Lenny Dakin owned a large sea-going motor-cruiser berthed at the marina. And if — a big IF — the information Henry had received was correct, he would be coming out to catch the tide; this meant that when he passed into the lock, he would be trapped for at least fifteen minutes.
But if Hinksman wasn’t aboard, there wasn’t much point in having him trapped.
Henry and Donaldson were wearing earpieces so they could listen to the radio transmissions from the various police officers who were hidden around the dock. Some were armed, but the main firearms team had been put on standby at a caravan site next to the road leading into Glasson, about a minute away from the dock.
So far they had been unable to say which boat belonged to Dakin. There were several good class cruisers and it could be anyone of them. They didn’t want to get in too close for a nosy just in case Dakin was spooked and the operation was spoiled.
Henry shook himself out of his reverie and consulted his watch.
‘ Not long before the tide turns,’ he commented. ‘If he doesn’t go out on this one, then we’ll be here another twelve hours. Makes me wonder if this is really going to happen.’
‘ It’s all we’ve got,’ said Donaldson.
‘ I feel so fucking useless just sitting here,’ Henry said bitterly. He wasn’t too far from tears. ‘If Kate’s injured or hurt or worse, I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle it. I feel like cracking now.’
‘ Look, if this information is good,’ Donaldson tried to placate and motivate him, ‘this is the best place to be. He’ll turn up and we’ll grab him. I’m sure of it.’
Their earpieces crackled into life.
‘ Charlie Delta Two to control.’
‘ Charlie Delta Two, go ahead,’ came the voice of Karen in the communications room at Lancaster. She had taken over the helm with FB by her side.
Henry and Donaldson listened carefully. This was the voice of the officer hidden in a hedge near to the roadside entrance to the marina.
‘ Target One approaching site. Three on board. Repeat: Target One approaching site, three on board.’
‘ Yes!’ said Henry triumphantly, clenching a fist.
This meant that Dakin had arrived at the marina in his Bentley with two other persons.
There was silence on the airwaves for another two minutes. Then: ‘Charlie Delta Six to control.’ This officer had an elevated view of the marina from binoculars on a hillside.
‘ Go ahead.’
‘ Confirm Target One on site in company with two others, both male
… cannot ID them but fairly sure not Target Two, repeat NOT Target Two.’
‘ Damn,’ said Henry. This meant that Hinksman wasn’t either of the two others.
‘ Don’t worry,’ Donaldson said. ‘He’ll come.’
‘ Charlie Delta Six — all three men have left the vehicle parked up and have climbed on board a motor-cruiser. Can’t see the name. Now all out of sight.’
Karen acknowledged him. The radio went silent again.
Dakin was on board.
Henry rubbed his temples with the base of his thumbs. ‘This is doing my head in.’
‘ Mine too,’ Donaldson confessed ruefully.
Five minutes of radio silence passed. The weather seemed to worsen. Rain started to drive down.
‘ Charlie Delta Six to control.’ He sounded quite excited. ‘A motor-cruiser has moved off from the marina and is headed towards the lock.’
Instinctively Henry reached underneath his anorak and touched the butt of his revolver with his fingertips.
‘ Patrols are reminded to keep well out of sight of the incident area,’ Karen warned sternly over the air. ‘I repeat…’ This was a warning that everyone involved should keep well away from, and out of sight of, the lock — with the exception of Henry and Donaldson who were running the show.
From their position in the cafe the two detectives had an uninterrupted view of the lock, some 100 metres away.
The lock-keeper came out of his cottage. He dropped the barriers across the road to stop all traffic, though there was none at that time. He then got to work on swinging the section of single-track road, which bridged the lock, to one side and securing it with chains. It wasn’t as hard a task as it seemed as the bridge was geared and on well-oiled runners.
As he was busy doing this, a motor-cruiser appeared at the lock gates.
‘ Here he is,’ said Henry, sliding down low on his chair and pulling up his collar. ‘Looks like Dakin’s at the helm.’ He wasn’t particularly au fait with nautical terms. ‘I don’t recognise the two others.’
‘ Gofers,’ Donaldson said dismissively.
The lock-keeper had secured the bridge and now began to push open the upper lock-gates. They opened slowly and the boat slid majestically into the lock.
Donaldson whistled appreciatively. ‘Nice boat.’
Henry agreed. ‘He’s in a profitable business — and if I can prove he bought it from the proceeds of crime, I’ll get it seized.’
The boat was a Trader 50 which Dakin had owned since new, and was laid out with four double cabins. The twin Caterpillar 210 engine gave it a good long range at IS knots. Its specification was excellent and included a generator, air conditioning, 48-mile radar, autopilot, galley equipped with three fridges, a freezer, washing machine and microwave, plus a dinghy, life-raft and awnings.
Dakin’s two gofers — dressed totally inappropriately in T-shirts and jeans — wrapped ropes around the bollards on the side of the lock opposite to where Henry and Donaldson were sitting. Dakin seemed to be shouting obscenities at them. Their faces, when Henry could see them, registered apathy, as though they didn’t want to be there.
The lock-keeper closed the upper lock-gates.
In a few moments he would transfer his attention to the lower gates, when he would open the gate paddles to allow water to flow out into the dock, out of the lock chamber.
Dakin was trapped. It would be an easy task to board the boat now. ‘Well, shall we?’ Donaldson turned to Henry, eyebrows raised. ‘You’re in charge, pal. Everyone’s waiting on you.’
Henry gave a noncommittal shrug. ‘If I knew he was on board, I’d say yes. But I don’t want to blow it, because if he isn’t, we’ve lost a good job for when Dakin comes back in loaded to the nines with drugs.’
‘ Yeah. I understand the quandary-’ Donaldson was stopped in mid sentence by Henry’s hand clamping on his arm. A van had pulled up on the far side of the lock. The driver got out and walked, head bowed against the wind and rain, towards the boat. It was virtually impossible to make out his features.
Henry said, ‘It’s him,’ hoarsely. ‘It’s Hinksman.’ He was sure. He felt his heart rate increase. ‘Where’s Kate? What the hell’s he done to her?’
‘ You sure it’s him?’ Donaldson questioned, peering through the window.
‘ Positive.’
Hinksman stepped across onto the boat.
‘ Let’s give him a second or two,’ Henry said. He spoke into his radio to appraise everyone of the situation, telling them to hold back for his word.
Hinksman went into the cabin and started talking to Dakin.
A second car stopped on the other side of the road, near to where Hinksman had parked his van. The horn blared angrily. A man climbed out and walked to the edge of the lock.
‘ Jesus Christ,’ uttered Henry in disbelief. ‘It’s Dave August, I’m sure it is.’
‘ What in the name of damnation is he doing here?’ Donaldson said.
‘ Dakin!’ August shouted. ‘Lenny Dakin!’
‘ Fuck off,’ one of the henchmen replied.
Dakin stepped out of the cabin with Hinksman just one pace behind him. ‘What do you want?’
‘ You Lenny Dakin?’
‘ Aye.’