She sent Jack to the shops with Hannah, to buy two specific bottles of red wine, a decent brandy and some cheeses — whilst Maggie was given the task of setting the table. She was under strict instructions to use their best glasses, one for wine and one for iced water, and their white cotton napkins normally reserved for Christmas. Penny was firmly in control, with Maggie and Jack acting like the hired help.
Maggie slinked from the kitchen and raced out of the front door, desperate to catch Jack before he vanished down the street towards the shopping precinct. ‘You know what day it is, don’t you?’ They both knew that her question was pointless: Jack had no clue what she was talking about. ‘We said we’d do something really special this year because she helps us beyond words. And now look! We’ve both forgotten.’
‘Oh, shit!’ Jack had stopped in his tracks. ‘Mum’s birthday.’ His attitude changed in a flash as he became Mr Fixit. ‘Don’t worry. I’m on the way to the shops. I’ll sort it. You get back before she notices you’ve gone.’ As Jack hurried off down the street, Maggie was under no illusions that he would come back with something that screamed ‘last-minute gift’. But they’d both forgotten Penny’s birthday, so she’d have to bear her fair share of the weight of the embarrassment that would accompany whatever Jack chose.
By the time Jack got home, the kitchen looked and smelled magnificent. Maggie took Hannah up for a bath, then bed, whilst Penny unpacked the shopping. Jack kept one bag back without her noticing... then he slipped away whilst Penny chose which bottle of red wine she wanted to serve first and removed the cap to let it breathe.
By 7 p.m. Hannah was asleep and Maggie was in the lounge trying to find out what Jack had bought for his mum so she’d know how apologetic she’d need to sound. But he was giving nothing away. Their mini-argument was brought to an abrupt end by a firm knock on the front door that echoed down the hallway. Penny spun and looked at the kitchen clock — Josh was bang on time. She whipped the pinny from her waist and threw it into the washing machine.
As Penny stepped into the lounge, straightening her skirt, her enthusiasm for hosting a home-cooked meal made Jack smile with pride: all he’d told her was that a friend from work, who was originally from Alabama, missed his mamma’s cooking, and this was the result. Penny had taken on the role of surrogate ‘mamma’ and decided to cook up a feast. All to make him feel at home in a foreign country. And on her birthday which, right now, she must be presuming would pass by without a mention.
Josh had brought a bottle of the exact same red wine that was currently breathing in the centre of the table — and a treacle sponge! Penny took this as a sure sign that he was a lovely, well brought-up young man. And she loved his accent. ‘Thank you, ma’am, for cooking for me tonight. It smells amazing.’
Penny thanked Josh for coming, poured four glasses of wine, then instructed everyone to go into the lounge whilst she prepared the starter. Once in the lounge, Jack said they had around fifteen minutes to talk about the case.
‘Well,’ Josh began, ‘no one’s tried to get their drugs out of the cellar yet, which means they’re either happy to lose that amount of product or they know we’re watching. My gut tells me they don’t know we have surveillance on the property. There’s no sign that anybody’s getting twitchy; the private plane hasn’t moved in weeks.’
Jack was still finding it hard to gauge the size of this particular operation. But Josh, from past experience, had a better sense of scale.
‘They’re small. At the top, I mean. There are a lot of tentacles spreading across UK cities, which makes it feel like a huge gang, but only a handful of real decision makers. That keeps them safe, but it can also make them slow on the ground. The fire, for example: they should have swooped in and cleaned that place out before the ashes were cold. The fact they didn’t suggests they might not have the resources. They’re smart though: all we’re seeing are the low-lifes, sneaking around in balaclavas, mixing, cutting and bagging the drugs.’ Josh chose his next words carefully. ‘They’re hired drug workers, doubling as muscle who’ll get rid of witnesses thinking they’re... oh, what’s that thing you guys say? Oh yeah, thinking they’re the dog’s bollocks.’ Josh, fleetingly embarrassed by his own language, flicked his eyes to Maggie. ‘Pardon me, ma’am. They’re not the dog’s you-know-whats. They’re the expendable dumb asses... pardon me again.’
Maggie assured Josh that she wasn’t offended by bad language; although Penny would object if he did it at the dinner table. ‘Oh Maggie! The dinner table is for polite conversation; no drugs talk, no murder, no swearing.’
Josh went on to explain that, in the US, the drug gangs have an army of lookouts employed to do nothing but sit outside houses like Avril Jenkins’ and report on who comes and who goes. And if the lookout failed to spot a drug factory being infiltrated by the cops, he’d be shot. No questions asked. ‘This gang, apparently, doesn’t even know that we put their own security system on a loop, so they can’t see us moving around inside.’ Josh took a mouthful of wine, clearing half a glass in one gulp. ‘There are inconsistencies. Contradictions. Sometimes I think they really got their shit together, sometimes I can’t believe we haven’t caught them yet!’
Jack picked up the conversation as Maggie refilled everyone’s glasses, emptying the first bottle of wine. ‘I get that this might be small-fry to you, Josh. But getting this volume of lethal drugs off the streets is a big win for us.’
‘It’s all relative, Jack. I’m not playing this down. What I think you have here is a dealer who’s been around a long time. He knows how to play the game and, crucially, he knows when to fold. My guess is that he started as a runner and worked his way up, thinking he could do things better... and he is. He’ll have hundreds of properties like Avril’s place. From the outside, there’s nothing to see. But inside...’ Josh sucked in a long whistle, then smiled. ‘But, like I said, it’s all relative. I come from a country where neighbours get all “high noon” over a parking spot. If our gang had succeeded in getting rid of Avril Jenkins, and shipped their haul off her property, we’d be none the wiser. Some big-time shit hit some big-time fans for them that night because a fire started. The top man must be pissed off and those small-fry further down the chain will be shitting bricks round about now. We want to get those small-fry while they’re scared and offer them a way out.’
Penny’s voice sang out from the kitchen: ‘Rea-dy!’
In Amsterdam, Garritt had spent Saturday morning investigating the leads that Laura had texted across, and had narrowed Anik’s search down from the seven locations she had sent him to one: the cadets’ training college. ‘I did two years as an Army Cadet and the man who taught me...’ Garritt shook his head as though there were no words to describe his old mentor. ‘Sergeant Bosch... there’s nothing he doesn’t know.’
Twenty minutes later, Garritt was driving to the college. He asked Anik what the uniformed Dutch man had to do with a murdered Chinese girl and a stolen painting. Anik had to admit that he didn’t know. ‘This case has taken several twists and turns which we hope will all eventually lead to the same place. And the same person. The woman in the picture, next to the Dutch military officer, was murdered in the same place as Jessica Chi. And each time we ask a question, we get an answer we didn’t expect — like the fact that Jessica had a stolen Rossetti. I dread to think what your old mentor is going to tell me.’
The cadet training college was closed, and the only sign of life was the elderly man in an ill-fitting security uniform sitting in a security booth drinking coffee from a flask. Garritt parked just short of the booth and got out. As soon as the men saw each other, they beamed the biggest of smiles and exchanged a tight embrace.