“Well … I think this Frederic character is probably in France. It’s a continental name; not definitely, but it certainly suggests it, especially as we know he’s heading in that direction,” he said, gazing vacantly through the window onto the garden.
“How long before those guys are coming to see you, darling?” Constanta said, forcing Tarquin to focus.
He froze for a second, and then spun round to look at Constanta.
“Christ, I’d forgotten about them. Was thinking that now we know Oliver’s the criminal here, that they’d be off my back.”
“Yeah, right!” Constanta said sarcastically. “They think you are Oliver, darling, so they’re coming for you, make no mistake, and soon … five days, remember.”
A shadow of fear passed across Tarquin’s face and for a second he looked scared.
“Right. That’s it! I’m going over to Oliver right now and I’m going to tell him what I know and …”
“Hang on!” Constanta said, holding her hand up like a traffic policeman. “And what do you think he’ll say? Well, I’ll tell you exactly what—‘Nu stiu nimic!’”
“Uh?” Tarquin said. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nu stiu nimic! I … don’t … know … anything. I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Well, then I’ll show him the photos … and writing … and …”
“And before any of that he’ll have slammed the door in your face, darling.”
“And then … well, I’ll call the police and tell them the story—”
“Wow! And you think that’ll solve your problems? By the time the police have decided that you’re not just another crazy guy who hates his neighbour, you’re going to be in hospital, Tarquin, in a very bad way! This is not a clever way to proceed. The police won’t save your arse in time! Don’t you understand? You have a couple of days only. You’re not the prime minister!”
“She’s right, Mr Tarquin,” Petru said with a look of grave concern. “You needs to get away from here for a bit until you have a plan. It is not safe. I think this people are dangerous.”
“Bloody fucking hell!” Tarquin exploded, slumping back onto the sofa and causing Percy to spring to his feet.
“Are you saying I have to leave my own house because of these bloody criminals? I have to hide because my bloody neighbour is being chased by some Russians? What the hell is going on next door?”
There was quiet in the room for a moment or two.
“He is two doors away, Mr Tarquin,” Petru said.
“I know, I know, but it’s close enough! And what’s with the hasty retreat, leaving taps running and breakfast on the table? Perhaps they’ve realized Oliver lives at number five after all, and he had to leave quickly before they got hold of him?” Tarquin suggested.
“Possibly, darling, but I would not risk it,” Constanta said. “He may have left for another reason, who knows. And anyway, why is he back now?”
“But he left the book, the notepad with the ferry times; the fellow was in a serious hurry!”
“He may be picking them up now,” she said.
“It may be more simple,” Petru offered, “It may be that he sat eating breakfast and suddenly saw a traffic warden in the street by his car ready to write ticket …”
“Oh come on!” Tarquin said angrily. “Then he comes back in and tidies up.”
“Yes, it’s possible,” Constanta agreed, ignoring Tarquin’s protestations. “Those people make everyone jumpy. He could have got into an argument, lost his temper, was told to move his car immediately … perhaps it was a tow truck even, so he quickly locks and leaves, thinking he’s got everything—and perhaps he did—he may not have needed those things right then.”
“And don’t forget in his notepad,” Petru added, “he mentions ‘parking permit,’ so he needs one, I think!”
“It’s all fucking crazy,” Tarquin said, smoothing Percy’s coat. “I honestly think I’m going mad.”
“Going mad is not a luxury you can afford right now, darling. You need to think carefully,” Constanta said sternly.
She stood staring at Tarquin for a few moments, deep in thought. Suddenly, she pointed an admonishing finger in his direction.
“My God! I just realized what you’ve got to do!” she said excitedly. “You’ve got to catch Oliver with the cabinet. I mean follow him, and see the cabinet, or at least see where it’s being taken to, and then you have him properly. You need to photograph it so that the authorities can establish what it is; it must be very luxurious to be so … well … expensive.”
“That goes without saying,” he said sullenly.
“Someone, an expert perhaps, would know from a photo what it is, and then you can nail him. In fact, I think you need many detailed pictures of it. Your plan to knock on his door is crazy; might just give him warning, make him deny any involvement and change all his plans. Are you really prepared to tell the police that you asked someone to break into a house to get evidence because you had suspicions? How do you think that sounds?”
Tarquin stared at her angrily, taking in her words.
“Listen to me!” Constanta said urgently. “You have to follow Oliver, you know where he’s going and what time! Then you can get him properly. You have no real stuff to convince the police right now, and you have some guys ready to kill you if you stay here. They’re coming Thursday … the day after tomorrow!”
Tarquin suddenly looked drained of energy.
“But he may have changed his boat times, his plans,” he said listlessly.
“He might have done this, and he might do that, Tarquin, but since you can’t stay here, what have you to lose?”
“What are you saying, Constanta,” Tarquin said in a low voice, “that I book onto the same ferry as him—that’s presuming I can get a reservation—and follow him James Bond-style across France? Do you know how difficult it is to follow a car for a long period? It’s almost impossible unless you’re prepared to run red lights, shunt other cars out of the way, and stick out like a sore thumb. Don’t you think he might get a little suspicious if the same Mercedes car is behind him from London to this place in France?”
“Mr Tarquin, excuse me,” Petru said deferentially, “but I think there is a time on the notepad, when Oliver is meeting his friend at Troyes train station on Friday, so why do you need follow him? You can go straight there?”
“Perfecto, Petru!” Constanta said, looking at Tarquin triumphantly. “That is the best to do, just catch up with him there.”
“And how will I find him?” Tarquin said quietly. “I’ve only met the man once; I’m not sure I’d recognize him. Besides, how do we know he’s not doing something with the bloody cabinet before he gets to Troyes?”
“We don’t, but there’s no mention in his schedule of another stop, so let’s assume he’s taking it there,” Constanta said.
“Okay, okay, but how do I recognize the man?”
“Do you know his car?” Constanta said.
“No. I don’t recall what he drives,” Tarquin said.
“Well, look across the street, stupid,” Constanta said. “He’s parked outside!”
“No,” Petru said waving his finger. “He’s in van, remember, and that is car out there.”
Constanta went over and peered through the curtains.
“Shit, he’s gone. The car’s already gone,” she said.
Tarquin got up and went out onto the street. Oliver’s house was completely dark.
“Well, that settles that, he’s buggered off!” he said, coming back in.
Constanta went into the kitchen and poured herself a large glass of water. Percy joined her as she noisily put things into the fridge.
“I’ve got it!” she shouted suddenly. “I’ll ring the ferry company in the morning and pretend to be Oliver’s secretary and say I want to check the booking and … and also that I want to check the van details are correct … you know, because Oliver can be a bit stupid about the …”<
br />
“Registration details?” Petru interjected.
“Yes. That’s the number, isn’t it?”
“Sure. And then you check the other details like car type, and model and colour,” Petru said excitedly.
“And if they ask why you need these details?” Tarquin said.
“Well, because Oliver has a number of vans, that’s why,” Constanta riposted. “And he can get confused, and me his secretary am looking after him!”
“Well, all I can say, Constanta,” Tarquin said, holding his face in his hands, “is that you remember he’s called Clasper, not Clasping.”
“Okay, okay, grumpy old man!” she said, squeezing his shoulder. “And I hope you are appreciating you have two very intelligent people helping to save your arse!”
“I certainly do, my friends,” Tarquin said, straightening himself into a more relaxed position. “It’s just this is very foreign territory to me, that’s all. I’m sorry to be negative.”
“Petru, can you hear some violins?” she said mischievously.
Tarquin mustered a weak smile.
She continued. “So hopefully we’ll soon have all the details of Oliver’s van, and if the station in Troyes is small, then you should be able to find him and follow him! Easy, eh?” she said grinning. “Have you got a camera? And shit, yes … what ferry company am I ringing?”
Chapter 17
Gus and Bob arrived in Warriner Avenue at eight thirty exactly and found a parking spot on the opposite side of the street to Tarquin, but several houses up. It afforded a good view of his house.
“What the hell is so frigging funny?” Gus said, turning to look at Bob as he wrenched the handbrake up. “You’ve been sniggering to yourself for the last couple of minutes.”
“Don’t you remember the last time we used these magnetic plates, G?”
“Eh?”
“Don’t you remember the last time when we was pretending to be satellite TV experts, and that old lady come up and asked you to look at her dish because it wasn’t working proper. And you said you was busy, and she said you didn’t look very busy because she’d been watching you for two hours, and all you did was sit in the van and listen to the radio!”
“Oh, her!” Gus said with a toothy grin. “Yeah, the stupid old bag. Jesus, she wouldn’t leave me alone, kept asking all those bloody questions about her TV and the channels she couldn’t get! What the ’ell was I meant to say? ‘Of course I’ve got time to come into your ’ouse, madam, and sort your TV out. Just let me grab me toolbox!”
“Well, we ‘ave got ‘Magnum Satellite Services and TV Maintenance’ stamped all over our motor, G. So what do you expect?” Bob said with a rasping chuckle.
“Look, mate, as you know, we have to have something on the frigging motor when we’re doing a stakeout, or we look like a pair of villains.”
“Which is what we are, G!” Bob said, chuckling again.
“Okay, you got a better idea? Shall I change it to ‘Sanitary Services, Lavatory Blockages our Speciality?’ I’m sure I can get some nice brown overalls for you and a pole with a brush on the end to give you the authentic look!” Gus said, throwing his head back and laughing loudly. Bob laughed as well whilst quickly sticking his head out of the window.
“And what about the time when you was mending the floorboards at Frank’s gaff?” Gus said, with a view to getting his own back.
“Floorboards?” Bob said, bringing his head back into the cab.
“Yeah, when you was doing a bit of carpentry for him so you could get a good ogle at his daughter.”
“Okay, okay,” Bob said, vaguely recollecting.
“Don’t you remember? His dog … you know, that bloody rottweiler called Major took a fancy to you—you being down on the floor an’ all—and got his paws round your neck and started getting well fruity!”
“Fuck me, yes! I remember now,” Bob said sheepishly. “Bloody animal was well attached to me with his filthy breath all over me neck. And then he had the bare faced cheek to growl when I tried to push him off. Frank shouted at me to let him be or he’d get the ache! Luckily he had a bone in the fridge and managed to remind Major that his stomach came before a ride. God knows what would have happened otherwise … but he seemed to think it was well funny, I remember that.”
Gus threw his head back, laughing again, whilst Bob wiped the wing mirror with an old tissue.
* * *
Tarquin answered the phone; it was Constanta.
“Hi, partner, how are you today?” she said, sounding excited.
“Partner?” Tarquin answered, bemused.
“That’s right, ‘partner’!” she said again, revelling in Tarquin’s unease. “You see, Petru and me had a long chat last night after we left and we made a big decision, a really big decision.”
“Okay?” Tarquin said guardedly.
“We decided …,” She paused for effect.
“Yes? What?”
“We decided, darling, that we’re coming with you on this trip to France!”
“What? Aren’t you working? And isn’t Petru doing his bagels?”
“Yes, we both have jobs, Tarquin, but I am owed a lot of holidays, and Petru can take some time off without a problem as well! We are worried for you.”
“Look … sweetie. I really don’t know about this whole French trip thing,” Tarquin stuttered. “It just seems a crazy idea with … with very odd goals.”
“Tarquin! When are you going to wake up? You are in a very dangerous place right now and you need help … real help. You’re out of your depth, darling. You do not understand what this Russian mafia can do to you. You talk about calling the police when this will only give you the feeling of safety. We’ve been through this before. The police will not react fast enough. They’ll be suspicious of you. By the time they’re up to speed, you will be in hospital … if you’re lucky! We know what these people can do, Tarquin, believe me,” she implored.
Tarquin held the phone against his chest for a few seconds, his face a mask of worry.
“Right! Okay! Let’s bloody do it!” he said with sudden determination. “I need to think about a few things before.”
“I already did the thinking for you. Number one you need to decide who can look after Percy …”
“He can come with us,” Tarquin interrupted. “He has a passport, he’s been vaccinated, and France is … well, dog friendly when it comes to hotels.”
“Really?” she said, sounding dubious. “Do you need to check this?”
“No.”
“Okay then, next you need to hire a vehicle; the Mercedes will be too small for this trip.”
“Err … shit, you’re right! Perhaps I can borrow something from …”
“Tarquin! You don’t have time! Do you want to be half killed by this people? There will be questions and delays if you ask one of your friends. There are hire companies everywhere, and they’ll do you a deal over a week.”
“Okay, okay. Leave it to me.”
“They are coming for you, darling … please understand! It’s Wednesday today, and we need to leave tomorrow. The letter gave you till Thursday. Don’t you remember?”
“Constanta, I understand! I’m on the case.”
“Oliver is meeting his friend at Troyes railway station on Friday. He’s getting the ferry tomorrow evening with the cabinet.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Petru thought something like a Ford Focus—sort of low-profile car—would be best.”
“Yuh. I’ll check what’s on offer,” Tarquin said, feeling like he was being propelled down a tunnel.
“Don’t forget you have to book us on this ferry or tunnel thing. If we arrive over there in the evening, we can drive towards Troyes and find a place to stay on the way.”
“I’m going to sort it all out, Constanta. Stop worrying!”
“Look, darling, there will be expenses for you to pay, but we’ll help you to sort this problem out. Petru is good with a camera, and I have some sk
ills as well! I can think on my feet, and think of ways to turn this to your advantage. This adventure might have an interesting conclusion.”
“That’s a big word for a Romanian,” Tarquin said, trying to lighten the mood.
“Wow, you’re a funny man,” she said without a trace of amusement. “Now I got to go, but you know what you have to do, organise a car and book a ferry, or whatever, but make sure we are over in France by tomorrow in the evening at the latest, perhaps even earlier. We’ll be over at your place by eleven o’clock in the morning unless you call. Oh, and don’t forget some food for Percy and some water.”
“Have you got … are both your passports up to date?” he asked tentatively.
“What’s that supposed to mean? Of course they are. See you tomorrow.”
“Okay. Oh, hang on! Just one other thing,” he said hastily. “Did you get hold of the ferry company and manage to find out the details of Oliver’s van?”
“I’m a professional, darling, what do you think! It’s a red Toyota.”
She put the phone down without waiting for a reply.
Chapter 18
“That’s perfect, Melvyn,” Oliver said, looking at the casing around the chest. “That’ll throw them off the scent … and keep Frederic at bay, for sure! He’s a nosy bugger, and we don’t need to get tripped up by him, not at this stage in the proceedings. As you know, it’s all in the detail, and one silly oversight could scupper us and send three years of work up in flames.”
“God forbid,” Melvyn mumbled quietly.
“Okay, that’s it till tomorrow at nine. Please just double-check you have all the tools you’ll need, and of course all the things for your ‘magic box of tricks.’ I trust you’ve cleared it all with Mary?”
“Yep, she’s happy. Just thinks we’re off to do some deals in France, that’s all; not really that concerned. As you know, she’s only really interested in the garden.”
“How sweet. You have a lovely wife there, Mel. Some women would be asking a thousand questions. And it’s kind of her to keep an eye on the ‘Hall.’ I always hate to leave the house unattended for any length of time, and besides, she’s good with Titus. He’s grown fond of chasing hares recently and she can bring him to heel immediately with that voice of hers!”
The Freiburg Cabinet Page 13