Lies Sleeping (Peter Grant, #7)(88)

‘Worse,’ said Nightingale. ‘He builds his plans with multiple redundancy. Had you not escaped then we would be deprived of a major asset. But since you did, we’re forced to expend matériel chasing leads.’

‘That’s to our advantage though, isn’t it?’ I said. ‘We have personnel and an overtime budget.’

‘Not an unlimited budget. Not for this level of operational tempo.’

I pointed out that Chorley must have a deadline too.

‘Why else grab me?’ I said. ‘And Lesley practically said as much.’

‘Yes,’ said Nightingale. ‘I’m not sure that’s much comfort.’

What was comforting was that one of the CCTV teams had managed to identify the Sprinter van that been used to deliver me to the factory. It was clearly visible turning off the lane at one in the morning and then departing two hours later, sporting different plates. Between then and my escape a total of twenty-eight separate vehicles had come and gone the same way. All but a couple had been traced, their owners interviewed and their current whereabouts ascertained.

The lack of bell disturbed me.

‘The bell was in there,’ I said.

‘Well, it didn’t go out the front,’ said Guleed. ‘And we haven’t found a back door yet.’

‘Let’s see what the Fox Whisperer finds out,’ I said.

One of the police staff dropped off Abigail before lunch and we pushed our way through some scrub down to where a fence marked the border of the railway tracks. We stopped there and Abigail extracted a Tupperware box from her shoulder bag and opened it. Inside were genuine Molly-baked cheese puffs.

I asked whether Molly was cooking again, but Abigail said no.

‘I keep a stash of these in the fridge just in case,’ she said.

‘So what now?’ I asked, making a sly grab which got my hand slapped.

‘On past form, anything from thirty seconds to five minutes,’ she said, ‘With an average arrival time of around two minutes.’

It was less than sixty seconds later that a large dog fox strolled up with the ‘Yeah, what?’ of a creature who’s figured out that they don’t allow hunting dog packs in built-up areas.

‘Wotcha, Abi.’ Its voice was breathy but surprisingly deep and cockney.

‘All right,’ said Abigail.

‘Is that a cheese puff?’ said the fox, sidling closer.

‘What do you think?’ asked Abigail.

‘Is there any chance of that becoming my cheese puff?’ he said.

‘Don’t know,’ said Abigail. ‘It depends on whether you’re going to be helpful or not, don’t it?’

The fox bobbed his head.

‘How can I be of service?’ he said.

‘Who’s been watching this place?’ she asked, and I thought – what the fuck?

‘Don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said the fox. ‘Honest.’

Abigail folded her arms and tapped her feet.

‘All right,’ said the fox. ‘Here’s my problem, right. If I bring you the one who might have been keeping an eye on this place, then they’re going to be rewarded with a cheese puff – yes?’

‘Possibly,’ said Abigail.

‘But what of I, the one which facilitated this engagement without whom no information would be exchanged,’ said the fox. ‘What reward for myself?’

‘I might give you a cheese puff,’ said Abigail.

Reaching into the box, she produced a cheese puff and handed it to me. The fox watched me intently as I took a bite – it was delicious.

‘Cheddar with a hint of thyme,’ I said. ‘Also, crumbled bacon.’

The fox gave a low whine.

‘Might give me one?’ he said. ‘How might “might” become “will”?’

Abigail took out another cheese puff, took a bite and waved the remainder around for emphasis.

‘That depends upon how long me and this one have to spend waiting for you,’ she said.

‘I see,’ said the fox, turning and vanishing back into the undergrowth.

I eyed up the remaining cheese puffs.

‘Do you think he’s going to be long?’ I asked.

‘Nah,’ said Abigail. ‘The watcher will be his mate – he knew what we were after, but by talking to us first they get two bites of the cherry, don’t they?’

‘That’s sly,’ I said.

‘That’s foxes, isn’t it?’

The fox came back with his mate, a vixen with a particularly long face. They sat on their haunches side by side.

‘Hello,’ said the vixen. ‘Let’s have it then.’ Her voice had a higher register but seemed just as cockney.

‘Have what?’ asked Abigail.

‘The cheese puff,’ said the vixen.

‘Let’s get your report first,’ said Abigail. ‘Then we’ll talk baked goods.’

‘This is a bit of an impasse, isn’t it? Because I’m not about to cough up what I’ve got without something upfront,’ said the vixen.

Abigail removed another cheese puff, broke it in half and threw one bit to each fox. They caught them neatly out of the air and ate them in a single bite. Long tongues emerged to lick the crumbs off their muzzles.