“In May 1964, her father returned to Belfast for his eldest brother’s funeral. There was a gun battle between the UVF and the army, and he was killed in the crossfire. It isn’t clear if the shooter was UVF or a British soldier. Natalie was only sixteen at the time and the loss of her father was undoubtedly traumatic. Not long after that, her mother committed suicide. It would seem those two incidents were the turning point in her life.”
“So she must have already been recruited as a sleeper when she joined the Met?”
Church nodded and continued to eat the remainder of his fish and chips at an incredibly fast rate. Jane found them rather greasy and soggy.
Jane was shocked at the thought. “It’s frightening. If she hadn’t caused a scene and been kicked out of Hendon, she could have made detective by now.”
“Yep and the inside information she could have given the IRA would be immense.” Church wrapped up his last few remaining chips in the newspaper. “We can only surmise that she became involved thanks to her cousin, who we now know to be an active member of the IRA, and it may have been as far back as her father’s death that she became a sleeper. She had all those jobs she told you about before she joined as a trainee at the bank—Have you got any sugar?”
Jane got off the stool and found the sugar. Church added three spoonfuls to his tea before continuing.
“Natalie was a cashier at the bank—that’s a very useful position for an underground organization. She could be used by the ASU to pass communications while her contact was cashing checks, for example. But as yet we have not seen anything subversive or suspicious at the bank.”
Jane sighed. “She may have told the truth about working at the bank, but I suspect what she told me about working on a cruise ship and her cordon bleu course was all lies.”
“Probably.” Church crumpled up the greasy newspaper that had contained his fish and chips. “I want you at the Yard in the morning for a 11am briefing in the main conference hall. Go to Crowley’s office first at half ten, okay?”
Jane nodded. “What’s it about, sir?”
“You’ll find out when you get there, but it’s nothing to worry about. See you in the morning.” He finished his tea and left.
Crowley seemed to be in a permanent bad mood these days. As Jane sat on the edge of the chair in front of his desk, forcing herself to maintain eye-contact, she tried to forget that she was usually the cause of it.
“I believe DCI Church informed you of his squad’s fuck-up yesterday,” he said sharply.
“Yes, sir. Have they found Natalie yet?”
“No they haven’t, but we’d all better pray they do—and soon!”
“Yes, sir.”
“We ran some checks at St. Thomas’ Hospital regarding births on the day you say Natalie Wilde was there. We spoke with the four women who had a baby and not one of them knew her. There were two on the previous day but ditto, and the staff couldn’t recall anyone visiting the maternity ward who fitted Natalie’s description.”
He opened a thick file on his desk. “These are surveillance photographs of people passing her flat, and during her time at the bank the day she went sick. We have not had any recognition from our team, but they photographed everyone entering and leaving the bank. Have a look through them and see if you recognize anyone.”
Jane looked through the stack of photographs but eventually shook her head and said she did not know or recognize any one.
“Do you have enough evidence to arrest her?”
“If I knew where she bloody well was, then yes. But what we don’t want to do is tip off her contacts. IF we find her we could grab her off the street, or even at her flat, but that might jeopardize our tracking down who she’s working with. So we’re waiting in the hope we find her or she returns to her flat.”
Crowley lit a cigarette, stood up and, checking his watch, gestured for Jane to accompany him. “Come on, time to go.”
Jane was surprised at just how many officers were attached to the surveillance operation as various uniform, plain clothes and undercover officers began filtering into the conference hall. On the small raised podium, there was a large notice board covered with all the surveillance photographs taken outside the Belsize Park flat and the bank, which Jane had already seen. There were also numerous shots of the dress hire property, and the hospital reception area. A lot of work had been done to cover Natalie’s every move. As Jane tried to slip into a seat at the back of the room Crowley called out loudly to her.
“DC Tennison, please come up to the podium.”
Jane flushed as she stepped up to sit beside him.
“Right, everyone: an update on the Natalie Wilde case. Her whereabouts are at present unknown, but we are actively looking for her. We still need to discuss whether or not we arrest her when she’s found in the hope she’ll tell us the identities of the men responsible for the atrocity at Covent Garden, or whether to keep up surveillance in the hope that she will lead us to them.”
Jane listened as various officers discussed the two options, and which was best for the investigation. Some wanted to know why they hadn’t broken into the basement flat to see if they could find any incriminating evidence, or any connection to their bomber. Crowley said it was too risky as the neighbors might see something and tell Wilde.
The doors opened and DS Lawrence walked in. He was holding an envelope, and went straight up to the podium to hand it to Crowley.
“We’ve got a match. Wilde must have taken a glove off to put money in the coin box when attempting to make a coded call to the press. We found prints from an index finger and part of the right palm on the coin box that match Natalie Wilde’s prints from Hendon, but of course we can’t date a fingerprint and say it got there on the day of the explosion.”
Crowley was elated. Although the print could be classed as circumstantial evidence, it was still evidence of Natalie Wilde’s connection to the bombing at Covent Garden.
“Right. You lot get out there and find Natalie Wilde. When you do, contact me and I’ll make the decision as to arresting or tailing her.”
“Was Natalie’s phone tapped?” Jane asked, as Church drove her home.
Church shook his head. “Problem with phone taps is that they cause a slight click and delay on picking up the receiver. She’d be trained to look out for that and wouldn’t use her phone if she heard it.”
Jane opened the passenger door, hesitating. “Do you want a coffee?”
“You know, I would. Thank you.”
Jane filled the kettle as Church made a call to Maynard, who was at the observation point opposite Natalie’s basement flat.
“Any show?” he asked.
“Not yet, guv, it’s all very quiet.”
“Okay. I’ll get you relieved in a couple of hours.”
Church was about to walk back into the kitchen when he saw the ironing board left up outside Jane’s bedroom. Neatly folded on top of it was a man’s t-shirt. He unfolded it and saw the faded design of James Dean wearing a cowboy hat. He knew where he had seen it before, and it was Alan Dexter’s. He checked his watch and went back into the kitchen.
“She’s still not shown up at her flat.”
Jane handed him a mug of coffee. “It’s only instant I’m afraid.”
“I don’t mind. But I wouldn’t mind a slice of toast if you’ve got some bread.”
“Of course. How about cheese on toast?”
“Lovely, thank you.”
“Do you think Natalie was tipped off?”
“I don’t know. She might have just been a lot better at sussing us out and became wary enough to do a runner. I know my team have been cautious . . . maybe that caused them to lose her at Oxford Circus.” He sipped his coffee.
Jane lightly toasted two slices of bread, then put cheese on top. Placing them under the grill she watched the cheese begin to bubble before using a fork to place them both onto a plate. She opened the fridge to take out a bottle of tomato ketchup and held it up.
&nb
sp; “I’ve also got HP or Lea & Perrins if you’d prefer it?”
“Yes, please, L&P.”
Jane put the bottle down on the counter and was about to sit next to Church when the phone rang. Jane went out into the hall and picked up the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Hi there.”
Jane almost dropped the phone and moved closer to the kitchen.
“Natalie! I was going to call you.”
Church jumped off his stool and turned on the tape recorder they had installed and connected to Jane’s phone. He took a pen out of his pocket, then gestured for Jane to keep talking as he opened his note book.
“I’ve been back and forth to Woolwich and have only just got home. I feel bad about not calling to thank you for Sunday. I had a terrible hangover . . . I didn’t realize how much I had been drinking.”
Church wrote on his note pad: SEE HER TONIGHT?
Jane nodded. “I haven’t eaten dinner yet. How about us meeting up and having something at Fratelli’s?”
“What, tonight?” Natalie asked.
“Yes, the food was good there. Or you can choose somewhere else.”
“I can’t, Jane. I’ve only just got home myself. We had a lengthy session after the bank closed because there were some discrepancies in the accounting department. I can’t tell you . . . one slip up and all hell breaks loose.”
Jane had broken out in a sweat. She took the pen and wrote N SAYS SHE’S AT HOME. Both of them knew she wasn’t, and Jane also knew she was lying about having been at the bank. It was unnerving that Natalie could lie so easily.
Church held up another note: GET HER TO MEET YOU.
Jane was now lying every bit as much as Natalie was, and she was finding Church’s closeness unnerving. She waved her hand at him to move away.
“So, are you all ready for the big dinner dance?” Natalie asked.
“Just about, but I wonder . . . could I ask you a big favor regarding tomorrow night?”
“Ask away.”
“You know Pearl has left? I mean, she’s not living with me anymore. I really don’t know how I’m going to do my dress up tomorrow, as I was banking on her helping me.”
“Oh God, yes . . . all those little buttons.” Natalie said.
“It’ll be impossible for me to do it up by myself. Besides, I’d really like you to give me your opinion about accessorizing with your jacket, and whether I should wear my hair up or down.”
“What time will you be getting ready? I have to go to work, but I suppose I could come over to you straight afterward?”
“Oh, that would be fantastic! If you could be here for about 5:30pm, or before . . . whatever suits you. You’ve never seen my flat and I’d love to show it to you and see what you think of it.”
“What time does your dinner start?”
“It’s not until 7:30, but there’s drinks beforehand.”
Church finished his cheese on toast as he listened to Jane giving Natalie her address. He was astonished to hear her laughing.
“No, no! Not Balcombe Street! That was where the siege happened—it’s Melcombe Street. The first turning on the left if you’re coming from Baker Street Underground. It’s not far from Fratelli’s.”
Jane replaced the receiver and felt her legs turn to jelly.
“She’s agreed to come here tomorrow about 5:30 to help me get dressed for the dinner dance.”
Church cocked his head to one side.
“At first I couldn’t fathom what the hell you were talking about—Pearl and the dress. Then when you laughed and mentioned the siege . . . I’m really impressed.” He took out a lighter and flicked it open to light his cigarette. “It’ll be perfect, she’s hiding out, but it looks like she doesn’t know she was under surveillance and her shenanigans yesterday were to see if she was. Our boys may have lost her, but they didn’t blow their cover.”
Jane sat back on the kitchen stool and sipped her coffee. “I’m dreading her coming here. The thought of her being in my flat makes me feel sick, but the other side of me knows she has to turn up if she’s to be arrested.”
“She’s coming to you because she has to be certain that you haven’t got any suspicions about her. We’ll be onto her as soon as she comes out of the underground station. With the evidence piled up against her, she’s looking at twenty-five years. She’ll talk . . . they always do.”
Jane swallowed and nodded at Church’s packet of cigarettes. “Do you mind if I have one?”
He took the packet and opened it. Jane hesitated before taking a cigarette out and placing it between her lips. She leaned forward and before he could pick up his lighter she had it in her hand. She held it for a moment, then used her thumb to flick it open and light the flame, inhaling the smoke and flicking the lighter closed again. Her eyes suddenly filled with tears and Church gently touched her cheek.
“No need for tears, Jane. You did good. I’m proud of the way you handled that phone call.”
She blew out the smoke, which tasted rancid on her tongue, then turned away.
“The tears are not about that. I was just remembering something . . . someone else.”
The memory of DCI Bradfield was still so strong in her mind. She knew he would have been proud of her. Church reminded her of the man she had loved, who had died so tragically.
“Listen, Jane, I’m going to have to get to the Yard to set things up for tomorrow and give old Crowley the good news. If there are any further developments, call me. I can come back later tonight and stay with you if you want.”
She inhaled another deep lungful of smoke, but it still tasted awful so she slowly stubbed the cigarette out in the saucer he had used.
“That’s really nice of you, but to be honest I’m exhausted. It’s been a long day and I need to get organized for tomorrow. If there’s any news just call me and let me know if I have to see Crowley again.”
Church leaned over and kissed her cheek. He seemed embarrassed and kept his arm around her shoulders as she walked with him to her front door. He gestured toward the ironing board.
“That t-shirt . . . I know who it belongs to. I’ve seen him wearing it.”
Jane moved away from him a fraction.
“Oh, that. I had to borrow it. As you know, when you weren’t available to talk to I went to see Dexter and very embarrassingly I was sick over myself. So, he gave me that to change into, to get home.”
Church gave her a sardonic smile and dropped his arm from around her shoulders.
“Take care with him Jane. He’s an amazing guy, but takes terrifying risks. He’s also got a bad reputation over his relationships with women.”
“Thanks for the warning,” she said with a weak smile. She shut the flat door behind him and locked it as he went down the stairs.
Returning to the kitchen, she washed up the dishes, then picked up the packet of cigarettes that Church had left on the counter. She shook out another one and lit it from the gas ring on the cooker. She inhaled and this time it didn’t taste as bad. Holding the cigarette between her lips she tucked Dexter’s t-shirt under her arm, not caring that she was creasing her careful ironing. Still smoking, she collapsed the ironing board and stashed it away in the hall cupboard, then went into her bedroom. She slowly unfolded Dexter’s t-shirt and held it to her as she closed her eyes.
“Don’t hurt me,” she said, softly.
Chapter Twenty
It was Good Friday, the day of the dinner dance. Natalie Wilde had still not returned to her basement flat, nor did she go to work at the bank as she had called in sick. Without any knowledge of where she was, Crowley gave the go ahead for two officers to force entry into her flat, accompanied by forensic expert DS Lawrence. Crowley had also requested that Jane accompany Lawrence to the flat so, after being collected in an unmarked police vehicle, Jane was taken to 44 Belsize Park Avenue to join the forensic team.
After being given the all-clear from the bomb disposal expert, who had checked the door frames for possible
booby traps, Jane and Lawrence made their way down the steps to the front door. It was easy to open the simple Yale lock with a skeleton key. Lawrence pushed the door but it wouldn’t open fully as something was behind it. The smell that greeted them made it clear that bags of rubbish had been left to rot in the hallway.
“Take those back to the lab for sorting,” Lawrence told one his team who had joined them.
As one officer removed the bags the two other officers moved silently round the flat, searching the entire basement. There were numerous empty drawers in the main room, and in the kitchen there were more rubbish bags containing half-opened tins and used food cartons, as well as many empty wine bottles.
“God, this place is a mess. Was it like this when you were here, Jane?” Lawrence asked.
“No—it was neat and tidy. It looks as if other people have been here since I was. The furnishing and the pictures on the walls are the same, but it’s all a façade now that we know who Natalie really is.” Seeing it empty and neglected, Jane wondered how she’d been fooled.
She crossed to a bookcase filled with Penguin paperbacks and took one down. The browning book smelt musty. Jane and Lawrence went into the bedroom where a few items had been left in the dressing table drawers.
“This is where you found the scarf, isn’t it?” Lawrence asked.
“Yes. It was with all her underwear, in that drawer there.” She indicated the bottom drawer.
“Well, it’s not there now,” he said, rummaging around.
Jane checked the wardrobe. Inside was an old coat, a rain jacket, two blouses, and a pair of shoes that were down at the heel and had a hole in the sole.
“I don’t think they belong to her.” Jane glanced at the scuffed shoes and then looked over to the double bed. “She told me it was her mother’s quilt,” she said.
Lawrence lifted it up. Underneath it there were sheets and pillow cases, all in need of a wash and smelling of mildew. “She must have moved most of her stuff out before Stanley set up the observation over the road,” he said.
“Church said when they last saw Natalie enter her flat she was carrying a bag of groceries?”
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