What I was waiting for now was the sound of Sammy's voice over my headphones. As soon as I was receiving him loud and clear, I'd nip back to the junction box, restore the telephone to full working order, and leave the receiver in my car wired up to a very clever tape recorder that a sound engineer friend of Richard's built for me. It links the mechanisms of six Walkmans to a signal-activated mike/receiver. When the bug's signal comes in, the first tape starts running. When the counter mechanism hits a certain number, it sets tape two running and switches off tape one. And so on. So, it gives a minimum of six hours recording time when you're not actually there listening in.
Five minutes later, I heard, 'Two sugars, love,” booming in my ears. Thanks to Sammy, I was all wired up and ready to roll. Half an hour later, I was back in the office, ready to debrief Bill. He was, of course, horrified about my brush with death on Barton Bridge. Together we went through Paul's photos and the report from his surveillance of PharmAce, Bill muttering into his thick blond beard about the temerity of anyone who would mess with his partner.
'Paul's done a good job there. You did absolutely the right thing, laying him on like that,' he rumbled, shuffling the pics together into a neat pile. 'I'll go and see them this afternoon.' He got to his feet, shouting, 'Shelley? Get Brian Chalmers at PharmAce and tell him I'm on my way to see him.'
'Wait a minute,' I protested, angry at what felt like Bill pulling rank. 'I'd planned to take those pictures over myself.'
'I'm sure you did,' he said. 'And I don't have a problem with the way you've handled things. But I want someone with Chalmers when he fronts up the lab technician. And I'd rather it was me if only to show this creep that he's up against more than a one-woman show. If it was him that ran you off the road, he's got to be made to realize that there's no point in trying to write you off because it's not just you who knows what he's up to. Besides, we need a lot more information about this stolen van, and you've got enough on your plate right now with your missing conservatories.'
I couldn't find any good reason for arguing with Bill. Personally, if I had his six foot plus towering over me, I'd admit to just about anything to get him to back off. So I left him to it. On my way out the door, I picked up the hand-held computer scanner which had been his monthly contribution to the office gadget mountain back in June. At last, I had found a use for it. As I crossed the outer office, Shelley said, 'Ted Barlow's been on. That's the second time today. He's really starting to get desperate. He says he can pay his staff this week's wages, but he's not sure about next week. He wants to know if he should warn them or whether you think you'll have sorted it out by then.'
I sighed. 'I'm doing my best, Shelley,' I said.
'Can't you do it a bit faster, Kate? Ted's scared he's going to lose his business.'
'Shelley, I'm dancing as fast as I can, OK,' I snapped, and stomped into my office. I'm ashamed to admit that I slammed the door. Unfortunately, I used the muscles that were still solid as a rock from the accident, so I lost out on comfort as well as dignity. Just to put the tin lid on it, the vibration of the door caused the last three leaves on the rubber plant to fall off. I threw the plant in the bin and made a note to stop by the florist in the morning. I'd had nine weeks out of that rubber plant, which was approaching a record for me and the chlorophyll kingdom.
I picked up the phone, dialled Josh's number and asked for Julia. I've never actually met her but her voice conjures up this image of a bright-eyed blonde with her hair in a neat bun, a Country Casuals suit and the hips of a girl raised on the Pony Club. The nearest I ever got to that was reading Bunty.
'Hello, Kate,' she enthused down the phone at me. 'Fabulous little challenge, darling!' I swear she really does say 'darling'.
'Any joy?' I asked gruffly. For some reason Julia always brings out the peasant in me.
'I only tried three of them,' she said. 'With the charges all being held by the same finance company, I had to be a little bit cautious. However, the interesting thing is that, in each case, what we're looking at is a hundred percent remortgage. The people I spoke to all said the same thing. "There's not a shilling of equity left for your client." So there you have it, Kate.'
I could have kissed her. But she'd probably have misunderstood and taken my name off her database. I thanked her prettily, just like my mother always told me to, put down the phone and yelled 'Yo!' in satisfaction. The way things were heading, I was going to make Shelley a very happy woman.
I booted up my computer and entered my notes. Then I used the scanner on the Land Registry documents and saved them all to disc. It wasn't as easy as it was supposed to be, since the scanner had the unhelpful tendency to turn things into gobbledygook unless I kept my hand steady as a rock. I felt virtuous enough after all that to ring Richard and suggest a movie that evening. 'Sorry, Brannigan,” he said. 'I'm going to a rave.'
Richard may be four years older than me, but at times he makes me feel like my Granny Brannigan. Except that my Irish Granny B would probably love the idea of an all-night party where you can dance as much as you want. She'd even feel at home with the smell of the Vicks Vapor Rub that the ravers massage each other with in their bizarre search to improve the high of the designer drug cocktails they swallow. 'Why?' I asked.
I could picture the shrug. 'I need to keep in touch. Besides, they've got this new DJ. He's only thirteen and I want to take a look.' Thirteen. Dear God, the Little Jimmy Osmond of Acid House. 'You can come if you want,' he added.
'I think I'll pass, Richard. Nothing personal, but frankly I'd rather go on a stake-out.' At least I could choose the music. At least I'd be able to recognize what I was hearing as music…
I left the office just after four, picked up a pizza from the local trattoria and headed back out to Stockport in the Little Rascal. I parked round the corner from the target house, strolled round to the Fiesta and checked out the tape machine. The third was rolling, and I had a quick listen on the headphones. Blue Peter, by the sound of it. That's the trouble with Elint (electronic intelligence, or bugs to you). It has as much discrimination as a hooker on smack. I restrained myself from listening in to the rest of the Blue Peter tape, helped myself to the two I'd made earlier, and locked up the Fiesta.
Back in the van, I munched my pizza and listened to the tapes. The first one featured ten minutes of small talk with Sammy, a phone call to the hairdresser, a phone call to a friend who whined for twenty minutes about her business, her ex and her garage bill. Then the TV had gone on, its tinny sound an interesting contrast to the live voices I'd been hearing. An Australian soap, then a pre-teen comedy drama, then cartoons. I whizzed through the programmes on double speed, ear cocked for any more real conversations amongst the Mickey Mouse squeaks. Nothing.
Bored, I went back to the Fiesta and listened in again. By now, we were on to Granada Reports. Why couldn't my target have been one of these quiet, refined people who don't feel the need of some kind of audio wallpaper? I reset the recording machine with fresh tapes and decided to give my eavesdropping another hour before heading home. I reminded myself that I had a right to some free time of my own. Besides, I was feeling cold and stiff and I was longing to get to grips with my latest computer game purchase. Civilization promised to be the most enthralling strategy game I'd played for a long time, taking the player from the dawn of man to the space age. So far, I hadn't been able to get much further than settlements of tent dwellers who'd just discovered the wheel before the barbarians came along and clobbered us.