‘Will do.’
It took thirty seconds for John’s reply to come through.
‘They’re all dead,’ John called anxiously.
‘I’ve got a signal on one,’ Dave said.
‘If they’re all down, it must be a problem with the booster aerial that relays the signal up to the satellite. Where did you hide it?’
‘On the cabin roof,’ Dave said.
‘Is Leon there yet?’
Dave looked at his watch. ‘Not for eight to ten minutes, I reckon.’
‘Do you think you’ve got time to get up on the roof and have a go at fixing it?’
‘I can try,’ Dave said. ‘But I’ll have some explaining to do if he turns up early.’
‘We’re dead in the water if we can’t get Leon’s conversations on tape. You’ll have to risk it.’
Dave anxiously checked his watch and tucked the Palm Pilot and two-way radio into his shorts. He grabbed a dustbin from near the entrance of the lot and dragged it up to the cabin. He stood on the lid, then hauled himself on to the corrugated metal roof.
It wasn’t a nice place to be, but as he clambered over the moss and bird droppings, he could at least identify the cause of the problem: some drunk had lobbed an empty vodka bottle on to the roof of the cabin, knocking the stubby grey booster aerial out of its mounting bracket.
Dave clicked it into place, then pulled the Palm Pilot out of his pocket and scanned quickly through the five transmission frequencies. They were all back at full strength.
He crawled towards the dustbin to get down, but as he did he noticed Pete getting out of the passenger door of his uncle’s Jaguar to open the gate. There was no way he’d be able to clamber down before being seen.
09:07
John was delighted to see the signal graphs from the bugs on Tarasov’s car lot shoot back into the green.
‘Looks like he’s fixed it,’ John said to Chloe. ‘Good lad.’
Michael Patel had been on hold for nine minutes, getting more and more ratty as the calling system repeated its loop. Chloe finally decided to put him out of his misery and grabbed a telephone handset, which was rigged up to the computer in front of her.
‘Good morning, this is Chloe speaking. Auto Club would like to apologise for the delay in answering your call this morning. Can I have your name and membership number please?’
While Chloe took down the details of the problem with Michael’s car, John had moved into the bedroom. He unbuttoned his shirt, stepped out of his trousers and grabbed a yellow and blue Auto Club uniform out of his wardrobe.
32. PICKLE
09:11
Dave lay flat against the corrugated rooftop, with his nose uncomfortably close to a fresh splat of birdlime. Pete and Leon stood by the gate looking up and down the street.
‘Dave must have unlocked,’ Leon said angrily. ‘Nobody else has keys. But where’s the little idiot legged it to?’
Dave heard the conversation continue as Pete followed his uncle into the cabin.
‘Look,’ Leon said. ‘The kettle’s hot.’
‘I checked in the toilet,’ Pete said.
Dave couldn’t climb down on to the bin without being seen through the cabin window. He realised his only chance was to drop off the back of the roof into the derelict builders’ yard next door. He crawled furtively, knowing that he was only separated from Leon and Pete’s heads by forty centimetres and a sheet of wobbly metal that amplified every noise he made.
When he got to the rear edge, Dave slid his legs over the side before dropping down into a tangle of weeds. He narrowly missed clattering into a set of rusted paint cans as he stumbled forwards, then swept most of the dirt off his clothes. He set off towards the street, keeping low to avoid being spotted through the wire by Leon or Pete.
There were a couple of missing planks in the wooden fence along the front of the yard. After checking that nobody was coming, he trampled down some stinging nettles, pulled in his stomach and squeezed through the gap on to the street. Dave realised he needed an excuse for leaving, so instead of heading straight back he ducked into the newsagents and caught his breath as he queued up to buy a newspaper and a pint of milk.
He strolled on to the lot a couple of minutes later, trying to look innocent as Leon exploded out of the door of his cabin.
‘Morning, boss,’ Dave said.
‘What sort of prick are you?’ Leon yelled as stood in the doorway. ‘Get in here.’
Dave acted dumb as he stepped into the cabin. ‘What?’
Leon slammed the door. ‘What? What? I drive in here and I find that everywhere’s unlocked and you’ve legged it, that’s what. There’s over a hundred grand’s worth of cars here. Are you off your head or something?’
Dave jiggled the pint of milk. ‘I thought we might run out later in the day.’
‘You mean to say we haven’t even run out?’ Leon shouted. ‘Did your mother drop you on your head when you were a baby or something? Give me your keys back, right now.’
‘Come on Leon. I just got chatting to Mr Singh in the newsagents and lost track of time. The car keys were all locked in your safe and I was only gone for five minutes.’
‘Keys,’ Leon repeated.
Dave got the keys out of his shorts and dangled them in front of Leon. ‘I’m really sorry, boss.’
‘Count yourself lucky,’ Leon said, as he snatched them. ‘You do something as dumb as that again and you’ll be out of a job.’
‘You’ve been really good to me, Leon. I swear it won’t happen again.’
Leon flicked Dave away with his hand. ‘You’d better get out there and make yourself look busy before I really lose my temper. Start off with the Mini. That time-waster had his kids in the back yesterday afternoon. There’s handprints all over the windows.’
09:49
John pulled on to the Patels’ driveway and blasted the horn of his yellow and blue recovery truck.
‘Hello, Mr Patel?’ John said, jumping down from the cab as Michael came out of his front door. ‘Is this the vehicle with the problem?’
Michael nodded. ‘Yeah, the wife was taking my daughter to nursery this morning and it wouldn’t start. It’s as dead as a doornail.’
‘Was there any sign of a problem before this morning: squeaks, rattles, high oil consumption?’
Michael shook his head. ‘I’ve had the car just over six months and this is the first glitch we’ve had.’
John nodded, as Michael handed him the car keys. ‘Nice cars, BMWs. All the fancy gizmos go wrong now and then, but we still don’t get to see many of them.’
John leaned under the steering wheel and popped the bonnet open. He spent a couple of minutes under the hood, waggling the dipstick and pretending that he knew what he was doing, before looking up at Michael.
‘Was this car ever in an accident?’ John asked.
Michael shook his head. ‘Not that I know of. What makes you ask that?’
‘There’s a lot of paint spattered inside here, like it’s been resprayed. Did you get a mechanical inspection before you bought the vehicle?’
‘I didn’t think I needed one. The dealer I got it from is an old mate of mine.’
John smiled a little, knowing that the microphone in the van had just recorded Michael admitting his friendship with Leon Tarasov.
‘This car has had a heck of a lot of repair work done on it,’ John explained. ‘Come and look here. You see those bolts in the bottom of the engine bay?’
Michael leaned under the bonnet.
‘You see how the paint has pooled inside the heads? That would never happen in the factory, because the engine is fitted after the bodywork is painted. It means that a large area of the car has been resprayed at some point.’
Michael looked shocked. ‘How much damage are we talking about here?’
‘It’s hard to be sure,’ John said. ‘But I can certainly see all the signs of a big smash-up. Do you mind if I look in the back?’
‘Not at al
l,’ Michael said anxiously. ‘What for?’
‘I want to see if there’s any evidence of respraying at that end too.’
John popped the boot and made an ah-haah noise.
‘Mr Patel, I have to say I’m starting to feel extremely concerned about the history of this car.’
John tore up a corner of the carpet lining the boot, revealing patches of red paint.
‘A silver car with patches of red paint in the boot,’ John said suspiciously.
Michael Patel had worked as a cop for long enough to know what this meant. ‘Are you telling me this car is a cut-and-shut?’
‘Or something along those lines,’ John nodded, as he ran his finger over a bump where the rear pillar joined the boot sill. ‘This weld looks more like the work of some bloke in a back alley body shop, instead of a high-precision robot in a BMW factory.’
Michael Patel was breathing hard and his face looked gaunt.
‘The front appears to have been heavily resprayed in its original silver and the back end clearly has parts that originally belonged to another vehicle that was painted red,’ John continued. ‘I’m afraid what you have is the front and rear portions of two different BMWs that were involved in serious accidents. The good bits from each car have been crudely patched together.’
‘I know what a cut-and-shut is,’ Michael said bitterly.
‘It’s an impressive piece of work,’ John said. ‘There’s no obvious joins on the exterior bodywork. Although if you jacked her up, I’m sure you’d find clues underneath. They tend not to be so thorough prettying up the bits that are out of sight.’
‘These things are death traps,’ Michael said, shaking his head. ‘My wife and daughter have been driving around in this crate …’
‘Absolutely,’ John nodded. ‘A cut-and-shut car has nothing like the structural strength of the original vehicle. If you’d been involved in an accident, this whole lot might easily have snapped in two. Do you have details of where you bought it?’
‘I’ve got a receipt inside the house. But, like I say, I bought the car off a man I thought I could trust. I can’t believe that he’d do this to me.’
‘I’m going to have to inform the police about this,’ John said. ‘I could probably get the car running again, but I’m obviously not prepared to do that. This vehicle isn’t fit to be on the road.’
Michael suddenly looked even more stressed, which delighted John. His whole plan was based on the assumption that Michael wouldn’t like the idea of the police coming between him and Leon Tarasov.
‘No, no,’ Michael said, waving his arms and sounding panicky. ‘You don’t need to call the police.’
‘I’m afraid I have to,’ John said. ‘I’m sure you’re an honest man Mr Patel, but some people who’ve been caught out like this cut their losses by getting the car repaired and then selling it on to the next unsuspecting punter through a classified ad. It’s Auto Club policy to inform the police as soon as we discover a potentially dangerous vehicle.’
‘No,’ Michael said, with a hint of desperation. ‘You see, I’m a cop myself. I’ll show you my ID.’
Michael dashed into the house and grabbed his warrant card out of his jacket. By the time he’d got back, he’d thought up an excuse.
‘You see,’ Michael said, as John inspected the badge, ‘this will come through to the vehicle crime unit at my station. I’ll be a complete laughing stock if this gets out. But I’ve got a mate who works in motor vehicles. He’ll help me save my blushes, you understand?’
John scratched his chin like he was thinking it over. ‘Well, Mr Patel, my obligation is to tell the police and I suppose you are the police.’
‘That’s right.’ Michael looked relieved. ‘And I bet it saves you some hassle if it’s done this way as well.’
John grinned. ‘Yes, a bit.’
‘Great,’ Michael said.
‘I guess that there’s no reason for me to stick around then,’ John said.
Michael reached out and shook John’s hand. John headed back to his recovery truck. He grabbed his two-way radio off the passenger seat as he drove away.
‘Did you catch all that, Chloe?’ John asked cheerfully. ‘Do you think I pulled it off?’
Chloe came back laughing. ‘Yeah, bang-up job John. I reckon our Mr Patel is going to be out gunning for Leon Tarasov any minute now.’
10:11
Lauren and Kerry stepped out of the lift into the seventeenth-floor corridor. Lauren was holding her tummy.
‘I ate too much breakfast,’ she groaned. ‘One of these days I’m gonna work out that all you can eat buffet doesn’t mean you have to eat all of it.’
The girls had an air of excitement about them as Kerry grabbed a room key from her wallet. She tutted as she flicked away a piece of popcorn.
‘How the hell did it get in there? That’s James and his stupid popcorn fight.’
‘We started on him,’ Lauren reminded her.
Kerry grinned as she pushed the heavy room door. They kept the noise down as they stepped through to the adjoining room, in case Chloe was on the phone or something.
‘Hello girls. All washed and fed now?’ Chloe asked.
‘Overfed,’ Lauren said. ‘What did we miss? Has John gone out yet?’
‘He’s already on his way back.’
Kerry looked at her watch. ‘That was quick. Did Patel buy the cut-and-shut ruse?’
‘Hook, line and sinker,’ Chloe grinned. ‘The duplicate car worked a treat. I just taped a phone call between Michael and Patricia’s mobiles. She was in the hairdressers, so she couldn’t go too nuts, but you could tell how mad she was. She was screaming at Michael, telling him to speak to Leon and demand their seventeen grand back. And listen to this.’
Chloe hit a volume slider on her computer screen so that the sound from the Patels’ house came out through the speakers.
‘This is the live feed,’ Chloe explained.
Michael was pacing around, breathing furiously and occasionally pounding on something.
‘Why doesn’t he ring Leon, or go to see him?’ Lauren asked.
Chloe shrugged. ‘I guess he’s trying to work out what to say.’
A red warning box popped up on Chloe’s computer: Wiretap Six: dialling. The numbers appeared on screen a fraction of a second after Michael Patel hit them. By the time he’d dialled the area code and the first two numbers, they knew it was going to be Tarasov.
Kerry grinned at Lauren. ‘Stand by for fireworks.’
33. SPARKS
10:15
A couple of ex-fleet cars had come in from auction and Dave was vacuuming the interiors when Pete stuck his head out of the cabin holding a cordless phone to his ear.
‘You seen Leon?’
Dave pointed towards the brick-built toilet. Pete walked over and slid the handset under the door to his uncle. Leon put down his Racing Post and picked the phone off the floor.
‘Yeah, Leon Tarasov speaking.’
‘You’re lucky I don’t kill you,’ Michael screamed. ‘I just had the Auto Club out looking at my BMW and the mother is cut-and-shut.’
Michael’s voice was so stressed that Leon didn’t recognise it. ‘Why don’t you calm down and start at the beginning, chum? Who am I speaking to?’
‘It’s me, Leon, and I just became your worst nightmare.’
‘Mike, is that you? What the hell’s the matter?’
‘Like you don’t know. That BMW you sold me is junk. The mechanic ripped up the carpet in the back and it’s full of red paint. The other end’s been resprayed and there’s botched welds all over the shop.’
‘Mike, do you think I’d be stupid enough to sell a cut-and-shut car to a cop? The Auto Club guy must have been a trainee or something. I got that car out of a BMW dealership that had too much stock on its hands. Corporate owner, full service history. The only reason I didn’t have it for my own wife was because I knew you were on the lookout for a five-three-five.’
‘Don’t li
e to me, Leon. I have eyes in my head. I want my seventeen grand back.’
‘Are you in debt again, Mike? Because if this is some dumb attempt to shake me down, you can go and shove your thumb up your butthole. I ain’t buying it.’
‘Don’t wind me up, Leon. You charged me seventeen grand for a heap of crap and you damn well know it.’
Leon couldn’t believe the bizarre turn his day had taken, as he sat with his trousers around his ankles, grinding a palm against his head. ‘Look Mike, I haven’t got a clue what the problem is. So why don’t you calm yourself down and talk me through it.’
‘I told you twice already. The Auto Club guy showed me inside the engine bay. He tore up the carpet and showed me red paint in the boot.’
‘Mike, I don’t know what you’ve seen, but I swear on my kids’ lives that I didn’t sell you a cut-and-shut car. Now calm yourself down and let’s try to sort this out. How long have you had the car?’
‘Just under seven months.’
‘Have you had it serviced?’
‘It’s due, but I haven’t got around to booking it.’
‘Right,’ Leon said, trying to keep himself from blowing his stack. ‘Technically you’re out of warranty, but seeing as you’re a mate I’ll try and sort this out. I know a good guy who used to work for a main dealer. I’ll send him over to look at your car and I’ll even cover the labour and towing charges. You’ll just have to pay for the parts.’
‘Have you heard one word, Leon? You can’t pull the wool over my eyes. You’ve sold me two bits of junk welded together to make a death trap. My wife and my kid could have been killed. If it was anyone but you, I’d already have had the law out tearing apart every car on your lot.
‘I’ve got to go to a meeting at the community centre this morning. When I come out, I’m gonna head straight to your cabin. I expect my seventeen grand back and after that I never want to see you again. And don’t go expecting any more favours from me, or any other cops at Palm Hill from now on.’
‘Seriously Mike, are you having mental problems?’ Leon yelled, finally losing his cool. ‘You’re a cop. You’ve got a wife and a kid and you’re acting like a complete nut. I thought you were gonna straighten yourself out after the casino deal.’
The Killing Page 21