‘Yes, sir.’
Angel suddenly noted a change in the direction of the flashing light. ‘They’ve turned right, off Sheffield Road at the Redhouse. They’ve turned into a little back road I’m not familiar with.…’ He looked at Crisp.
‘I don’t know it, sir.’
Angel pursed his lips. He was a worried man.
‘Get me Flora Carter on your mobile, Trevor,’ Angel said.
Two minutes later, he was speaking to her.
‘Flora, drop whatever you’re doing. I’ve got the car of the two armed men who are in possession of the Rosary on a location monitor.’
‘I heard your message via the Operations Room a few minutes ago, sir.’
‘Grab Ted Scrivens as your driver. Start out in a southerly direction. When you get two miles out of Bromersley ring me.’
‘On my way, sir.’
Angel closed the phone and returned it to Crisp. He looked up from the monitor and said, ‘The car’s stopped, sir.’
Angel gazed at the screen. He squeezed his lower lip between his teeth and held it there. Eventually he said, ‘Where is that place, Trevor? There’s an inch-to-a-mile map in that glove compartment.’
Crisp opened up the map. ‘I’ll mark that point, sir.’
Angel didn’t take his eyes off the monitor. After another minute, he quickly ran his hand through his hair and bawled, ‘They’re still there! What are they doing? Whatever they’re up to, I only hope they haven’t parted with that Rosary.’
‘Looks like a cluster of trees. A sort of mini forest. Look, they’re off again, sir. One of them might have needed to spend a penny.’
Angel nodded. He looked at his watch. ‘They were at a standstill there for two and a half minutes,’ he said. ‘That’s long enough to have made an exchange.’ He looked out of the windscreen towards the exit road then banged his hands hard on the steering wheel. ‘It’s time the garage brought that car. We can’t sit here all day.’
A few minutes later, a replacement police car was delivered to the gym car-park. It was an unmarked Ford Mondeo, and Angel and Crisp quickly made the transfer.
‘You drive,’ Angel said. ‘I’ll keep my eye on the monitor. Make for Barnsley then Ecclesfield, that would be the most direct route to where they are now.’
Crisp took the wheel and pointed the car towards the car-park exit.
After a few moments, Angel frowned and said, ‘They’ve taken another right. They are travelling north now, towards Tunistone.’
‘They’re making sure that nobody’s following them,’ Crisp said as he applied the Mondeo’s brakes at the car-park exit. He turned left on Barnsley Road.
‘Never mind Eccclesfield, Trevor. Continue to Barnsley, but go through the centre, along Dodworth Road and out in the general direction of the A628 towards Manchester. That should put us in a good position depending on where they are headed.’
Angel’s mobile rang.
It was Flora Carter. ‘I have Ted Scrivens with me, sir,’ she said, ‘and we’re two miles out of Bromersley travelling south.’
‘Right,’ Angel said. ‘Now, the Mercedes stopped at a place, 1.1 mile east of the Redhouse. I want you to check it out. You’ll have to inspect both sides of the road. I need to know why they stopped. See what there is and let me know. It’s possible that they met the Chameleon there by arrangement and made the exchange. See if you can see anything, anything at all. And let me know ASAP. All right?’
‘Right, sir,’ Flora Carter said.
‘One more thing,’ Angel said.
‘Yes, sir?’
Slowly and deliberately, he said, ‘I want you to be careful, Flora. Very careful. We don’t know the identity of the Chameleon. It could be anybody, male or female. It could be somebody we know well. So don’t venture into situations on your own. Stick close to Ted Scrivens and tell him to stick close to you. All right?’
She hesitated, swallowed and said, ‘Right, sir.’
Angel pocketed the mobile and pursed his lips. He was glad Scrivens was accompanying her. He was intelligent. He was also tall and muscular, and would be useful in case of trouble. However, he would need to be especially slick to protect himself against a stiletto … well, everybody would. A stiletto was a particularly evil weapon that could be skilfully used to kill by a man or a woman. The Chameleon didn’t need strength to kill, simply a little knowledge of anatomy.
Angel returned to watching the tracer screen.
During the next 30 minutes, the Mercedes made a circuitous route in a north-westerly direction to the small farming town of Tunistone, 10 miles west of Bromersley, several hundred feet higher up the Pennines.
The Mondeo was by now only 3 miles behind the Mercedes so Angel knew he could be on to them very quickly if necessary.
The flashing light showed that the car was making its way at a measured pace to the far western perimeter of the town to an estate of council flats. It indicated that the car made a right turn into the estate along a road shown as Marion Road and then first right again into a cul-de-sac named Little John Road. It travelled up that road a little way then stopped.
Angel watched the flashing light carefully. ‘I think they might have reached their destination,’ he said.
He checked the time then watched the monitor closely for exactly two minutes, then said, ‘Yes. It looks like it. They’ve certainly given us a run around.’
‘How near do you want me to take us, sir?’
‘Well, we don’t want them to spot us, but we do need to pinpoint exactly where they are.’
Angel directed Crisp through Tunistone to the estate.
It comprised a large number of flats built in blocks of four, two above two, with outside separate stone steps leading to the ‘front’ doors of the upstairs flats. There were very few people in the streets around. Many people were at work or school. The dull cold weather was keeping any other residents inside in the warm.
‘This is Marion Road, Ted,’ Angel said. ‘It cuts straight through the estate. Now drive along here fairly quickly, just as if we are just passing through and we know exactly where we are going. The Merc actually took the first on the right, which is Little John Road and stopped only a little way up. So have a peek up there.’
‘Right, sir,’ Crisp said. ‘Here we go.’
Crisp took the corner and turned into Marion Road.
As the Mondeo travelled across the end of Little John Road, the two men glanced up it.
‘There’re two of them, there, sir,’ Crisp said.
They saw the immaculate and tiny Memoré on the nearest side of the car and Marcia Graham’s unmistakable head of straw-coloured blonde hair and shapely figure on the far side. The two were energetically pulling a reluctant grey canvas tarpaulin over the roof of the Mercedes which was parked on the flagstone surround close to one of the staircases of an upstairs flat.
Angel saw them out of his eye corner. His jaw muscles tightened. ‘Right, lad,’ he said. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
Crisp put his foot gently down on the accelerator and they were soon out of sight.
‘Flat 2, Little John Road,’ Angel said. ‘That’s the address then.’
Crisp drove the Mondeo further along Marion Road into the heart of the estate, made a couple of turns then pulled up at the side of the road.
Meanwhile Angel was speaking to an old friend Detective Inspector Waldo White on his mobile. He was the officer in charge of the FSU, the Firearms Special Unit, in Wakefield. It was a special group of policemen and women on call 24/7 specially authorized to carry firearms and trained to deal with all circumstances where an armed person or persons were behaving in a dangerous manner.
Angel told White the situation in brief and they arranged to rendezvous at the top of Marion Road, Tunistone, in about forty minutes. Angel was about to tap in another number when the mobile vibrated and rang out as he was holding it.
It was Flora Carter. His eyebrows shot up. He quickly pressed the button.
; ‘Yes, Flora,’ he said. ‘What you got?’
‘It’s not good, sir. Found the body of a man hidden behind a stone wall … just off the road. It’s Charles Domino.’
‘Charles Domino?’ he said. His face tightened, he shook his head, then blew out a lungful of air. ‘Stabbed in the heart, I expect?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Flora said.
‘Any signs of a struggle?’ he said, rubbing his chin.
‘No, sir,’ she said.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Positive. Ted and I have had a good look round and we can find absolutely nothing. There’s really nothing here. Only trees and bushes and grass.’
‘Any tyre marks or footprints?’
‘No, sir. We have not seen a single footprint, a weapon nor anything else that could be a clue.’
‘What about the ground? Now, this is important, Flora,’ he said heavily. ‘This is really important. Is the ground round there hard or soft?’
‘Pretty soft, sir. There were heavy showers here throughout last night.’
‘Any puddles?’
‘No. No puddles.’
Angel breathed out noisily. He lowered his eyebrows as he mulled over the information. He reached a conclusion.
Flora said, ‘Are you still there, sir?’
‘Well, I want you here in Tunistone urgently, Flora, so get yourself to the top of Marion Road ASAP. It’s just off the ring road to Manchester. Look out for my silver Ford Mondeo. Now let me speak to Ted Scrivens.’
The young man came on the line. ‘Scrivens, sir.’
‘Now listen up, lad. I’ve got my hands full here, so I want you to ring Don Taylor in the SOCO office, and Dr Mac at the mortuary, report that you have a body. Tell them that you’ve spoken to me and that I’ve instructed you to ask them to do the necessary. Then ring the super and tell him about the body, and what’s happening. Then I want you to stay there and be “continuation officer” because I need Sergeant Carter with me here. All right?’
Scriven’s voice brightened. He liked the unexpected responsibility. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said.
Angel ended the call, and tapped in a number.
Crisp said, ‘Charles Domino dead, sir?’
‘Yes, lad,’ he said rubbing his chin.
‘That would be the Chameleon again?’
‘I am very much afraid that it was, lad. Aye.’
‘Do you think, sir, that they met him there by arrangement, and that he stabbed Domino as he was handing the Rosary over?’
‘No. It’s becoming a bit clearer now that he has gone.’
Crisp frowned. It wasn’t clear to him.
A familiar voice answered Angel’s mobile. ‘Control Room, Bromersley Police. Duty Sergeant Clifton.’
‘DI Angel, Bernie. I’m on a surveillance job out at the top of Marion Road, Tunistone. A man and a woman. The man is known to be armed with a handgun. Now, I need a damned good negotiator to talk them out. Who have we got?’
‘There’s nobody at present on attachment, sir. Barney the Brains left, if you remember. There’ll be somebody on the West Yorkshire force, I expect. I’ll contact them if you like and let you know.’
Angel wrinkled his nose and groaned. ‘There’s isn’t time for that rigmarole. If these villains start on the move, we’ll not be able to stop them, and we might lose them. There’s only Trevor Crisp and me here at the moment.’
Sergeant Clifton hesitated, then said, ‘Well, what do you want me to do, sir?’
‘Leave it with me, Bernie. There’s something else. I very urgently need a pair of walkie-talkies complete with fresh batteries from the stores. Send them by a plain-clothes man, in an unmarked car with a squib up his backside, will you?’
Clifton smiled, ‘Right, sir.’
Angel closed the phone.
Crisp said, ‘Who is going to be the negotiator, sir?’
‘Dunno,’ he growled. ‘Huh. Would you believe it? We still haven’t got an experienced negotiator at Bromersley.’
‘But you’ve done the course, sir, haven’t you?’
‘Yeah’ he said. The corners of his mouth turned downwards. He shook his head. ‘Trouble is, it assumed all villains are out of the same pot and they aren’t.’
He dropped the mobile in his pocket and turned back to Crisp. ‘It’s time we had a look at ‘em. See if they’re settled in. Get out and amble down the road. See if everything is quiet, and keep going. I’ll drive round to the other side of the estate and pick you up.’
Crisp got out of the Mondeo, leaned over to the back seat for his overcoat, put it on and set off.
Angel looked around. It was cold and cloudy, and the streets were very quiet. The occasional car or delivery van passed by but that was all. They had seen an elderly man walking a dog and a woman lugging her shopping home.
Angel got into the driving seat, set off up the hill, drove round the outside of the estate and two minutes later, turned the Mondeo into the bottom of Marion Road, where he saw Crisp in a black overcoat walking on the pavement towards him. When he reached him he stopped.
Crisp opened the car door. ‘They’re on the move, sir,’ he said as he got in.
‘What?’ Angel roared. That was the last thing he wanted to hear. His pulse began to thump. He could feel the beat on his eardrums. He shoved the gear stick into first and let in the clutch.
SIXTEEN
‘They’re up to something, sir,’ Crisp said. ‘I caught sight of Joseph Memoré humping a big suitcase and a carrier bag down the outside steps. The tarpaulin had been partly removed from the car so that they could load the boot and the back of the car. It still covers the number plate and the bonnet.’
Angel pulled a face; it was a very worrying time. He drove the BMW resolutely up Marion Road. He was deep in thought. He believed Memoré had a small handgun, probably a Beretta, which was just as dangerous at close quarters as the Glock G17, the standard police-issue weapon, was at 30 yards. He also knew that if he allowed Memoré and Marcia Moore to escape from that flat, he might never be able to catch them again, and the beautiful historic Mary 1 gold, diamond and ruby Rosary might disappear forever. He checked his watch. It was almost noon. He reckoned that Waldo White and his unit from the FSU would still be about 15 minutes away, so he only had to stall the villains that length of time. Flora Carter would take longer, as would the man bringing the walkie-talkies from Bromersley.
The situation required bold action.
He drove the Mondeo up Marion Road, turned it through 180 degrees at the top and then drove it down again. He decided to risk taking a longer, more thorough look at the exterior of the villains’ flat. He drove down Marion Road and turned into Little John Road. He saw that the Mercedes had been partially uncovered, as Crisp had said, but there were no signs of Memoré or Moore. He drove on for a further 25 yards only, then stopped at the side of the road and pulled on the handbrake.
‘What are you going to do, sir?’ Crisp said.
‘We’ve got to keep them there until the FSU arrive, which means that we have to set up communications with them now.’
Crisp shook his head. ‘The walkie-talkies won’t be here for another half hour or so.’
‘They could be even longer,’ Angel said and rubbed the lobe of his ear between finger and thumb. Then he suddenly said. ‘Give me your mobile.’
Crisp stared at him. ‘What for?’
‘Give me your mobile, lad. Come on. Don’t waste time.’
‘But, sir,’ he said.
Angel glared at him and nodded his head meaningfully.
Crisp pulled a face, dug into his pocket and slowly passed it over.
Angel snatched it from him, held it up and said, ‘Now listen, lad, I’m going to get out and look in the boot to find something to wrap round this phone. Then I’m going to deliver it to Flat 2, Little John Road, and I want you to—’
Crisp’s jaw dropped. His eyes opened wide. ‘You can’t do that, sir. He’s armed. He knows who you are. If you go anywhere near ther
e, he’ll kill you.’
Angel shook his head impatiently. ‘No he won’t. He won’t get chance. Now, listen. I want you to wait one minute exactly and then turn round and drive to the end of the street and pick me up, all right?’
Crisp shook his head as Angel spoke. He didn’t want to do it.
Angel got out of the Mondeo, went round to the boot, from a packet took out a couple of self-seal polythene bags with the word EVIDENCE printed in big letters in red across them, wrapped them round the mobile, pushed the bundle inside another bag, and sealed it. Then he walked quickly back along Marion Road, turned left up Little John Road, across the asphalt area, ran up the steps of Flat 2 to the front door. He pushed the package through the letterbox, turned quickly round, and returned to the corner of the street where he had arranged to be collected and was relieved to see Crisp arrive in the Mondeo right on time.
Angel got in the car.
Crisp let in the clutch and drove away. ‘Everything all right, sir?’
‘You were a bit late.’
‘You said a minute, sir.’
‘Take us up to the top of the street and park up there somewhere,’ he said as he took out his own mobile and tapped in the number of the other one.
He rubbed his chin as he heard it ring out. He must talk to Memoré and try to keep him and Marcia Moore contained otherwise the situation could end in a shoot-out and a possible bloodbath. There were the neighbours in the same block, people in the other flats close at hand and passers by who could be caught in crossfire, and they had to be taken into consideration and protected.
Suddenly the distinctive voice of Joseph Memoré said, ‘’Allo.’ Allo. What is this? Who is there?’
Angel put on his most robust voice. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Memoré. This is Detective Inspector Angel, Bromersley Police.’
Angel heard him gasp.
There was a pause and then Memoré said, ‘Oh. What’s dis? What’s dis, “Good afternoon”? What you vant, Angel?’
‘I want to tell you that you are surrounded by armed police officers and I want you to throw your weapons out of the window.’
‘Nossing doing. I don’t believe you. If you want me, come in and get me.’
The Diamond Rosary Murders Page 17
