Good Friday

Chapter Twenty-One

Dexter and Stanley stood the other side of the two-way window looking into the interrogation room. Outside the room was a uniformed officer. Inside, Crowley, like the two of them, was wearing evening dress with a large black velvet bow tie. It looked odd to see him dressed so formally opposite Natalie. Two uniformed officers stood at either end of the room and DCI Church sat beside Crowley making notes.

This was the first time that Dexter and Stanley had seen Natalie Wilde. She was wearing a police issue overall and was looking remarkably unruffled.

‘Well, she’s no Maureen O’Hara, is she?’ Stanley commented.

‘Who?’ Dexter looked at him.

‘You know, the red-headed Irish movie star… Natalie just looks pretty ordinary.’

‘That’s the whole point, Stanley. She just fits into everyday life. Just a cashier in a bank.’

They watched for a while longer. Crowley was repeating the same questions over and over again. Natalie kept saying ‘No comment’ to everything she was asked.

Dexter spoke to the officer outside the door. ‘Can you get DCI Crowley out for us?’

‘She’s a nasty little bitch…’ Crowley said to them as he emerged from the interrogation room.

‘Well, maybe she’ll react when you tell her that her partner’s dead,’ said Stanley. ‘We found the rucksack planted at the hotel, and when he tried to make his escape he fell through a church roof and split his head open. He’s a goner.’

‘It’s a shame I won’t be able to question him about the ASU safe house and other IRA members…’ Crowley loosened his bow tie. ‘But if he’s anything like that bitch he probably wouldn’t tell me anything. You two did a great job tonight… not to mention risking your own lives.’ He took a ten-pound note out of his pocket and handed it to Dexter. ‘Go and enjoy your evening — you deserve a stiff drink on me. I’ll join you after I’ve finished questioning her and then I’ll have her taken to Paddington.’

Dexter slipped the note into his pocket. ‘Thanks. I’ll have a large Scotch waiting for you, and Church as well.’

As Crowley re-entered the interrogation room, Natalie pointedly turned her face away from him.

‘Well, Miss Wilde… we found the bomb in the rucksack at the hotel. Seems your intention to harm as many of our officers as possible has failed.’ He leaned across the table but Natalie didn’t react.

‘And your partner, attempting to escape arrest, had an unfortunate fatal accident…’

This was the only time Natalie showed what lay beneath her controlled demeanour. She sprang forward and spat at Crowley, directly in his face. It took every ounce of control for him not to slap her for her smirking arrogance. She was pure evil.

Dexter and Stanley returned to the hotel just as pudding was being served. Stanley had lost his bow tie and a cufflink, and Dexter’s white evening shirt had dark stains all over it and the caps of his shiny shoes were badly scuffed.

‘It’s all over!’ Stanley raised his hands in the air.

Jane still had Dexter’s evening jacket and was waiting anxiously in the empty bar.

‘Didn’t you go in for dinner?’ Dexter asked.

‘No… I couldn’t eat a thing… I was too worried.’ She handed him his jacket. ‘Is it really all over?’

‘Yeah… we got him, but we won’t be getting anything out of him. The madman fell through a church roof and broke his neck on the altar.’

Stanley smiled. ‘They were singing “All Things Bright and Beautiful” and literally on the words “How great is God Almighty” the suspect fell through the roof… His face was smashed to pieces, and—’

Dexter held up his hand. ‘That’s enough, Stanley.’

Jane moved closer to Dexter. ‘What about Natalie?’

‘Crowley’s been interrogating her… he said she’s a hard nut to crack.’

‘Did she say anything about me?’ Jane asked, anxiously.

‘Not as far as I know.’

Despite their air of bravado, Dexter and Stanley ordered stiff drinks. They were on their second Scotch when Crowley and Church both joined them. Dexter pointed to the bar where their drinks were waiting for them. Crowley raised his glass.

‘I’d like to propose a toast to Dexter and Stanley for their brave and unselfish actions… Mind you, the Commissioner may be a bit miffed if he has to donate a couple of grand to the Westminster Chapel roof fund.’

They all laughed and raised their glasses. They could hear the noise coming from the busy banqueting room, which was buzzing with chatter, laughter and the clinking of glasses and crockery. Everyone was in a good mood, all getting along and having a laugh at each other’s expense.

‘Come on, you lot… if we don’t get in there we won’t get anything to eat,’ Dexter said. He was about to go to the banqueting room when the duty inspector walked in.

‘We searched the whole of Castle Lane and the basement flat areas as best we could, using torches. I sealed the area off for a daylight search, but so far this is all we’ve found. It’s a Triumph car fob and key.’ He placed the item on the bar.

Dexter sighed. ‘Yes, I can see that, but it’s hardly likely to detonate a bomb… so, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go and eat.’

The duty inspector picked the key up and was about to walk off when Jane spoke up.

‘Excuse me, but I think there’s something else that could be important.’

The inspector stopped and Crowley turned to her as she looked towards Dexter, who was busy lighting a cigar.

‘Out with it…’ Crowley demanded.

‘Seeing the key fob reminded me of something… When Natalie rang my doorbell I looked out of the window…’

They all looked at her impatiently

‘The reason your teams didn’t pick her up at Baker Street station was—’

‘Yes, yes?’

‘She came by car. I saw the roof, a soft top… I’m sure it was a blue Triumph Herald. I mean, I can’t be positive, but I think I saw a blue soft-top car parked in the hotel concourse.’

Jane now had everyone’s attention. Crowley shrugged.

‘Probably coincidence. I mean, we disarmed the rucksack bomb and found the transmitter Natalie had, so…’

Dexter interrupted him banging his hand on the bar and turned to the inspector.

‘There’s something not right here… did the expo say how big the rucksack bomb was?’

The inspector nodded. ‘Yes, about a pound or two of TNT.’

Dexter picked up the car key. ‘He never had a detonator for the rucksack because Natalie failed to deliver it. He’s running for his life and chucks these away because he didn’t want us to find them or a connection to the car…’

Everyone’s attention was now on Dexter.

‘OK — this is the possibility: the rucksack could have been a primary device intended to cause some damage and mass panic.’

Church was very tense. ‘If it had gone off it would have killed or maimed any of the receptionists standing near it.’

‘That’s not the point, a small explosion may kill one or two, but it makes everyone else retreat away from it and run straight into the path of a much bigger secondary device!’

Crowley grasped the enormity of Dexter’s point. ‘If the rucksack went off while we were in here, then everyone would have run out the front of the hotel into the concourse parking area.’

‘Exactly… so I need to examine that Triumph right now.’ Dexter shook the key in his hand.

The duty inspector braced himself. ‘Shouldn’t we take it to a safer place to examine?’

Dexter glared at him. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Inspector Brian Curtis.’

‘Well, Inspector Curtis, you let an IRA terrorist plant a bomb and then do parking duties! So excuse me if I don’t listen to your opinion this time.’

Although it was Jane who had given them the heads-up about the car, no one was paying her any attention. The men grouped together to discuss what to do. Inspector Curtis said that he would start organising the evacuation of the building.

Crowley interjected. ‘I am the DCI from the Bomb Squad. It’s too dangerous to evacuate. People will be seriously injured if a car bomb goes off.’

Dexter agreed and said that as the banqueting hall was at the back of the hotel it was the safest place to be at present time. Looking a bit put-upon, Curtis said he’d do his best to keep everyone in situ without causing alarm.

Dexter stubbed out his cigar, took off his jacket and once again handed it to Jane. She saw him exchange a glance with Stanley, who nodded back. They headed towards the hotel reception entrance, followed by Crowley and Jane.

The rows of parked cars in the hotel concourse were illuminated by the lights from the hotel, and there were three lamps positioned on the brick wall of the private marked-out areas. The pale blue two-seater Triumph Herald was instantly noticeable due to its age; it was not in good condition and parked right by the hotel entrance. Surveying the now full parking area Jane could see why Dexter was concerned the reaction to a smaller device would make everyone run into the path of another bigger bomb.

Crowley calmly told the reception staff to make their way up to the banqueting room and asked one of the porters to get him a torch. Dexter turned to everyone, instructed them to stay back and, holding the torch, calmly walked over to the car. He seemed relaxed but Jane’s heart was pounding. ‘The Long Walk’ seemed to be happening in slow motion.

No one spoke as they watched Dexter peering into the car. He didn’t attempt to open the doors as he moved around the car, which was parked with the boot facing the low brick wall. He crouched down by the driver’s door and shone the torch around the rim of the door and the rubber seals before peering into the door lock. Gently, he eased the key into the door and slowly turned it, causing the push button lock to pop up. It was as if he was counting down time to himself as he carefully opened the door two inches and again checked around it before opening it further.

Stanley whispered to Jane, ‘He’s got nerves of steel.’

Dexter adjusted the two front seats as far forward as possible so he could get better access to the small rear section of the vehicle.

‘What’s he doing?’ Jane asked.

Crowley whispered, ‘The car could be rigged to explode so he’s checking as he goes. The best way to examine the boot lock is to enter from the inside… If it’s rigged, he can detach any tripwires connected to the boot lock before opening it.’

Dexter leaned into the car and removed a travel rug that had been spread across the back. Under the rug there were sticks of TNT, cling film wrapped gelignite, nails and other bits of loose metal. The upright section to the boot had already been cut away to allow the rear area to be crammed with explosives. He gently moved some of the explosives so he could shine the torch onto the boot lock.

The tension was palpable. No one could see clearly what Dexter was doing as he was crouched down looking inside the boot for what seemed like ages. Eventually he reappeared, walked back towards them, wiping the dripping sweat from his forehead.

‘It’s a big bomb, at least fifty pounds of gelignite and sticks of TNT attached to a clock timer that’s ticking…’

‘How long have we got? Crowley asked.

‘Don’t know. I can hear the clock, but can’t see it. It’s inside a cigar box similar to the one I was testing at Woolwich. That helps in some ways, as at least I have an idea of its make-up. The back of the car is packed with nails and other lethal crap intended to cause as much injury as possible. The boot is booby-trapped from the inside so I can’t open it with the key until I disarm the wires leading to the lock.’

Crowley was badly shaken. He looked, almost helplessly, at Dexter. ‘Can you do this?’

‘Yes. Just keep everyone away,’ Dexter said. ‘And get me some small sharp knives from the kitchen and wire clippers as quick as you can… We don’t know when it’s been programmed to explode, so every second counts. Is DS Lawrence here?’

‘Not yet. He’s coming but got held up at the lab examining the stuff from Wilde’s flat.’

Dexter turned to Stanley as Crowley went back into the hotel to find the equipment Dexter had requested.

‘You OK to work with me… hand me what I need?’ Dexter asked.

‘Sure… of course. But will you get it done before they serve the cheese and biscuits? My wife will be going ballistic sitting next to an empty chair all night.’

Dexter laughed. ‘It shoudn’t take long.’ He turned to Jane. ‘Go back to the dining room, Jane, it’s too dangerous to be out here.’

‘No, I’ll stay here.’

‘It’s not necessary… go inside.’

‘No…’ she said, through gritted teeth, holding his jacket tightly.

Church pulled out his packet of cigarettes and lit one, passing it to Dexter who took it and gave him a smile of thanks. Church then shook a cigarette out for himself and Jane asked if she could have one. She took one and leaned towards him as he struck a match, using the same flame to light one for himself. Although the wait seemed interminable it was only five minutes before Crowley returned with some kitchen knives and a leather folding case full of tools.

‘Found the tools in the basement maintenance office… they OK?’ He handed Dexter the tools.

‘Under the circumstances, they’ll have to do.’

Jane watched as Dexter and Stanley conferred, checking over the tools together. Dexter looked round at the rest of them.

‘If you insist on staying in the foyer then you should position yourselves further inside the entrance behind the pillars for protection…’ He smiled. ‘Just in case I cock up and it goes off.’

Grim-faced, Stanley took the torch and followed Dexter to the Triumph. Dexter handed him the tools and told him to place them on the front passenger seat and shine the torch inside the boot area. Stanley could now see the explosives. He was sweating as he crouched down next to Dexter and leaned forward into the cramped space.

Dexter grinned. ‘Man, this bomb is a biggy… it would blow this car park and anyone standing in it to smithereens…’

‘Let’s hope not,’ Stanley replied nervously. He could hear the clock ticking.

There were six wires running between the cigar box to the explosives and the lock of the boot. Stanley shone the torch around the boot.

Dexter grabbed Stanley’s arm. ‘Keep the torch steady on the cigar box, please.’

‘Sorry. Why are all the wires the same colour? I thought they’d be set up like a plug… You know, red, green and brown? Or is the earth yellow?’

‘They’re deliberately all the same colour to make it more difficult for me to know what’s what and which one to cut. Now, be quiet, unless you want to be blown up. Pass me the small paring knife.’

Easing the knife under the cigar box, Dexter lifted it a fraction and looked under it.

‘Devious bastards!’ he muttered under his breath. ‘There’s a small micro switch under the box so it will go off if I lift it… Get me a heavy spanner out of that tool kit.’

Stanley started to lift each spanner to feel their weight.

‘The biggest one will be the heaviest, Stanley, so just hand it to me.’

Dexter took the spanner from Stanley then eased the knife back under the cigar box, to hold the micro switch down while he slowly lifted the cigar box and put the spanner down in its place. Next, he checked the seal of the cigar box lid and satisfied it wasn’t booby-trapped, opened the box. Inside there was an alarm clock connected to a battery and circuit board with the wires running from them. Dexter could see that he only had three minutes left before the big hand made contact with a piece of metal attached to the clock, which would then detonate the bomb.

‘How long have we got?’ Stanley asked, his hand shaking.

Dexter lied. ‘Plenty of time. OK Stan, my man, gimme the torch and tool kit. You go back and join the others. Tell them all to go to the banqueting hall… just in case the bomb goes off.’

Stanley hesitated. ‘No, I’m OK.’

‘Well, I’m not. You’ve got a wife and kids, so just do as I ask.’

Stanley got out of the car and passed the tools and torch over to Dexter who carefully propped them up inside the boot. He then chose various clippers and scissors, and two Stanley knives from the tool kit, placing them next to him so they were easily to hand.

Stanley walked back into the hotel foyer and spoke quietly with Crowley, explaining that Dexter wanted to work alone and that it would take some time to defuse the device. Crowley dragged on his cigarette, his nerves on edge.

DCI Church peered around a pillar. ‘What could you see?’ he asked Stanley.

‘There’s an alarm clock and battery in a cigar box with wires leading to the explosives and the boot lock. He said there’s plenty of time left, but we should get further back in the hotel to the banqueting room… It scared me half to death.’

Inwardly Crowley knew something wasn’t right. Dexter had not made the booby-trapped car boot safe so he could get better access to the bomb. This could only mean he was running out of time.

Dexter picked up the wire clippers and, opening them, held them between one of the wires leading to the battery, but as they were all the same colour he wasn’t sure if the timer was rigged so that when he cut the wire the detonator would activate. He looked at the clock and saw that he only had one minute left. There was no time for indecision. His heart was beating like it never had before. There was only one course of action he could take, but whether it would work or not was in the hands of the gods.

He put the clippers to the wire attached to the detonator that was embedded in the explosives. With thirty seconds to go he closed his eyes and, cut the wire. When nothing happened, he breathed a huge sigh of relief, and, after removing the initiator by hand, cut the battery wires to the alarm clock, finally making the bomb safe.

Dexter switched the torch off, slowly got out of the car and began placing the tools he had used back into their holder. He shut the driver’s door, turned towards the expectant watchers and smiled as he held up the offending alarm clock. Crowley let out a sigh of relief.

‘He’s bloody done it!’

As Dexter joined them they crowded round him, but he simply waved his hand at them and placed the tools and torch down on the reception desk. He handed the clock to Crowley, as if he had won an award.

‘Job done… now I need a large drink and some food. And I want to win the crate of Moët in the raffle.’

Jane handed him his jacket.

‘I need to take a leak and clean myself up…’ he said.

‘We’re so proud of you, Dex… Congratulations! We were all so tense, willing you to succeed…’ Church clapped him on the shoulder.

‘Oh, come on… enough of all this… I want to get into that banqueting room. I’m starving!’ As Dexter walked away, jacket slung over the crook of his arm, he appeared nonchalant, but Jane could see that his shirt was soaked through with sweat.

DCI Church clapped his hands.

‘OK, everyone… show’s over! I suggest that we all do as our hero suggests and get back to enjoying the evening.’

As Jane accompanied them back into the reception she overheard Crowley speaking with Church.

‘He’s got nerves of steel… I’ll speak with DS Lawrence about having the vehicle removed to the explosives lab.’

As they headed towards the dining room it was clear that the word had got round and some detectives, flushed from the evening’s booze, were joking that the phrase ‘the party went off with a bang’ had nearly came true.

The frill at the bottom of Jane’s skirt was still trailing as she headed for the powder room in the hope that there was a cloakroom attendant who might have a needle and thread. There was a large cloakroom next to it, with rails of coats and jackets belonging to the female guests. A woman in a hotel uniform was standing behind the counter.

‘Do you have a needle and thread? I’ve had a bit of a problem with the edge of my dress.’

‘Just wait here, dear… I’ll see if I can find one for you.’

As she left the cloakroom, Alison, Stanley’s wife, barged into the cloakroom. She was obviously very angry as she began to search for her coat.

‘Alison… are you all right?’

‘No, I’m not. First, I am collected to be brought here, then I have had to sit throughout dinner with his empty chair next to me. Then in he comes with his shirt filthy, having lost his bow tie and a gold cufflink, and starts asking for dinner. I’m getting a taxi home!’

‘Don’t go, please… I don’t know how much I can tell you about tonight, but if it wasn’t for your husband I could have been killed. He’s incredibly brave, and hopefully eventually he can tell you about it himself…’

Alison bit her lip.

‘Besides, there’s still the raffle, and—’

‘That’s been going on for ages.’

‘Well, then there’s the band… All I can say is that your husband really is a very special and very brave man…’

Alison hesitated, then turned and headed out of the cloakroom. Jane went into the powder room. There were large mirrors hanging on the walls and Jane gasped at her reflection. There was a nasty red welt around her neck. She washed her hands, then opened her small evening bag and took out her powder and lipstick. She dampened some tissue paper and wiped her face, then dabbed powder around her neck to try and hide the mark, but it was still red raw.

As she went out she found the cloakroom attendant had returned with a needle and black cotton thread. Kneeling beside Jane she began to attempt to stitch the frill back in place.

‘I’m just going to do big hem stitches for now, but you need to get a professional seamstress. It’s delicate silk and some of the lace is torn.’

‘I’m so grateful… if you could please just do what you can so I don’t trip up again…’

In the dining room, standing on the small raised platform, two rather drunk officers were digging into a box of raffle tickets and shouting out the numbers using a microphone. There were cheers as the lucky ticket holders jumped up from their tables to claim their prizes. They were mostly bottles of gin, whisky and brandy, with a few more feminine prizes for the female guests; bottles of perfume and bath salts. As they were reaching the end of the raffle, Stanley was tucking into a large plate of cheese, biscuits and grapes, accompanied by a glass of red wine.

Alison sat down beside him as the last but one ticket was pulled out of the box.

The prize was dinner for two at the Savoy Hotel, and there was a loud bellow as Blondie Dunston stood up waving his winning ticket stub. He received a slow handclap as he went to collect the gold envelope. As the band began to set up, the last major prize was drawn: the crate of Moët & Chandon champagne.

‘Ticket number 409, ladies and gentleman… number 409. Donated by Minstral’s Wine, a crate of vintage champagne hand-delivered to your door…’

Dexter rose to his feet and waved his ticket stub as the room erupted into yells of ‘FIXED… FIXED!’ but he danced his way up to the platform. Crowley was up on his feet clapping and cheering and the insults turned into a stamp and handclap of applause as the flushed and smiling Dexter took the microphone.

‘I would like to hand over my winning ticket to a man who has proved himself above and beyond the call of duty tonight… my friend, DS Stanley. And now — let’s dance!’

There were a few loud and abusive remarks as Stanley stood up at his table. His face was like a young boy’s as he held his arms above his head and cheered. The band struck up and the small dance floor was cleared as guests started to move from their tables to dance.

Jane had arrived in the dining room in time to see Dexter pass his prize ticket to Stanley. Alison was smiling proudly as he guided her onto to the dance floor. They immediately collided with Edith, who was being whirled around by Maynard, his bow tie undone and his shirt tails hanging out of his trousers. Edith was wearing a black velvet sequinned gown with long strands of pearls that she continually swung around her neck. Together they looked like an overgrown schoolboy dancing with the inebriated school matron.

Jane was at a loss as to where she should sit, but just then DCI Church left his table with Crowley and Maynard, and their guests.

‘Come on, we’ve got some food at the table for you.’

She followed him to a large round table. It was full of used napkins and empty wine glasses but there were two fresh bottles of white and red wine. Jane sat down as Church pulled out a chair for her in front of a setting of salad, cheese and biscuits.

Church poured her a glass of red wine. Crowley was sitting beside her, next to a large woman in a sequinned jacket who was obviously rather tipsy. Opposite them were two forensic scientists she knew by sight from the explosives lab who were also clearly enjoying themselves, as were most of the other rowdy guests. Couples were dancing and throwing themselves around as the band struck up ‘Rock Around the Clock’. Suddenly the net above the dance floor was released and red and white balloons cascaded down from the ceiling, along with streamers and confetti.

Jane sipped her wine and cut a small slice of cheese as Crowley leant towards her.

‘I’m proud of you, of what you have done. You are a brave young woman. Believe me, it won’t go unnoticed.’

Jane nodded gratefully as he topped up her wine, then he gestured towards the woman in the sequin dress, who was knocking back her drink.

‘That’s my wife, Margaret… and you know those two rogues from the forensic science lab.’

He then almost turned his back completely to Jane as he suggested to his wife that they should be leaving. Church bent his head towards Jane and whispered.

‘She’s three sheets to the wind, and the forensic guys are plastered as well. You can relax, Tennison… everything is safe now, thanks to Dexter…’

‘Am I all right, sir?’

Church tilted his head to one side. ‘This is not the time or the place, Tennison.’

‘I know I have been a bit of a liability…’

‘That is putting it mildly, Tennison. Come in and see me tomorrow at midday, and we can talk everything over. Now, would you like to dance?’

‘Could I just have a few minutes, if you don’t mind? I’m really quite hungry.’

‘It’s a lucky escape, to be honest… I’ve got two left feet!’

Jane scoured the dance floor and the surrounding tables for Dexter. She eventually caught sight of him on the far side of the room, sitting at a table full of men. He was rocking back and forth in his chair, laughing.

She jumped as there was a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see DS Lawrence standing behind her, looking very smart in an elegant dinner jacket and a frilled shirt.

‘Hello, Jane. I just got here — missed all the action by the sound of things. You look lovely… which is more than I can say for Edith. I think a couple of guys had to help her out, after she attempted to rock and roll with Maynard!’

Jane laughed softly as Lawrence pointed across the room to the dance floor.

‘You seen Timex? He looks like an emperor penguin in that gear.’

Shepherd, known as Timex because he was always checking his watch, was the only man wearing a white tuxedo jacket with black trousers.

‘That’s his wife with him. Absolutely stunning, isn’t she? No wonder he always wants to clock off at five sharp and get home ASAP,’ Lawrence remarked. He leaned over to speak with Crowley, giving him an update on his work. The Triumph Herald had been double-checked before the car was towed away and it was all clear. Lawrence moved away from the table as Jane ate another slice of cheese.

DCI Church was now busy talking to Crowley and had left his packet of cigarettes on the table. Jane took one and picked up a box of matches that had been left next to the overflowing ashtray. She inhaled deeply as the band started playing ‘Blue Moon’ and the lights were lowered.

‘Ladies and gentlemen… the next song will be the last waltz. We hope you’ve all enjoyed your evening, and we wish you a safe journey home.’

Jane sat, smoking, and wondered if they had arranged a car or taxi to take her home. She stubbed out the cigarette and suddenly sat bolt upright as she felt a tingle down the back of her neck. Dexter leant down towards her, running his finger down her nape.

‘Can I have the last waltz?’

Jane nodded. He drew out her chair and took her hand. She felt herself blushing as Dexter guided her forwards and then slipped his arms around her.

‘You look lovely! Is your dress fixed? We don’t want to fall arse over…’

‘Yes, the cloakroom attendant sewed it up for me.’

He held her tighter, his face close to her hair. Stanley and Alison danced next to them. Alison seemed to have forgotten her anger and had her arms around her husband’s neck, resting her head on his shoulder. She was quite a few inches taller than him.

‘She’s going to need you tonight, Dexter… she’s got twenty-five buttons at the back of her dress, and there’s no way she can undo them herself,’ Stanley said.

‘How do you know?’ Dexter asked, grinning.

‘I got her into it!’

Alison looked up from Stanley’s shoulder and shook her head. ‘Honestly, you say the rudest things! What if she doesn’t want him to go home with her? Mind you, if it was me I’d jump at the chance.’

‘ALISON!’ Stanley said, whisking her away as she laughed and said she was only joking.

Dexter tilted Jane’s chin up and at the same time ran his hand down the back of her dress.

‘Do you need me to help get you out of this?’

‘Yes, I do…’

They didn’t wait for the waltz to end. In the car park, the blue Triumph Herald was being loaded onto a flat-bottom truck under Lawrence’s supervision. Seeing Jane, he waved her goodnight.

Dexter kept his arm around her shoulder as they headed into the road and hailed a taxi to take them to her flat.

‘Well, that was certainly some event,’ he said, casually.

‘Yes, I won’t forget it for a long time… I still can’t believe it all happened.’

‘Without you, Jane Tennison, it wouldn’t have been nearly as exciting, never mind conclusive.’

‘It was exactly as you told me… you know, remembering him from Covent Garden. When I did recognise him, I just froze.’

Dexter stared out of the window and said quietly that he didn’t want to talk about it. He sat slightly apart from her as she tried to think of something to say to him.

‘That was so nice of you to give Stanley your raffle prize.’

‘It was all down to Crowley fixing it for me to win… He’s an odd man… doesn’t know how to look you in the face and show you his appreciation, but basically he’s an all right old so-and-so.’

‘He told me tonight that he would look after me… He wants to see me in his office tomorrow.’

‘You should get a commendation for what you’ve brought to the table, never mind what you were subjected to by that two-faced bitch. She’ll be under tough interrogation… But when she finds out her bomber pal is mincemeat she might crack and give details about their cell, and name other IRA members.’

‘You don’t think it will go against me that I was so taken in by her?’

Dexter shrugged, not wanting to say that it very well could be an issue. Instead he pulled his wallet out of his jacket and took out some money to pay for the taxi. They drew up outside her flat and Jane unlocked the main front door, hitching up her long skirt to walk up the stairs as Dexter followed behind her.

On entering her flat she switched on the hall lights and tossed her evening bag onto the breakfast bar in her kitchen.

‘Would you like a coffee or anything?’

‘No thanks, nothing… unless you have any brandy?’

‘I’m afraid not…’

‘That’s OK… Let’s get you out of that dress.’

They went into her bedroom, which was still untidy from the search for her necklace. Jane quickly replaced the cushions on the bed and rearranged the valance where Stanley had lifted it and found the detonator underneath.

‘Stanley had to hide in the wardrobe in Pearl’s old room. Natalie really sent shock waves when she rang the doorbell.’

‘I’d say our pal Stanley has probably done a lot of nipping into wardrobes when taken by surprise!’ He laughed.

Dexter took Jane by her shoulders and slowly turned her around so that her back was facing him. He began undoing the tiny buttons, and as he did so he bent his head and kissed her bare back, loosening one button after another.

‘My God, these are fiddly! Some of the buttonholes are really tight.’

By the time he had undone them, the top of her dress had slipped down, revealing her black strapless bra. She caught it in her hands, embarrassed.

‘Well, that was a job well done!’

‘Thank you…’

Dexter sat on the edge of her bed as she stood in front of him wanting, more than anything, for him to take her in his arms.

‘I need to be straight with you, Jane… I think you’re sweet, and sexy, and I would like to stay here with you all night. I think that’s what you want as well. I could be wrong, and maybe that’s my ego talking, but, like I just said, I want to be straight with you. I really like you, but if I sleep with you tonight it will be harder for you to understand that that is all it would be. I don’t want a relationship.’

‘I understand,’ Jane said, close to tears.

Dexter stood up and cradled her in his arms. ‘No… don’t say that… don’t make it any harder. I’m going to go, Jane.’

Dexter held her at arm’s length and looked at her through what suddenly seemed like cruel blue eyes.

‘You don’t understand Jane… I need to get fucked tonight… fucked rigid… because it’s the only way I’m going to release all the pent-up shit inside me. And I’m not going to use you for that, because you are worth far more.’

Dexter walked out of her bedroom, and Jane slumped down on her bed as she heard the front door close behind him. She felt as if her heart was breaking as she reached for his faded James Dean T-shirt and held it to her face.

Dexter lit a cigar as he stepped into the phone box. He took some change from his pocket and dialled a number, waiting for it to be picked up. It was after midnight but he knew she would be up. Her husky, laconic, bedroom voice answered.

‘Pauline, it’s me.’

‘You’re lucky I got a good memory for voices, Dex. You think all my clients say “it’s me” and expect me to know who it is? What you want?’

‘Two of your best. Send them over in about half an hour, all right?’

‘Cab fare on top, darlin’…’

‘Yeah, OK.’

Dexter hung up and stared at his reflection in the small square mirror above the phone. He looked haunted and there were deep circles beneath his pale blue eyes. The incredible adrenaline he had felt that night had left him mentally exhausted and now he needed to feel the same way physically. Pauline’s girls would ensure that, and when they left him he would sleep.

Jane was surprised that she was able to switch off, and when her alarm clock rang in the morning she could hardly believe she had slept so deeply. Her dress was still on the bedroom floor where she had stepped out of it, and there was a trail of underwear from the bedroom to the bathroom.

She pulled on her old towelling dressing gown and went into the kitchen to make herself some eggs and bacon. She was ravenously hungry.

By the time she had tidied her bedroom, showered and dressed, it was almost nine o’clock. The phone rang in the hallway.

‘Hi there… it’s Michael. Are you still free tonight? I was wondering if you’d like to see a movie and then maybe have dinner?

‘You know, I would really like that.’

‘Great! Do you want to leave me to choose which film, or do you have one you’d like to see?’

‘No, you choose.’

‘Done. Let me pick you up at around seven… does that suit?’

‘Yes, that’s perfect.’

‘See you later. Is everything all right with you?’

‘Yes, Michael, everything’s fine… I’m really looking forward to seeing you.’

Jane replaced the receiver and rested her hand on the telephone. Michael was very different from Dexter. He was nice and dependable, and obviously cared for her. Deep down she was certain that Dexter cared too, and that was the reason he had walked away. She caught sight of his T-shirt on the floor next to her bed, where she had thrown it down last night.

Picking it up, she put it in the wastebin.