill from the terrace. Beyond it was woodland.
No clear points of access that he could see. He needed to get nearer. Staying in the bushes, he advanced. He was already hot, but couldn’t take off his jacket; it was concealing the gun.
Thirty metres from the fence, he saw movement. A dog padded up the lawn; large, yellow. A Labrador or golden retriever. Maxwell had said Scott had a dog. Dogs, plural. Another animal, almost white, ambled out of the trees.
He slipped through the undergrowth until he neared the fence. The boundary was a sturdy wire mesh, over two metres tall. It stood out by its mere presence. None of the other properties he had passed were enclosed. You could tell Scott was British, Reeve thought. Everyone has to protect their own little patch of land . . .
Speaking of protection: was there CCTV? He cautiously leaned out to view the house. Yes; a ball-like camera was mounted on the side wall. If there was one, there would be others—
A dog barked. Not one of the two on the lawn. Closer. Reeve ducked back, peering through branches. He spotted the dog on the house’s north side, looking in his direction. Another Labrador, yellow like the first. It barked again. If it hadn’t seen him, it had certainly smelled him . . .
More movement – but this was no dog.
A side door opened, a figure peering out. A man, wearing light clothing. Scott. He called to the barking dog, then followed its gaze. Reeve froze. Had he been spotted? His hand crept towards the silenced Walther . . .
Scott spoke to the dog again, then retreated. The door closed. One last grumpy ruff, and the Lab trotted away to join its fellows.
Reeve waited for it to get well clear before moving again. The dogs would be a problem. Labradors didn’t make good attack animals, but would certainly warn of his presence. He would have to deal with them before entering the house.
If he could find a way to reach it unseen. He needed to continue his recce – without alerting the dogs. That meant skirting the grounds at a distance. It would take a while, but he had no choice. He withdrew, angling downhill.
Connie’s greeting when he returned to the hotel was icy. ‘Where have you been?’
‘Reconnoitring Scott’s villa,’ he replied. He was sweaty and tired, but wanted to stay cool and avoid a fight. ‘Looking for a way in without being seen.’
‘Did you find one?’
‘I think so.’ He went into the bathroom to wash his face and neck with cold water. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine.’ Her tone suggested otherwise.
‘I’m . . . I’m sorry.’
‘What about?’
‘Last night. That things went wrong.’
‘It’s okay.’ It wasn’t.
‘I didn’t mean to upset you, to . . .’ He returned to the bedroom. ‘Connie, you’re the only friend I’ve got. You’re the only person in the world who cares about me. And right now, I think I’ve even lost you. That’s not what I wanted to happen.’
She gave a sad shrug. ‘I believe you, Alex. But . . . you’re not the person I thought you were.’
Reeve remained silent, emotions churning. ‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated. ‘If you want to go home . . .’
‘I’ll still help you today,’ she said. But afterwards . . . I should leave.’
‘Okay. Thank you.’ Neither was quite able to look at the other. ‘All right. We need to check out.’
They quickly packed. ‘I’m ready,’ said Connie.
‘I need to go to a shop in town before we set off,’ he told her. ‘And the petrol station.’
‘But we filled up after we came off the autoroute.’
‘It’s not for the car.’ He collected his own belongings. ‘Let’s go.’
Reeve paid the bill, then they returned to the car park. The black Range Rover was still there. He now knew from experience that Stone’s minders could reach the villa in six minutes. Less, if they broke the speed limit.
He was counting on them doing so.
They loaded the car, then Reeve visited a shop. He returned with something wrapped in brown paper. ‘A packed lunch?’ Connie asked.
‘Not for me.’ They got into the Saxo, Reeve driving. He stopped at a small petrol station beyond the town square. The owner ambled out, but Reeve met him at the pumps. A brief discussion in French, then the owner went back inside. He returned with a plastic jerry can, then filled it with diesel.
Connie watched in confusion. ‘But my car’s petrol,’ she said, after Reeve paid.
‘Again, not for me,’ he replied.
She rolled her eyes. ‘Now you’re just being secretive to annoy me.’
They set off again. Reeve didn’t need to consult a map this time, the route memorised. Once they left the main road, they didn’t pass a single other vehicle.
He turned at the last junction, then stopped just beyond the hairpin. ‘Back in a minute,’ he said, collecting the jerry can.
‘Where are you going?’ asked Connie.
‘Making sure Scott’s bodyguards don’t turn up unexpectedly.’ He descended the hill, disappearing around the corner, then soon returned. He put the can back in the boot. ‘Okay, we’ll be there in a minute,’ he said, as he drove on. ‘Are you sure you still want to help me?’
‘Well, I’m here now,’ she said, faintly testy. ‘What do you need me to do?’
The Villa Mielena was a few hundred metres ahead. He stopped by an overgrown gate to the neighbouring land. ‘Wait for me here. Keep your phone ready. If I call you to pick me up, stop by the villa’s mailbox. If I call and tell you to go, then go. Don’t wait for me, just get away. If you don’t hear from me after an hour . . .’ He didn’t want to alarm her by saying he would probably be dead. ‘Head back home.’ He gave her Jammer’s credit card and a wad of euros.
She accepted them with disquiet. ‘You want me to leave you here?’
‘It’ll be safer for you. Oh, and if you hear gunshots? Get out of here immediately. Because they won’t be mine.’ He drew the PPK to show her the silencer.
‘Oh, shit,’ Connie gasped. ‘You’re not going to kill him, are you?’
‘If he’s dead, he can’t tell me anything,’ Reeve assured her. He opened the door. ‘Okay. I’m going.’ He hesitated, then put his hand on hers. She twitched, but didn’t pull away. ‘Thank you. For everything.’
She nodded. ‘Just . . . stay safe, Alex.’
‘I’ll try.’ A half-smile, then he collected the package and left the car.
Reeve looked towards the villa. The car was hidden from it by trees. He climbed over the gate. A last look back at Connie, then he started downhill.
CHAPTER 37
‘Doesn’t look like much,’ said Flynn, regarding the rain-slicked terraced house.
‘Doesn’t need to,’ Stone replied. ‘Roof over his head is all Reeve needs.’
‘You think he’s here?’
‘Soon find out.’ They both checked their concealed weapons, then got out of the Discovery.
Stone tried the buzzers by the front door. Nobody responded in flat B. He pushed the top button. A woman soon answered. ‘Hello?’
‘Metropolitan Police,’ Stone said brusquely. ‘Can we talk to you?’
‘Uh . . . okay.’ A clack, and the door’s lock released.
‘She sounded worried,’ he said, as they entered the shabby hall. ‘Maybe she knows something.’
They climbed the stairs. A young black woman holding a baby peered from a doorway. ‘Hello?’ she said. ‘Is something wrong?’
Stone took out his warrant card. ‘Detective Inspector Stone. This is DS Flynn.’ Flynn produced her own ID. ‘There was an incident here last Friday. A Mr Jahmir Haxhi was beaten up and hospitalised.’
Both watched her reaction closely. The woman was concerned, even fearful. A blink of confusion at the unfamiliar name, then realisation. ‘Oh, you mean Jammer? He’s the rent collector. No, I . . . I don’t know what happened to him. Sorry.’
Stone produced a notebook. ‘Can I have your name, miss?’
‘It’s Jaz. Jasmine. Jasmine Prince.’
‘Jas. Mine. Prince.’ He overenunciated each syllable as he wrote, not taking his eyes off hers. ‘The thing is, Miss Jasmine Prince, I’m pretty sure that you do know.’ He leaned closer; she shrank back. ‘Now, lying to a police officer is obstruction of justice. That’s a major charge. Could get you five, six years in prison. You wouldn’t want to not see your baby for six years, would you?’
Jaz looked at her child in alarm. ‘No, no! Of course not!’
‘Then tell us what you know,’ said Flynn.
‘It was—’ Jaz stopped, conflicted. Fear overpowered loyalty. ‘It was Alex. Connie’s friend. He – he helped us. My ex hit me, and Alex made him leave. Then Jammer hassled Mr Brownlow in the bottom flat, so Alex sorted him out too. Jammer came back the next day with some guys, and a gun. But Alex just—’ She tried to think of a suitable word. ‘Demolished them.’
Flynn and Stone exchanged glances. ‘What happened to the gun?’ Stone asked.
‘I don’t know. Jammer ran off with it, I guess. Alex went after him.’
‘Jammer won’t be running anywhere for a while,’ said Flynn. ‘What can you tell us about Connie?’
‘She’s nice, she’s a nurse. Older than me, about thirty?’
‘Do you know which hospital she works at?’ A shake of the head.
Stone snapped his notebook shut. ‘Okay, Miss Prince. That’ll be all for now. But remember,’ he added as she turned away, ‘lying to the police is a crime.’ He jabbed a finger at her. ‘Don’t do it again.’
‘No, I – I won’t,’ Jaz gabbled. ‘I’m sorry. Sorry.’ She hurriedly closed the door.
Flynn shook her head. ‘You enjoyed that, didn’t you?’
‘You have to remind these people who’s boss. All right, so Reeve was here. Kick the flat open and see if he still is?’
‘Maybe see if this Brownlow’s at home first,’ she suggested.
They trooped down to the bottom flat. A middle-aged man answered their knock. Like Jaz, he seemed startled, then worried at seeing the police. Stone got straight to the point. ‘We need to ask you about Alex Reeve.’
‘I, ah . . .’ Brownlow seemed about to deny any knowledge, but thought better of it. ‘Yes, Connie’s friend. What about him?’
‘He’s alleged to have violently assaulted a man. Do you know where he is?’
‘No, but – but it was self-defence,’ Brownlow insisted. ‘Jammer was going to kill him! Alex helped me. Jammer was smashing up my flat, and Alex stopped him.’
‘Why was he smashing up your flat?’ asked Flynn.
Brownlow immediately became evasive. ‘It was, er, an argument over the rent.’
Stone decided not to waste time. He pushed past Brownlow. ‘Mind if we come in?’
‘What?’ the older man spluttered. ‘No, wait, you – you can’t just barge in!’
Stone gave him a menacing look. ‘You going to stop me?’ Brownlow shrank back. The Operative surveyed the flat, then spotted something. ‘Bullet hole,’ he told Flynn.
She looked for herself. ‘Been playing with firearms, have we, sir?’
‘That was Jammer!’ Brownlow protested. ‘Alex beat him up even though he had a gun.’
‘So where’s Alex now?’ demanded Stone. ‘Is he still in Connie’s flat?’
‘No, he’s gone. They both came back on Saturday, but just for a few minutes.’
‘And do you know where he went?’ asked Flynn.
‘No – no,’ he repeated, more firmly. Defiantly? ‘I don’t know where he is.’
Stone advanced, intimidating Brownlow with his size. ‘Concealing information can be regarded as obstruction of justice.’
‘I really don’t know!’ the older man insisted. ‘The last time I saw them was Saturday.’
Stone was about to push further, but Flynn spoke first. ‘What’s Connie’s surname, please?’
‘Jones, I think. Yes, I’m pretty sure. I’ve seen her post in the hall.’
‘Okay. We’ll be going now,’ she told Stone pointedly.
He followed her out. Once they reached the hall, Stone expressed his displeasure. ‘What the fuck are you doing? He was obviously lying. He knows more about Reeve.’
Flynn checked the pile of mail on the windowsill. Junk, some addressed to G. C./Connie/Constantia Jones. ‘He was telling the truth – that he doesn’t know where Reeve is right now. He’s gone off somewhere with this nurse. Which explains why he didn’t show up at any hospitals. She must have patched him up.’
Stone frowned. ‘How the fuck did he persuade her to do that?’
‘His natural seductive charm.’ They both chuckled sarcastically. ‘She’s helping him, and they’ve gone . . . somewhere. But we’ve got her name and address. We can find out if she’s got a car. If she has, the number-plate cameras will have tracked it.’
‘If they’re still in London.’
‘Where else would he go?’ The question made them both uncomfortable. If Reeve was no longer trying to reach Maxwell, what was his new objective? ‘Anyway, let’s report in.’
They went back to the Discovery and updated their superior by phone. ‘Okay, I’ll see what comes up for this Connie Jones,’ said Maxwell.
‘What should we do now?’ asked Stone. ‘Stake out the house?’
‘No,’ Maxwell replied. ‘From what you said, I’m sure Jasmine or Brownlow will warn him you called. He won’t come back if he knows we’ve tracked him there. I’m surprised he went back at all.’
‘Maybe he left something he needed,’ suggested Flynn.
‘So why not just ask Connie to bring it?’ None of them had an answer. ‘I’ve got to report to the boss later today. I can ask him to get GCHQ to track any calls they make. Might give us Reeve’s location. For now, though . . .’ Maxwell let out a concerned breath. ‘We need a new plan. We’ve lost him.’
CHAPTER 38
Staying in cover, Reeve made his way downhill to the villa’s southern boundary. That morning, he had found a tree with a bough extending over the fence. He located it and scaled the trunk. His wounded arm throbbed as muscles stretched, but he ignored it. Cicadas chirped above, but the only creatures concerning him were the dogs.
None were in sight. He sidestepped along the branch, then dropped down. Inside the fence, there was less undergrowth – less cover. Scott must have had it cleared. He looked uphill through the trees. One of the dogs lay in shade at the bottom of the lawn.
He would have to pass it to reach the house. Long before then, it would smell him – and bark at the intruder. Scott’s appearance earlier meant he trusted his pets as early warning systems. They had to be silenced . . .
Reeve unwrapped the parcel. Inside were what he had bought from a boucherie: several pieces of raw beef.
The dog raised its head. It had heard the paper crackling, or picked up the scent. Either way, it would soon investigate—
Soon was now. The Labrador jumped up and barked, then started through the trees towards him.
Reeve stayed in cover, watching the villa. The dog came closer – then a figure appeared in a doorway.
Scott. He was shaded, hard to see clearly – but definitely staring downhill. Reeve remained stationary. The dog barked again. Another animal responded from somewhere out of sight.
He took out a piece of meat, then tossed it a short way uphill. The dog approached. Its attention had gone to the beef. ‘Good dog,’ Reeve whispered. ‘Have a treat.’ It sniffed the slice, then started to eat. He looked past it. Scott was still in the doorway. Two more Labradors trotted down the long lawn. One barked questioningly. Reeve sent two more pieces after the first, spacing them out. The newcomers investigated, beginning their free meal.
Their owner remained in place. Reeve began to worry. He’d hoped Scott would dismiss the barks as a false alarm. He had three more pieces of meat, but wanted the Labs to come to him. That would have let him befriend them. But if Scott kept watching, he would become suspicious of their behaviour . . .
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