Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

S URVEILLANCE WORK IS AMONG THE most demanding – while at the same time the most boring – any police officer has to carry out. The problem is quite simple. You have to be alert for several hours on end and then ready to move at a moment's notice, and should you take a couple of minutes off to make a phone call, grab a bite, take a pee, you can be sure that will be the moment the predator strikes. You will then spend the rest of your life remembering, and being remembered for, what happened when you blinked.

Ross had often thought that protecting the President of the United States must be among the most exciting and demanding jobs on earth. A lifetime of specialized training and dedication in preparation for something that might never happen. The detail on duty in Dallas on the morning John Kennedy was assassinated had the rest of their lives to consider if they'd done everything possible to prevent his death. One of the officers on duty that day committed suicide, two resigned, and three had taken early retirement.

After a month of no income flowing in and bills mounting up, Avril left her mother's house in Putney, found a small flat in Pimlico and went back to work. Ross begged her not to take the risk, but she didn't listen.

He and his small surveillance team, led by Paul and Rebecca, assisted by a group of young detectives, remained vigilant and thorough. They didn't have to be reminded that a young woman's life was at stake.

The daily routine began at midday, when Avril woke, having returned home around three, sometimes four in the morning. Normal people's lunch was her breakfast, but not before enjoying a long warm bubble bath to wash away the night before. This was followed by a twenty-minute jog, with a police officer not far behind, another twenty minutes on the weights and a final twenty under the tanning machine, so that she never looked pale.

During the afternoon, Avril went shopping at her local Waitrose and Boots, and if she needed a new outfit, she took a trip to Carnaby Street or the King's Road. Price didn't seem to matter, but then she had chosen a profession that only dealt in cash payments, so she never received any brown envelopes from the taxman and never had to claim unemployment benefits.

The day job – night job – began around six, when she would prepare for the evening shift. A warm shower, not a bath. Make-up and dressing would take at least an hour, if she hoped to lure a rich client.

At eight o'clock a taxi would pick her up from her flat and take her to the Down and Out Club in Soho where she had her own table. Avril sipped only orange juice while she waited for an insect to land in her web. Some left after a few minutes, after they'd discovered she wasn't in their price range, while others lasted the course and went home with empty wallets, as cheques and credit cards were not acceptable to either side.

Ross always covered the night shift, when he knew Avril would be at her most vulnerable and any predator might strike.

Having been warned of the possible danger, Avril was every bit as alert as Ross and his team, and if she was in any doubt about a punter, he was dismissed out of hand, however much he offered her.

Ross had begged her to go into hiding while Faulkner was away, even offered her a safe house, but she was adamant.

‘If he's that good, he'll find me,' said Avril, ‘and if you're that good, it won't matter. In any case, a girl's got to earn a living, and don't forget, like footballers and ballet dancers, we have our sell-by date.'

The customers who approached her ranged from young men, who were often shy and nervous, to rowdy drunks who wanted ten minutes in the backyard and were summarily dismissed, to middle-aged businessmen who were usually well-dressed, polite, and looking for what Avril described as a ‘girlfriend experience'. They were her favourite customers, because they never caused any trouble and often became regulars. In fact, to Ross's surprise, problems were rare – the occasional drunk who became aggressive, an angry punter who found he couldn't afford her, and the vain men who assumed they wouldn't have to pay – but they were few and far between, and one look at Ross and they were off.

Nine days after Faulkner had boarded a plane for Newark, New Jersey, the Hawk warned Ross that he couldn't justify the expense for much longer. Then it happened.

···

Ross sat bolt upright when Avril came out of the Down and Out Club. He switched on the ignition, while Rebecca's eyes never left their mark. Avril was accompanied by a client who was hailing a cab – a client who definitely fell into the middle-aged businessman category. Smart, well-tailored double-breasted suit, blue shirt, silk tie, even a rolled umbrella.

A taxi pulled up. The man opened the back door of the cab, put up his umbrella to protect Avril from the rain and then waited for her to climb in. Definitely after the ‘girlfriend experience' thought Rebecca – probably divorced and lonely.

Ross palmed the gear lever into first and eased his car out to join the late evening traffic, while never letting the taxi out of his sight. Fifteen minutes later, the cabbie drew up outside the Colony Hotel in Mayfair. Ross slipped in behind a parked car on a single yellow line and waited.

Avril climbed out of the taxi, while the mark paid the fare. When he joined her, they linked arms and strolled into the hotel together, chatting amiably.

Ross sat back and tuned into Classic FM as he and Rebecca settled in for yet another version of Beethoven's 4th. Avril sometimes reappeared within the hour, after what she described as ‘a quickie'. Ross preferred this group, as it allowed him the chance to get home in time to catch up with Alice and hear about her day.

That's when he spotted him: a man entering the hotel on his own, trying to look inconspicuous. Ross immediately recognized him but couldn't remember where from. He'd arrested so many people over the years … But he wasn't willing to take any chances.

‘Wait here,' he said to Rebecca, then leapt out of the car, ran into the hotel and spotted the man standing at the reception desk. Ross kept his distance.

Just as the man turned around, a young lady approached him.

‘Can I have your autograph?' she asked excitedly.

‘Yes, of course,' said the man, giving her a warm smile. ‘Who should I dedicate it to?'

‘Suzie. Can I have a selfie with you?'

The man placed an arm around Suzie's shoulder and smiled, while her friend took a couple of shots.

Ross slipped away, left the hotel and walked quickly back to the car.

‘False alarm?' asked Rebecca as he got back in.

‘Lightbulb moment,' admitted Ross. ‘He's Alice's favourite chef, has his own programme on the telly, but I still can't remember his name.'

‘Good thing you didn't arrest him,' said Rebecca.

···

‘What do you do?' asked Avril as they got out of the lift and began walking down the corridor.

‘Nothing that glamorous, I'm afraid,' her client replied, as he unlocked the door to his room and stood aside. ‘I'm a car salesman.' He placed his umbrella by the door. ‘But I do have the BMW franchise for Coventry, which allows me the occasional luxury.'

‘Married or divorced?' she asked.

‘Married, but she's back in Coventry while I'm up here attending the motor show at Earl's Court tomorrow. You should see the latest BMW Sports coupé. The bodywork …'

‘Perhaps that's not the only bodywork you'll want to see,' Avril teased, as she slipped off his jacket and let it drop onto the floor. ‘Nice watch,' she remarked as he took her in his arms and began to kiss her.

‘Money in advance,' she said, breaking away.

‘Sorry,' he said, ‘of course.' He picked his jacket up off the floor, took out his wallet, extracted five crisp twenties and handed them to her.

Avril took the cash and deftly slipped it in her bag while glancing at his wallet to see that there was a lot more where that came from, and wondered how many extras she could offer him.

‘Why don't you get undressed while I freshen up?'

He began to unbutton his shirt. ‘But please leave your bra and knickers on,' he said shyly before she disappeared into the bathroom.

Once Avril had closed the door, she took a mobile out of her bag and dialled Ross's number.

‘Room seventy-six, seventh floor. I like this one. I think he could be an all-nighter, so why don't you both go home?' said Avril, even though she knew it was a risk Ross wouldn't consider. ‘Good night, lover,' she said to a man she'd never slept with.

Avril slipped off her dress and looked at herself in the mirror. Not bad for thirty-four, going on twenty-nine. She took a tissue out of her bag and slowly removed her lipstick. All-nighters never liked lipstick. She then unscrewed the top of a small bottle of Chanel No. 5 and put a dab behind each ear. She finally pulled up her stockings and, after one more look in the mirror, convinced herself she was ready for the car salesman from Coventry.

As she opened the door, she put on her sweet girlfriend smile, only to find the punter had put his jacket back on and had even picked up his umbrella.

‘Changed your mind, honey?' she said, sounding disappointed.

‘No,' he replied, as he touched a tiny button on the handle of the umbrella. It didn't open up, but a long thin blade with a serrated edge shot out of the tip. Avril froze.

The stranger lunged forward, and with one single movement, thrust the blade between her second and third rib, a hit worthy of an Olympic swordsman.

Avril let out a piercing scream as she fell back and hit the floor with a thud. He let go of the umbrella, quickly grabbed a pillow from the bed, knelt down and held it firmly over her mouth. She tried to put up a fight, but within moments her head fell back and she lay motionless on the floor.

The stranger checked her pulse to make sure she was dead. Satisfied, he spent the next few minutes removing any suggestion that he'd ever been in the room. Once he'd double-checked everything, he walked slowly across to the door, opened it and looked up and down the corridor. No one was in sight.

He switched off the light, stepped out into the corridor, pulled the door closed, and headed for the staircase.

···

‘A quickie,' said Ross, when he saw the light on the seventh floor go out. ‘She'll be disappointed, but at least it means we can have an early night for a change.'

Ross's eyes never left the front of the hotel as he waited for Avril to reappear, so that he and Rebecca could drive her home. He was just about to call William and tell him that the back up team could stand down when the man in a three-piece suit strolled out of the hotel.

‘Gloves,' said Ross.

Rebecca turned to face him. ‘What's the problem?'

‘He's wearing gloves,' said Ross, his voice on edge, ‘and where's the umbrella?'

‘He's probably left it in his room.'

‘That's the problem – it was his room, not Avril's. She should be going home, not a man wearing gloves without his umbrella.' Ross had already unfastened his seat belt and was getting out of the car when he said, ‘Follow him, Rebecca, but remember he'll be looking out for you, so keep your distance.'

Rebecca got out of the car and slipped into the shadows, while the suspect lengthened his stride as he made his way towards Hyde Park Corner. He looked back, but she just kept on walking.

‘Red alert,' shouted Ross over the radio as he began running towards the hotel.

William responded immediately.

‘We need AC1 and AC2 now ,' said Ross. ‘Rebecca is following the suspect and will keep you briefed.'

Ross pushed his way through the revolving doors of the hotel, causing the man in front of him to arrive in the lobby far more quickly than he'd anticipated.

Ross dashed past him towards the lifts and jumped into one just as its doors were closing, joining three other guests. He jabbed the seventh-floor button, and prayed the other three had a higher calling. But the lift stopped on the fourth floor, where two of them got out. He pressed the close button, but the lift continued on at its own pace, stopping again at the sixth to allow the only other guest to depart.

When the doors finally opened on the seventh floor, Ross leapt out and began running down the corridor, past room 70, 72, 74, coming to a halt outside 76. He banged on the door with a fist, while pressing the bell with his other hand, but there was no response.

He stood back and charged at the door, but unlike in films, it remained resolutely closed. He was about to try a second time when the lift door opened and out stepped a waiter, pushing a drinks trolley.

Ross grabbed the trolley from the startled waiter.

‘Sir,' he protested.

‘Police,' shouted Ross, as he propelled the trolley towards the closed door with the same result, except that several bottles ended up on the floor.

Ross pulled the trolley back a second time when the waiter quickly joined him. Together they hurled the trolley towards the door, which loosened its hinges, but was still only half open. Ross pushed his way through the gap to find Avril lying on the floor in a pool of blood, a sword sticking out of her chest, a blood-soaked pillow by her side. He fell on his knees and took her in his arms.

The waiter fainted.

···

‘Where are you?' asked William.

‘Walking along the north side of Piccadilly,' replied Rebecca. ‘The suspect is about forty yards ahead of me and keeps looking back.'

‘That's because he suspects someone might be following him. AC1 and 2 are already on their way and should be with you in minutes. Just make sure you don't lose sight of him.'

‘Where are you, AC1?' said William, flicking a switch.

‘Rounding Hyde Park Corner, sir. Can't risk turning on my siren as it would alert him, but we should still be there in a couple of minutes.'

‘AC2?' snapped William.

‘Just passing St James's Church, heading west along Piccadilly. ETA three minutes. Also no siren or lights.'

‘Rebecca?'

‘He's just passing the Athenaeum Hotel but I think he's spotted me.'

‘Hardly surprising,' said William. ‘He'll assume someone's out there. Remember, he'll be a master at losing them, and the darkness is in his favour, but keep going.'

‘AC1,' said a voice. ‘I can see Sergeant Pankhurst but haven't identified the suspect yet.'

‘Forty yards ahead of me, thirty, thirty-five, smart double-breasted suit, walking quickly,' said Rebecca.

‘Got him,' said AC1 as the suspect disappeared underground.

‘He's gone into Green Park tube station,' said Rebecca. ‘Do I follow him?'

‘No,' said William, ‘he'll have shed you before you reach the bottom step. Cross the road and keep out of sight, because it's still a fifty-fifty chance he'll come back out on the other side in a couple of minutes' time.' He paused to think, then said, ‘Paul?'

‘Sir,' came Paul Adaja's immediate reply.

‘Green Park is on the Victoria, Piccadilly and Jubilee lines. Call the control director and ask him to shut down all trains going in either direction and to keep the passenger doors closed until I give the all-clear.'

‘On it, sir.'

William moved on. ‘Jackie, I need every officer on duty in the Piccadilly area to get themselves over to Green Park sharpish.'

‘I've got seven of them already on their way, sir,' came the quick response.

‘You were right, sir,' said Rebecca, as she watched a familiar figure emerge from the station. ‘The suspect has just come out of Green Park on the south side and is heading towards the nearest bus stop. He keeps looking across the road.'

‘He wants to make sure he's shaken you off. But looking for you,' said William, ‘gives you a slight advantage, but only slight. He'll take the first available bus and get off at the next stop – when we have to be waiting for him, otherwise we'll never see him again.' He flicked a switch. ‘AC1, where are you?'

‘On the wrong side of the road, sir, heading east – and because of the barrier, I can't turn back until I reach the lights by the Ritz, so I've lost a couple of minutes.'

‘AC2?'

‘I'm just passing Fortnum's, sir,' came back the reply. ‘I can see three double-decker buses ahead of me, should reach Green Park in about a minute, no more.'

‘He's getting on the number nine bus,' interrupted Rebecca, ‘and going upstairs.'

‘Join him,' ordered William, ‘but stay on the lower deck.'

‘Jackie?'

‘The number nine is on its way to Kensington,' she replied, ‘and will be heading towards Hyde Park Corner.'

‘I'm on the bus, and it's now on the move,' said Rebecca. ‘He's still on the top deck. What next?'

‘Tell the driver to take the underpass.' William flicked a switch. ‘AC1?'

‘We've made a U-turn, sir, and we can see AC2 just ahead of us.'

‘That's no surprise,' said AC2. ‘While I can see the number nine ahead of me, sir. They are just entering the underpass. I'll be with them in sixty seconds.'

‘Paul, give the traffic controller at Green Park the all-clear and thank him. Jackie, block the far end of the underpass now – now ,' he repeated. ‘Rebecca?'

‘I'm standing next to the driver. He's moving slowly through the underpass.'

‘Tell him to stop.'

‘While we're still in the tunnel, sir?'

‘Yes,' said William. ‘Now.'

The driver began to slow down, as Rebecca looked back to see the first of the squad cars speeding towards them. She immediately accepted that the suspect would have also spotted them.

The bus came to a halt in the middle of the tunnel.

‘Open the door,' Rebecca shouted at the driver as she began to run up the stairs. When she reached the top step, she saw the suspect advancing towards her, his arm around the neck of a young girl.

‘If you don't get out of my way,' he shouted, ‘I'll break her neck.'

Rebecca didn't doubt it, and took a pace back, horrified to see a teenager getting up from the seat behind him and walking towards them. He touched the man on the shoulder and said, ‘That's my sister, mister, and if you don't …'

The man half turned and with his other arm swept the boy aside, while never letting go of his sister. The boy stumbled backwards onto the ground. The man looked around to see Rebecca charging towards him. He was about to take a swing at her when the first of the officers appeared at the top of the steps.

Rebecca hurled herself headlong at the man, causing him to topple backwards and let go of the girl, by which time the first officer was on top of him. The second held him down, while a third handcuffed him. Moments later, two of them yanked him back up and led him off the bus to loud applause.

‘Thank you,' said Rebecca.

‘Who are you thanking?' asked William over the radio.

‘The real hero,' said Rebecca, ‘the young lad who saved his sister.'

This caused a second round of applause, while one of the women officers knelt down beside the two kids to check if they were all right. They were the centre of attention – all smiles.

William was back on the radio. ‘Paul?'

‘The underground is back to normal, sir.'

‘Jackie?'

‘The tunnel is back open,' Jackie replied, ‘and I can see AC2 heading towards me at speed with the prisoner on board, no doubt on their way to the nearest police station.'

‘And AC1?'

‘We never needed them in the first place,' quipped a voice.

AC1 maintained radio silence.

‘Rebecca?' asked William.

‘The bus is back on the move,' she confirmed. ‘The two kids are shaking hands with everyone on board and having their photographs taken, I've thanked the driver and the passengers.'

‘And Ross?' said William.

‘They are putting Avril's body in an ambulance,' said a faltering voice, ‘and I'll be accompanying her to the nearest hospital.' There was a long pause before Ross added, ‘If I'd done my job properly, she'd still be alive.'