Nothing Ventured(41)
“Good morning, this is the BBC. The prime minister…”
William blinked, rubbed his eyes, and looked across at the house to see a light beaming from the top floor. Instantly he was wide awake, his heart beating furiously. A few moments later the light on the top floor went off, and a light on the ground floor came on. William opened his bottle of water, took a swig, and was splashing a few drops on his face when the front door opened and Carter appeared carrying a bulky leather holdall, which he placed in the boot of his car before climbing into the driver’s seat. It took him three attempts before the engine spluttered into life.
The Volvo pulled out of the drive. William eased his car across the road, leaving the lights off. Carter turned right at the end of the road and William followed, keeping his distance as there were few vehicles on the road at that time in the morning. Carter turned left at a roundabout and joined the early morning traffic heading out of town.
“Please, please, please,” murmured William, as Carter continued on toward the motorway.
At the next roundabout, William’s prayers were answered when he took the third exit and joined a stream of motorists heading toward London.
Carter remained in the inside lane, and never once exceeded the speed limit. This was clearly a man who didn’t want to be stopped by the police, which made William wonder what could possibly be in the holdall. As each mile passed, William became more confident that Carter was heading for the capital, possibly to meet up with the man Lamont was so keen to identify. But then, without indicating, Carter swung off the motorway and began to follow the signs for Heathrow, where he pulled into the short-term car park.
William parked on the floor above, before following Carter into terminal two, where he watched him head for the BA desk. William hung back as Carter checked in and was handed a boarding pass. He took the escalator to the first floor, leather holdall firmly in hand, and headed for Departures.
William moved swiftly over to the check-in counter and showed the woman on the desk his warrant card. “I need to know which flight a Mr. Kevin Carter is booked on.”
She hesitated for a moment before pressing a button under her desk. Moments later a tall, heavily built man appeared by her side. William produced his warrant card again and repeated his request.
“Who’s your boss?” was all the man said.
“DCI Lamont, head of the Art and Antiques unit at Scotland Yard.”
The security man picked up a phone. “What number?”
“01 735 2916.” William prayed Lamont was at his desk.
“Lamont,” said a voice.
The security man handed the phone to William, who explained to Lamont why he was at Heathrow.
“Put him back on, laddie,” said Lamont. William passed the phone back and listened to a one-sided conversation which ended with the words, “Yes, sir.”
The security man nodded, and the booking clerk checked her computer before saying, “Mr. Carter is on flight 028 to Rome. The gate closes in twenty minutes.”
“I’ve got two problems,” said William, turning back to the security man. “I need a seat on that flight, and I don’t have a passport.”
“Make out a boarding pass for Detective Constable Warwick,” said the security man, “and if possible, seat him a couple of rows behind Carter.”
“I can do three rows behind him,” she said, tapping away on her computer.
“Couldn’t be better,” said William.
She printed out the boarding pass and gave it to him.
“My name’s Jim Travers,” said William’s new minder. “Follow me. We’ve no time to waste.”
William was taken backstage, and accompanied Jim down a gloomy gray brick corridor, where there were no passengers, just airport staff. After a long swift walk, Jim pushed open a door that led William out of the terminal, to where an unmarked car was parked by the runway. Jim jumped in and drove him to the side of a waiting aircraft.
“Good luck,” he said, before William ran up the steps and onto an empty plane.
He took his seat near the back and didn’t have to wait long before the first passengers appeared. Carter was among the last. Still clutching on to his holdall, he took a window seat three rows in front of William.
After the plane had taken off, William had his first proper meal for the past couple of days, before taking the opportunity to lean back and close his eyes. After all, Carter wouldn’t be getting off before they landed in Rome.
The plane touched down at Da Vinci two hours later and taxied to the gate. There were only a couple of passengers between William and Carter when they entered the terminal and headed for passport control. Help, thought William, when he remembered that he didn’t have a passport. But he had only walked a few more yards when a smartly dressed young woman appeared by his side and linked her arm in his.
“Just stay with me, Detective Constable Warwick.”
“But I could lose the man I’m following.”
“Two of our officers are already tailing Carter. You’ll catch up with him on the other side.”
They headed toward a gate marked CREW, and were clearly expected, as they passed through passport control without even breaking stride. William felt like royalty as he was whisked out of the terminal, where a car was waiting for him, back door open.
He thanked the young woman before climbing in to find a man in a smart beige uniform seated in the back, who was obviously expecting him.