0218221900

  ‘Is it a date? A date and a time?’ he asked.

  Emma shook her head. ‘The second pair of numbers should be between one and twelve for months.’

  ‘Unless it’s written US style,’ said Okeke. ‘Month, date, year.’

  ‘Then could that “1900” be 7 p.m.,’ suggested Emma.

  ‘The “02” is February. The next two numbers: the eighteenth. Which would be tomorrow at seven in the evening,’ said Boyd. He looked at the two woman and slowly smiled. ‘I thought it was an informant. It’s a rendezvous.’

  ‘But where?’ asked Emma

  ‘That’s a location,’ Okeke said. ‘The first three words. Then it says “alone” as in come alone.’

  Emma frowned. ‘How’s that a location?’

  ‘What Three Words,’ she said. ‘It’s a co-ordinate system that uses language as an identifier.’ She pulled out her phone. ‘There’s a website. Hang on…’

  After a minute or so of tapping, she set her phone down on the dining table and they all peered at it. Boyd could see a webpage that resembled Google Maps. Okeke checked the note again then carefully entered detective.goodnight.closer into the search box at the top.

  ‘Oh, that’s not it,’ she said, staring at the screen. She pinched the screen to zoom out.

  ‘Where is that?’ asked Emma.

  ‘It’s a forest in Norway, apparently.’

  ‘Maybe the words aren’t correct,’ said Boyd. He looked at the piece of paper again.

  ‘I really don’t understand how this works,’ said Emma.

  Okeke pointed at the screen. ‘It’s a system that divides the world into a three-by-three-metre grid and then assigns each of those grid squares a unique three-word address.’

  ‘Try chose,’ said Boyd.

  That put them in a random lake in northern Norway.

  ‘Chosen?’ he said hopefully.

  The screen froze for a second before whizzing across to another location, finally settling and zooming in on the south coast of England.

  Okeke sucked in a deep breath. ‘Shit.’

  ‘What?’ Boyd and Emma asked in unison.

  She looked from one to the other. ‘That’s Winchelsea.’

  ‘Where’s that?’ Boyd asked.

  ‘Near Rye,’ said Okeke. She looked at him. ‘It’s only a few miles away from Nix’s house.’

  ‘Shit,’ he said. ‘Shitty-shit-shit. That’s it. It’s got to be.’

  ‘It is a rendezvous, then,’ said Emma. She grabbed her dad’s wrist. ‘Which you’re not going to go to, right? You’re going to call it in and let your team do the work.’

  ‘Just… let’s think a minute,’ he said, putting a hand over hers. ‘So it’s a meeting. Tomorrow, at seven, at whatever this place is,’ he said, staring at the peg on the screen. Clever. Whoever had selected the location must have been amused at the poetic coincidence of detective in the three-word address.

  He tapped the screen to switch to satellite view and zoomed out a little, trying to get a idea of this location. He saw dozens of grubby white rectangles gathered in clusters around a meandering dirt track.

  ‘That’s a trailer campsite,’ said Okeke. She shook her head and pressed her lips together. ‘It’s out of season. It’ll be completely deserted.’ She looked at Boyd. ‘You don’t want to go there, guv. Not on your own.’

  ‘You’re absolutely right I don’t want to go on my own,’ he replied, looking meaningfully at her.

  ‘Dad, don’t go!’ Emma begged.

  He continued to look at Okeke. ‘It was honestly one skinny-looking kid.’

  ‘You want me as backup, guv?’

  ‘Yeah. If you wouldn’t mind.’

  ‘Dad, no!’

  He reached out and grabbed Emma’s hand. ‘It’s okay. Look, Em. This is just someone who has some information, that’s all. It could be a friend, family, maybe even a neighbour of Nix’s. Somebody who saw the news and wants to help… but discreetly.’ He glanced quickly at Okeke. ‘It could even be Jo Bambridge.’

  ‘Who’s she?’

  ‘His ex-wife.’ Boyd looked Emma in the eye. ‘It’s certainly no Russian mobster, trust me.’

  She pulled back from him. ‘Well, I really think you should call this in.’

  ‘Emma, this is part of the job. We cultivate informers. We meet them, sometimes in places like this. If a bunch of patrol cars and uniformed officer turn up, we’ll get nothing. The note says alone.’

  ‘Dad, I’m scared.’

  He squeezed her hand reassuringly. ‘No one does in a Detective Chief Inspector to keep things discreet, Ems. That’s the dumbest thing ever. You hurt an officer and all of a sudden you’re dealing with the whole police force.’

  Okeke nodded. ‘Your dad’s right,’ she said. ‘This happens all the time.’

  ‘But the Russians?’ Emma said, spreading her arms wide.

  A whole counterargument in one word.

  ‘This is just intelligence gathering, Emma. That’s all it is. Like Okeke said, it’s what we do. The only reason I showed you the note and let you know about this is –’ he sighed – ‘is because I was a little pissed last night.’

  ‘You nearly got killed last week.’

  ‘Emma, I hurt my ear. And if I thought I was preparing to meet that particular twat again, I certainly wouldn’t be going in alone. Trust me.’

  She didn’t look convinced.

  ‘Look… I suspect the person who wants to meet me is trying very hard to avoid the person who did this,’ he said, pointing to his stitches. ‘Which sort of puts us on the same side. That being said…’ He turned to Okeke. ‘I don’t s’pose there’s any chance you could smuggle out a stab vest, some pepper spray and a taser? Just to be on the safe side.’

  40

  ‘Guv, this is my other half, Jay.’

  The man Okeke was sitting with got up from the bench and, for once, Boyd found someone standing at his own eye-level.

  ‘Jay,’ he said, grasping Boyd’s hand unnecessarily firmly.

  ‘Uh, hello. I’m Boyd,’ said Boyd, resisting the urge to massage his throbbing hand.

  ‘You’re Sam’s boss,’ said Jay. Which, Boyd noted, was more a statement than a question.

  ‘That I am,’ he agreed.

  Jay sat back down.

  ‘Uh, Okeke?’ Boyd muttered under his breath, ‘I don’t recall saying bring a plus-one.’ He looked back at her boyfriend. ‘No offence there, Jay.’

  ‘None taken.’

  ‘I asked him to help and, thankfully, he said yes,’ she replied. ‘Anyway –’ she nodded at Emma, standing beside him with Ozzie – ‘I don’t recall us saying this was a “bring your daughter and dog” meeting, either.’ She smiled at Emma. ‘No offence.’

  ‘None taken.’ Emma smiled back. ‘And he didn’t get much of a choice, to be fair.’

  Boyd shook his head. ‘Where does Minter think you are?’

  ‘At home.’ Okeke smirked. ‘I took a sickie.’

  ‘Good thinking.’ He nodded approvingly.

  They were outside the Dolphin Inn, a small pub that looked as though it might have once been some harbourmaster’s modest home. It looked out across the narrow strip of Rock-a-Nore Road at the labyrinth of fisherman’s hanging huts, all dark lumber, shutters and no windows. It was Okeke’s suggestion to meet here as it was the other end of Hastings to the police station and far enough away from the pier that they weren’t going to bump into any of the rest of their team.

  Boyd looked up at a gang of steely-eyed gulls perched along the top of the huts; he was sure one was ready to swoop over and assault him. ‘Shall we go inside and grab a beer?’ he asked, moving towards the door of the pub.

  Just like Ye Olde Pump House, the Dolphin Inn had a cosy, twilight ambience even during the day. Tiny lead-lined windows let in the meagre light of the grey day; the rest of the light seemed to come from the flickering flames of an inviting log fire and an overexcited slot machine that was blinking and flashing, as though it was about to have a heart attack.

  The pub was virtually empty. There was an old man muttering to himself over a pint and a newspaper, and an old woman – possibly his wife – feeding coins into the slot machine and tugging repeatedly on its lever.

  Jay offered to get the drinks and Boyd watched as he weaved through the empty tables and chairs towards the bar.

  ‘I appreciate you bringing some extra muscle,’ Boyd said to Okeke as Jay leaned against the bar, ‘a lot of extra muscle, but –’

  ‘I’ve told him nothing that’s sensitive to the case, guv. Just that you’re meeting an informer in a place that could be a bit dodgy and we need someone to watch your back and look scary.’

  ‘Thank you for doing that,’ said Emma.

  Okeke nodded. ‘It was the sensible thing to do. I think your old man’s been knocked around enough already.’

  ‘Yeah, all right, thanks.’ Boyd nodded, secretly a little relieved. Jay looked like he ate scrawny Russian thugs for breakfast. ‘So he’s not curious at all as to why we’re not just using other plain clothes officers?’

  ‘I explained this was off the books, guv.’

  ‘And he didn’t think that odd?’ Boyd asked.

  Okeke smiled. ‘He thought it sounded rather cool, actually.’

  ‘What does Jay do when he’s not playing cops and robbers?’ asked Emma.

  ‘He’s a furniture restorer by day and a bouncer at night,’ Okeke replied.

  Boyd nodded. That explained the muscles and the general Jason Statham-like appearance. He turned to look at Okeke. ‘Did you manage to sneak some kit out?’

  She nodded. ‘Stab vest, telescopic baton and a pepper spray. No taser, I’m afraid.’

  Boyd wasn’t surprised. While most forces were planning on rolling out tasers as standard issue for uniformed officers, budget restraints meant they were still in relatively short supply and issued to named and trained officers only.

  ‘Jay’s got a replica handgun, though,’ said Okeke. ‘You want him to bring it?’

  Boyd’s first instinct was to say no. Producing a gun during any tense situation didn’t tend to help matters much. But then… with the Russians possibly lurking around it might not be such a bad idea. He’d rather they had something gun-like to pull out if things did suddenly go tits up.

  He nodded. ‘Yeah, just in case. Anyway, I’ve looked over the campsite on Google Maps,’ he said. He pulled out his phone and lay it on the table for Okeke to see.

  ‘The three-word meet location is pretty central to the camp. It’s in an open space near a small copse of trees and overlooking what looks like a small artificial lake. There are dozens and dozens of trailers that have line of sight on this spot. I’m guessing it’s the campsite’s equivalent to a town square or something. So, our informant picked a place he could clearly see from any number of these trailers. He’s going to be watching to make sure I’m there alone before coming out, that’s for sure.’

  Boyd pointed at the satellite image. ‘The entrance to the camp is down here by the bottom corner of the lake. There’s a lane that runs off Nook Road, then along the southwest side of the lake. And this looks to me like the entrance to the campsite. I’ll drive up this lane, park at the entrance barrier and get out. I’d say it’s about sixty yards to the spot where I have to stand… alone.’

  Jay returned with a tray of drinks and some crisps. ‘They’re not taking food orders until twelve,’ he told them.

  ‘It’s okay – I’m not that hungry,’ said Boyd. He’d eaten a big breakfast. Beneath the table, Ozzie sighed at the disappointing news and curled up into a dog-doughnut around one of the table legs.

  Jay handed out the Cokes and passed the vodka orange to Emma, then sat down. His eyes lit up at the sight of the map on Boyd’s phone. ‘Planning the mission, eh?’

  ‘Basically, I meet someone there,’ said Boyd, pointing. ‘I’m going to park my car over there. And you’re going to just lie low in the car, Jay. I’ll have a concealed stab vest on me, a radio handset, pepper spray and a baton under my coat, so I’m going to be fine. But, if you hear me call for help, turn the car lights on and hit Sam’s rape alarm. Make a shitload of noise. Then come running.’

  ‘What about me, guv?’ asked Okeke.

  ‘You stay –’

  ‘You don’t get me involved, then tell me to stay out,’ warned Okeke. She glanced at her boyfriend. ‘Jay might look the part, but he’s not hands-on-arrest trained.’

  ‘Hey, babe,’ interjected Jay. ‘I can look aft–’

  She put a hand on his arm to stop him. ‘I’m coming, guv.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Emma.

  Stupidly, Boyd hadn’t thought this far ahead. Of course Emma was going to insist on coming, and, short of cuffing her to the house, there wasn’t much he could do to stop her.

  ‘Okay,’ he said, sighing. ‘But you’re going to be further back,’ he said in his best non-negotiable tone. ‘You’ll be parked up a little further away. Let’s say further up on … what’s that say there…’ He squinted at the image on his phone. ‘The Ridge?’

  He could see a few houses with sea views and cars parked outside them. Judging by the Google satellite image, the ground beside the Ridge was fairly flat and marshy, which would afford them a clear line of sight to the lane leading up to the campsite entrance.

  ‘You’ll be able to see my car. If the headlights go on, that’s Jay coming for me. Okeke, you do a code zero on your radio handset.’

  ‘Got it.’

  ‘And,’ he added, wagging a finger, ‘you both stay back and wait for the cavalry to arrive.’

  ‘Right. Just like you did, Boyd,’ said Okeke, ‘at Nix’s place…’

  ‘Hmmm.’ Absently he reached up to his left ear. ‘Well, wasn’t that a teachable moment for us all.’

  ‘Dad, no. If you’re in trouble –’

  ‘We’ll stay put,’ said Okeke firmly. She looked at Emma. ‘And we’ll call for backup.’

  ‘How long will this take?’ asked Jay. ‘Only, I’m on the door of Cuzzin’s at ten tonight.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Boyd. ‘I doubt it’s going to be a long conversation. But if it looks like it’s going that way, then I’m going to give him a ChatterBox password and we can resume talking online.’

  ‘You know about that?’ said Emma, surprised.

  The social media platform had launched only last year – basically a cooler version of WhatsApp. Not being Facebook-owned and subject to relentless data-mining, the kids loved it.

  Crooks loved it too.

  ‘I’m forty-six, not eighty-six,’ he reminded her. He turned back to Okeke and Jay. ‘So, to recap: I’m expecting this should be a quick chat. And, to be entirely clear, none of that reactive stuff – the headlights, Jay coming, the code zero – happens unless I call out for help, got that? Otherwise, whoever it is that wants a chat with me will probably bolt for the hills and never be heard from again.’

  They nodded.

  ‘Good. Right, then – we just need to arrange somewhere quiet and discreet to meet at six this evening. I’d suggest somewhere a couple of miles away,’ he said, reaching out for the crisps.

  41

  ‘There they are!’ Emma pointed.

  He saw them standing in the layby, caught in the glare of his headlights – Okeke and her boyfriend were at the rear of a white Bedford van. Both of them smoking.

  Didn’t know she smoked. Being an ex-smoker himself, his nose was as good as a blood hound’s when it came to picking up the acrid, delightful tang of a curl of fresh fag smoke. He’d not detected so much as a whiff on her so far, at work or anywhere else.

  Could be nerves, then.

  ‘I think her boyfriend’s taking this very seriously,’ said Emma.

  Boyd pulled up behind the van. He could see they’d both dressed in sensibly dark clothing. But Jay had gone the extra mile and daubed camo make-up across his face. Boyd noticed he had a black balaclava clasped in one gloved hand as well. He suspected Jay might have watched a few too many Guy Ritchie movies.

  He switched off his lights, got out and greeted them. ‘Jay, thanks again, by the way, for helping us out.’

  ‘No sweat, guv.’

  ‘Boyd is fine, mate. Your girlfriend only calls me guv, because she has to.’

  ‘Right.’ Jay smiled. ‘Got it. I brought the shoo’er.’ He dropped the middle T in shooter Statham-style.

  Boyd suppressed a smile. Then he took the fake handgun and hefted the weight of it. It certainly looked, felt and weighed real. He tucked it into the waistband at the back of his jeans, so that the grip wouldn’t be visible.

  Sam opened the back of the van and reached in. She came out holding a standard-issue tac vest. ‘Some muppet left this over the back of the chair in the canteen. So I nabbed it.’

  ‘You went in to work today?’ Boyd asked.

  She nodded and said, ‘After the pub. I told Minter I was feeling better.’ She shrugged. ‘I realised a partial day off means it’s not logged as a sick day.’ She looked at him. ‘I’m not losing a sick day for this, guv.’

  ‘Right, well, in future I’ll be watching out for that, Okeke,’ said Boyd, amused.

  ‘It’s all on there,’ she said. ‘Walkie-talkie, baton, pepper.’

  Boyd took off his coat and reached for the heavy vest. ‘It’s been about ten years since I last wore one of these,’ he grunted as he shoved his arms through the loops and shucked his shoulders in to get it to sit right across his broad frame. ‘Here,’ he said, handing her the walkie-talkie, ‘you take this and let’s hope we don’t need it or we’ll both be out of a job.’

  Jay pulled a baseball bat out of the back of the van. ‘And I’ve got this, just in case.’ He swung it experimentally a couple of times.

  Boyd nodded appreciatively. If he had to cry for help and this crazy-looking bat-wielding monster came charging out of the darkness, he was pretty sure that would scare away anything with a pulse and an ounce of common sense.

  Even Russians?

  Maybe not Russians. Hopefully not Russians. It could just as likely be some local scrote with a bit of intel about Rigby or Nix. Perhaps some other crook who’d had his nest egg ‘misplaced’ by Gerald and wanted to anonymously grass him up.