Picture You Dead

82

Tuesday, 5 November

On the top-right corner of the CCTV on his computer monitor, Piper tracked the movement of the silver Ford Focus heading down his drive. The gates opened. The car pulled out into the road and turned right. Immediately the gates began to close.

The two detectives had gone, but he had a worrying feeling they were not going away for long. It was 11.35 a.m. He picked up the internal phone and pressed a button.

‘Bobby, I want you to phone Harry Kipling’s mobile, find out where he is. Make out you’re a potential customer and you need an urgent quote on a job, a big one, make some shit up that will excite him. Find out his movements – what time he’ll be home this evening, say he’s been highly recommended but you have to make an urgent decision and could you pop into his house this evening – it’s the only time you can do, yadda, yadda, yadda. Get him to agree an appointment at his house tonight, understand what I’m saying?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Then get your arse in here along with the boys.’

Piper put the phone down and stared at the monitor again. At the closed gates. Then he tapped his trim fingernails on the surface of his desk, tap-tap-tapping out the same monotone beat he always did when he was anxious. Hoping to hell he wasn’t already too late.