‘Where did he go?’ Jane asked with excitement and relief.
‘Don’t know — they lost him up by a multistorey car park in Great Eastern Street. It’s possible he sussed he was being tailed. Anyway, they’re sitting on his mum’s flat to see if and when he returns. The reason I’m here is because all this is happening as a result of you recognizing his voice on the tape and a lot of East Londoners sound the same so—’
‘I am honestly sure it was him on the tape.’ She licked her lips nervously.
‘OK, he may be up to something, but he could also be working as a legit decorator. He had someone with him, but as yet we don’t know who it was, other than a younger-looking white male. We also found out his dad Clifford has just been released from prison.’
‘Do you want me to go into the station to type and index the reports?’
‘Not much point at the moment. There’s a shedload of banks in the area where we lost him, and Hatton Garden with all the jewellery shops is just up the road.’
‘So do you think Ashley Brennan could be right?’
‘Who knows, but we’re going to try and find out. However, with the RCA equipment your report said he had, and bearing in mind some enquiries I made about it, he could actually be hearing someone talking in Brighton. We’ll start from the point of his flat and work outwards, but even if we schlep all over London we may never pinpoint where the calls were coming in from.’
‘Were there any banks near the car park?’
He sighed, irritated. ‘Yeah, like I just said, there’s loads of them in the area, but none have reported a robbery or anything suspicious.’
‘Sorry, I just wondered,’ she replied, feeling embarrassed.
He suddenly leaned towards her, staring into her eyes. She blinked rapidly with nerves, and as she swallowed he gently touched her cheek.
‘If you are wrong about Bentley’s voice then I’m wasting a lot of manpower, time and money.’
Before Jane could reply, the section house sergeant walked in, frowned and said there was an urgent call for Bradfield at the reception desk. Bradfield asked for the call to be transferred through to the sergeant’s office so he could talk in private and told Jane to follow him.
Jane waited outside and a few minutes later he came out rubbing his hands together and looking pleased.
‘OK, that was DS Gibbs. He’s just visited the registered owner of the van Bentley was driving. It was in Kingston and he’s a decorator, but surprise, surprise, the bloke’s been working locally all day and his van was parked outside. So that means John Bentley’s driving a ringer.’
‘What’s a ringer?’ Jane asked.
‘Bentley’s using copied index plates, so he’s probably no decorator.’
Bradfield started to walk away and Jane hesitated, not sure what to do, when he stopped and turned to face her.
‘Thanks for your help. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t instigating a wild goose chase, but now with the added info from Spence I think we may be on to something. The lads checking out Great Eastern Street said there’s a Trustee Savings Bank next to a café and a tailor’s shop nearby that’s had a light on all evening, so I’m going there now to check it out.’
‘Do you need me with you?’
‘No, sweetheart, I’m bringing Kath in as I’ve put her on acting detective duties. Besides, we gotta make further enquiries. Go and get some sleep as you’ve got uniform early shift in the morning.’
She felt insulted, as if he was treating her like a child, but he was gone before she had the opportunity to say anything.
Untroubled by events above ground, the frustrated and exhausted threesome in the basement of Silas’s café were working harder than ever before. The tunnel was progressing well and was secured with wooden supports.
From his vantage point David could see with his binoculars there were lights on in the tailor’s shop near the café. The main window had a curtain pulled across it, so it was impossible for him to see directly inside the shop. A small blue Morris Minor van pulled up outside the tailor’s and a short, stumpy-looking bald man got out of the driver’s side. He then opened the rear doors and lifted out two armloads of what appeared to be plastic-wrapped dry-cleaning. As he approached the front of the tailor’s a woman opened the door and took some of the items from him. A few minutes later the man left in the Morris Minor van and returned half an hour later with another bundle of plastic-wrapped clothes, which he took inside the shop.
David was concerned and pressed the button on his walkie-talkie to make contact with his brother in the café. Silas answered and listened as David told him about the activity outside the tailor’s shop, but as it was four shops down he was not unduly worried. John came on the radio and told David to keep contact to a minimum, unless it was something really important.
It was coming up to almost 10 p.m. when David saw a man wearing a baseball cap and raincoat walking arm in arm with a woman along the street. They stopped by the tailor’s and the man pressed the bell. After a while he saw the blind on the entrance door lift and the short stumpy man let the couple in before closing the door behind them. It didn’t appear suspicious, even at that late hour, and David just assumed it was someone who had arranged a fitting or was picking up some clothes.
However, Mannie Charles, the shop owner, was totally freaked out when DCI Bradfield and Kath Morgan showed their warrant cards and asked to have a chat with him.
Bradfield, in case of a lookout in the vicinity, had parked the unmarked CID car down a side street and walked to Mannie’s shop. Bradfield knew who Mannie Charles was, but had never actually met him until now.
‘Oy vey, you’re giving me heart failure. I done nothing wrong, I swear on my son’s life — it’s all kosher,’ Mannie pleaded nervously as Bradfield followed him in.
Bradfield calmed him down. ‘Nothing to do with your business, Mannie. I just want to ask a few questions you might be able to help us with.’ He looked around the dimly lit shop which was stacked with rolls of fabric on shelves lining the walls. On the counter there were more rolls of fabric and some swatches, along with two tailor’s dummies draped in a pinstriped wool material.
‘I’ve only just collected the suits from the Horne warehouse manager, but I should have all the alterations done by mid-week and ready for delivery,’ he said, and pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket before continuing. ‘Let’s see. Ah, Mr Bradfield, I got you down for dark navy with silk lining, double-breasted and very good quality, a forty chest, thirty-four waist, thirty-six inside leg. Is that right, Mr Bradfield?’
Kath was puzzled, wondering exactly what Mannie was on about as Bradfield smiled and said he had ordered a new suit, but that was not what he had come about.
‘My wife’s out the back. She’s working on the suits I’ve just brought in. I can fit yours now, make sure it’s just right.’
Bradfield said he was sure the suit would be fine and his wife might be able to help with their enquiries, though this just seemed to worry Mannie even more and he said she was a bit of a klutz. The three of them headed through a door with mottled-glass panels which led into the sewing and fitting room. It was larger than the shop front, with a tall window at the back that had brown paper plastered across it and metal security bars. Next to it there was a heavy metal door that was padlocked, which obviously led to the back yard of the premises. Two big electric sewing machines dominated the room, and there were tables and more stacks of wool and linen samples. Mrs Charles, a diminutive woman with a curved back, was sitting by an old-fashioned pedal-operated sewing machine. She peered over the rim of her half-moon glasses as they entered.