"Maybe he already has," Phil said.
"No, no. Eight million, or whatever he thinks he's got his hands on, isn't enough. Remember, a man on the run needs a hell of a wedge to keep him safe. It's payout time every bloody minute; to cover his tracks will cost. So what did he come here for?"
Langton turned to Anna and asked her to run by him the entire scenario that involved Julius D'Anton.
Anna opened her notebook. She detailed the sighting of Julius D'Anton driving the Mitsubishi, trying to collect the antique table with a wad of cash; his broken-down van, traced to the garage in Shipston on Stour; the discovery of his body, floating in the Thames; the postmortem, detailing that death was due to an overdose of Fentanyl. "As with Donny Petrozzo."
Langton stopped her. "Forget Donny Petrozzo; just focus on D'Anton."
"Well, he had been at Balliol at the same time as Fitzpatrick, so we thought that, when he crashed his van, he might have walked up to the farmhouse, seen Fitzpatrick there, and recognized him; that's how he got access to the Mitsubishi, and enough money to go back to buy the table."
"Go on." Langton wafted his hand.
"His widow at first said that he hadn't returned that weekend, but she later retracted her statement, saying she had not actually been at
home, so it was possible that he had returned. She said that she was having an affair with the builder, and was away the entire weekend with him." "What about the property?""Well, the D'Antons had only just bought it and were renovating it. They made their living doing up property to sell, though D'Anton continued to deal in antiques. His widow also admitted that he was still using drugs; he spent time in rehab but was, invariably, clean for only a short while before he started using again.""Where was his body found?" Langton asked, rubbing his head."Just by the weir in Teddington. It was estimated that he had been in the water for at least two or three days, but death was down to an overdose of Fentanyl, as with Donny Petrozzo.""Just keep off fucking Petrozzo, I said, and stick to D'Anton!""That's about it."Langton pursed his lips, and said that it was all supposition."We do know the Mitsubishi was at the farmhouse," Anna said quietly. "We have had soil and horse-manure samples tested."He sat in brooding silence; nobody liked to interrupt. After a few moments, he stood up and tapped D'Anton's picture. "He, I think, is the key. He and his wife buy houses, sell up, move on. Hard to find an address, right?"No one could fathom out where Langton was going with his queries; he seemed unsure himself. "There are no coincidences! All that 'he maybe recognized Fitzpatrick'—well, not one of us did, did we! So take that out of the equation. Look at his character: D'Anton, junkie, did time for drug dealing, wife stands by him, in and out of rehab—a real loser. There he is, with an eye for antiques, and a table that the dealer himself said he had wrongly underpriced—everyone with me so far?"Anna sat on the edge of her chair, tense, listening; finding her old admiration for him flooding back. You could almost see the wheels turning in his brain as he attempted to knit together a scenario that made sense. He gave long pauses, rubbing at his temple, and then he smiled. "So much for clapping my hands and catching at a fly," he said. Then he stood up and tapped D'Anton's photograph. "Okay, try this for size. Our junkie antique guy can't get the table because he's been turned down, but he learns that the table came from a cottage. Like a good cheap-creep dealer, he pays a visit. He discovers that the old lady has already sold up anything of value, so he asks about any other properties close by. Right so far, Travis?"
"Yes, we interviewed the old lady in question. She remembered directing D'Anton to Honey Farm."
"D'Anton drives his van into a ditch, and can't reverse out, so he walks to the farmhouse. He needs to get someone to haul him out." Langton turned over the sheets of paper the financial team had used. He drew the farmhouse and the narrow lane leading to it in childish and rather inept strokes. "According to our surveillance team, the couple stay very much at home. They don't use the front entrance, but the rear—correct, Travis?"
"Yes, the bell doesn't work."
Langton nodded. "Julius D'Anton—no money, pissed off; no deal with the table, pissed off—gets to the farmhouse. No answer. What if, parked in their yard, is the Mitsubishi? Not only parked but, maybe with the keys in the ignition?" He looked at everyone.
Anna coughed. If her theory was supposition, this was surely just as much so.
"D'Anton opens it, looks inside. What if there are drugs or a stash of money in the glove compartment? I'm not talking big money, maybe a couple of grand; could have been in a wallet, whatever. He needs something to go back and sort his van out. Nobody around, so he just gets in and drives off. D'Anton gets to the village; tries to buy the table, pays over money, but it won't fit in the back of the jeep. He drives on; even arranges for his van to be shifted by the locals. Guess what? Honour is serving in the shop! Honour, who fucking knows that jeep, but does not know D'Anton. I am assuming Fitzpatrick was the one who drove it to the farmhouse. Did she call, to ask Fitzpatrick if he had let this creep drive it?"
Langton patted his pockets, really needing a smoke, but then controlled himself; instead, he began to twist the pen round and round. He
asked Travis to give details of the vehicles known to have been used at the farm: there was only the old Range Rover. If the Range Rover had been used to follow the Mitsubishi on the motorway, it would have had a hard time keeping up. There was now a time gap, he believed, due to the fact that whoever was following D'Anton lost him. "Hard man to track down, if he moved addresses. This time gap is vital." On the board, he marked up:1. Donny Petrozzo knew D'Anton2. Donny Petrozzo was involved with Frank Brandon3. Frank Brandon had come into contact with Alexander Fitzpatrick, but knew him only as Anthony Collingwood; Frank had been offered a deal that it was hard to walk away from: a lot of money, enough to marry and buy a houseLangton drew links between each man, and circled D'Anton's name."We now have this junkie wheeling around in a stolen jeep. He's found a stash of money in the glove compartment—remember, this was the same jeep that Frank Brandon drove to the squat." He drew another link over to where he then wrote drug squat, underlined it, and tossed the marker pen aside. Langton then continued, covering the night Frank Brandon was shot dead, and the fact that whoever was with him was wounded but escaped and drove to Honey Farm."Now, what if—and it's a big if—what if Julius D'Anton did contact Petrozzo, because he had something big to sell?" Langton looked around the room. "The box of Fentanyl was still in the back of the Mitsubishi. I don't think he knew what the hell he'd got."There was a unanimous gasp; suddenly everything started to make sense."Julius D'Anton may not have been murdered; he could have tested the stuff out and killed himself.We all know it's fucking lethal. If he was dead as a dodo in the jeep, Donny could have tossed him into the river, driven the Mitsubishi back to the garage in Wimbledon—and bingo, walks straight into the hypodermic needle, courtesy of Fitzpatrick." It was not a curtain down, but it felt like it. Anna wanted to applaud him because, as theories went, it was a bloody good one.They were all given their day's investigation by the duty manager, working alongside Cunningham. She said to Anna, "You are with Langton; he wants to reinterview D'Anton's wife."She looked confused."Langton didn't quite finish his oration this morning. James thinks that the reason Fitzpatrick brazened it out here is because the drugs are still missing.""Shit!" Anna said. "So that's what he's after. Does he think they're at D'Anton's house?""Maybe. They haven't surfaced anywhere else. That's for you to find out."By the time Anna got into the patrol car alongside Langton, he was resting his head back on the headrest. "You didn't give us your punch line," she said, smiling."I need to stop off at a chemist; pick up my prescription," was all he said in reply. He closed his eyes, as if all his speech making had exhausted him.
CHAPTER 22
Anna was surprised at how much work had been completed on D'Anton's house since she had last been there. The roof was finished, and the tarpaulin removed, though there was still a lot of evidence that work was in progress: a stack of wood in the small
front garden, wheelbarrows, cement bags, and two big crates of tiles. The front door was open, with sheets of plastic leading along the hallway and into the kitchen. The noise of some kind of drill was deafening; there was no point in ringing the doorbell. "Mrs. D'Anton? Mrs. D'Anton!" Anna called out loudly.There was no reply, so they headed into the kitchen. Again, Anna was impressed at how much had been done: new kitchen cabinets, a new cooker, and the floor tiled in black and white. A fitted breakfast area replaced the old fireplace that had been there on her last visit. Anna passed Langton to look up the stairs, calling out again. Eventually, the sound of drilling stopped, and there was a heavy footfall on the bare wooden stairs."Is Mrs. D'Anton at home?" Anna inquired. It was the same builder she had seen on her last visit."Hang on," he said. She heard him crossing the landing above her on the wooden floorboards. "Sandra? Sandra!" he bellowed.Anna began a slow move upward, as there was no reply. He shouted for Sandra again and then looked down to Anna, who was by now midway up the stairs. "She's not up here—isn't she down there?""No.""Well, I don't know where she bloody is. Sandra?""When did you last see her?" Anna got closer. "She said she wouldn't be long. Are you from the council? We've not371 been working late since the last time we had a complaint, but as it's just the two of us, we need to work all the hours we can.""We're not from the council," said Langton, and showed his ID. "You had any other visitors this morning?""Bloody hell. You're not back again, are you?""I am Chief Superintendent James Langton and this is Detective Inspector Anna Travis.""Shit—now what is it about?""Can we come up and talk to you?""Sure—mind the stairs, they're a bit dodgy. I dunno what's going on. Sandra said she would just go with them."Langton had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Go with whom, where?" he asked quietly."The cops that were here earlier. They searched the entire bloody house. I dunno what they was looking for; Sandra was dealing with them."It was about ten minutes before Langton got the description of the three officers who had arrived at eight that morning: two heavily built, and one very tall and well spoken, who did all the talking. Sandra was told it was in connection with her husband's death. They had searched every room and then asked if there was anywhere else that her husband might have kept items; she had said that they had a storage bay for their own furniture and some antiques that Julius had been trying to off-load. The three men were polite and totally believable as they asked if Sandra could accompany them to the storage facility. When shown the photograph of Alexander Fitzpatrick, the builder identified him, without hesitation, as being the well-spoken officer.Langton got the address of the storage facility and walked out to their patrol car. He was silent as they headed toward New Maiden. Anna sat in the rear passenger seat; she hardly said a word, because she knew as well as Langton what they might find at the warehouse."Looking for the drugs," Langton suddenly said, hardly audible. He lapsed into a brooding silence as they headed from Chiswick down into Kew; then he told the driver to cut through Richmond Park, go across Kingston Hill, then straight down Queens Road, turning left past Kingston Hospital.Leaving the patrol car in the car park, they headed toward Brick House Storage Company. There was a security guard in a small hut beside the double doors into the storage facility. Langton showed his ID-he and Anna were led toward two huge doors, similar to a garage but three times the size."The one you want is over to the right; I'll take you through."Langton thanked him, but said they would find it. He asked if anyone had recently been to open the storage and was told that it was possible, as the man had only come on duty at eleven; there was another security guard who handled the late shift, from seven in the evening until midmorning.KT2 was, as he had indicated, along a lane of storage compartments; the last in the row. Langton had the key but, when he twisted the handle, the door was already open. "Doesn't bode well," he said softly.As the gate swung up, all they could see were sofas, chairs, and tables stacked on top of one another, with many boxes piled in a neat, orderly fashion. They were each labeled—kitchen equipment, crockery, etc.—and only the plastic strips strewn around showed they had recently been opened. There were also some antiques and other furniture piled high: lamps and coffee tables, kitchen stools and beds. They had to squeeze down between the piles of stored items to see more and more straw, and bubble wrap, tossed to one side. Some boxes were open, left on their side."She's not here," Langton said as he kicked aside the mass of old newspapers that must have wrapped china or glassware. He took out his mobile and called Sandra's house as Anna walked back to the entrance and made her way down the first aisle again. Branching off it, not seen at first, was another area, which looked different: there were visible spaces, as if something had been stored and removed. There were scrapings, where a crate could have been moved aside."She's not arrived home yet," he said, calling to Anna from the end of the aisle."Something was stored here and taken out," she said, indicating the spaces. She spotted a hair slide and turned, holding it up for Langton to see, but he was standing by a large cardboard crate. He squatted, resting back on his heels. Taking a pen from his pocket, he inched out a torn, folded piece of white paper from between the two crates.Anna continued searching but, finding nothing, she turned and edged around the other side. Her foot crunched on something and she quickly lifted it. It was a single earring; not a clip-on, but a beaded drop. Anna held the earring in the palm of her hand and moved farther around the crates; then she stopped. Wedged between the crates was a body. Sandra was literally rammed in between them, her body almost crushed."I've found her," she said.Langton appeared behind her, and said not to touch anything; then he turned away to make a call on his mobile. Anna joined him as he ordered an ambulance."She's dead," Anna said quietly."Get out to that security guy. We need to talk to the other man who was on duty before him."Anna left him making more calls to the station, asking for the necessary backup. By the time he joined her outside, she had already made contact with Harry Framer, the night security guard. Langton handed her the scrap of paper. It was a cargo invoice for supplies of medical drugs destined for delivery, but to where, she couldn't tell, as it had been torn off. There was a part stamp from Gatwick Airport customs, dated six months ago, but the signature of who had taken the order was missing."That's how he must have been shipping his supplies in; we can run check on it at the airport," Langton said, then turned to look back at the massive warehouse.Mrs. D'Anton had a broken neck, and substantial bruises to her face nd throat. Two of her nails were broken; it looked as if she had put up fight. By the time her body was being eased out and checked over, both Anna and Langton had talked to Harry Framer. He was badly shaken, seeing the uniformed officers cordoning off the entrance to the Warehouse. He said that around nine, just as he was about to get some breakfast, a Range Rover had pulled up. He described the two thickset men who approached him; they were accompanied by Mrs. D'Anton, who did not, as far as he could remember, appear nervous in any way, but chatted to him as he opened the main doors of the hangar. He couldn't recall if he had even heard the two men speak. The third man had remained inside the Range Rover until the doors were opened; when he got out, he went straight to the hangar. He was tall, well over six feet, and wore a long draped coat. When shown the photograph of Alexander Fitzpatrick, Framer said it was the same man."So take me through exactly what happened.""Well, they went inside. Mrs. D'Anton had her keys. Like I said, it was around breakfast time, so I went to the cafe up the road, got a coffee and a bacon sandwich, and came back. I said to the tall man that he couldn't stay parked up outside; he said that they were just leaving. The two guys came out; one was carrying a box, and stashed it in the back of the Range Rover. The tall man was already sitting inside.""So Mrs. D'Anton wasn't with them?""I didn't see her, but I reckoned maybe she'd left. I watched them drive out, then went into the security office and ate my breakfast." Framer was sweating with nerves and kept on repeating that he didn't see anything suspicious."This box, how big was it?"Framer said it was maybe two feet by two, miming the size with his hands; not big, and it didn't look too heavy. He didn't know if there were other
boxes already stashed in the Range Rover. Langton asked when he had last seen Julius D'Anton. Framer said he had never actually met him, just his wife. The other security guard, when asked the same question, said that, as far as he could recall, although D'Anton used to pay regular visits, he hadn't seen him for about five or six months.Langton gestured for Anna to follow as he headed back to their car. "You know what's not making sense? The way she's been beaten up: neck broken, face in bad shape. If you match this killing with the others we're lining up against Fitzpatrick, it's not got the same MO. If they were picking up just one box, that I suspect to be Fentanyl, then why not kill her in the same way as Rushton, as Donny Petrozzo? She put up a fight, but there were three of them; they could have held her down and injected her.""Well, you just said it—there were three of them. Maybe this kill was down to the two heavies."Langton nodded. He was now feeling very uneasy about the two missing children. Both men, he and Anna knew, were involved in taking the sisters to and from the nursery school."I think we should move in on Honour and Damien Nolan. If they don't know where the children are, then like you, I'm really concerned," Anna said.They drove in silence for a while, then Langton muttered, "He bloody did it again—showed up at D'Anton's, fake ID, and fucking searched the house before he came here. They said when he was in the incident room, the only person he seemed interested in was D'Anton; placed a chair directly in front of his data.""That's how he got the address," Anna said flatly."I keep thinking back on that last case we did together.The children, the baby we found buried in the pigsty.""So why are we waiting to pick them up?"Langton stared out of the side window as they headed down the motorway toward Gatwick; she could see his drawn face reflected in the wing mirror. "They can't make a move without us knowing. I'm not ready for them yet."Anna said nothing. Finding the body of Julius D'Anton's wife had really affected her. Langton had not had any interaction with her, so the missing shipment of "medical supplies" preoccupied him more than anything else.Gatwick customs were very edgy about their inquiry. They produced documents that were all, as far as they were concerned, totally legitimate. The shipment of Fentanyl had been sent via a well-known pharmaceutical company that had shipped many times before to the UK. The documents were checked over and stamped at the customs warehouse; they Were subsequently collected by an official, with counterdocumentation, to ensure delivery was made to the various hospitals across London.Langton retained his composure, requesting copies of every single paper concerning the shipment. He sat in the patrol car, flicking through them; then passed the papers to Anna. "I would put my life savings on these being very good forgeries; those clowns wouldn't know shit from a shovel." Anna read over the vast folder of shipment agreements and collections. To her, they did look authentic, even down to the cases being opened and double-checked. Even the collection papers were seemingly very orderly; yet, like Langton, she had to assume they were forged."He sends this stuff right out in the open and not one person questioned it. Oh—the collection was made by a white van with a medical supplier's logo! Big fucking deal; somebody did their bloody research." He shook his head. "That somebody had to be in the UK for a long time to get this organized. We'll have to check back to the U.S. side, but I doubt it'll be much help, as this end was so tight.""What do you think it's worth?" Anna asked.Langton shrugged. "Street value, I'd say we're looking at millions. Thing is"—he tapped the dashboard with his finger—-"he would have to have a big network of dealers over here prepared to buy it. I don't for a second think it was those no-hopers we've arrested from the Chalk Farm squat." He sighed, and then turned to face her, swiveling around in the front seat. "You know what I think?"Anna smiled, and shook her head. "There was a major cock-up somewhere?""You can say that again." He turned back to face the windscreen. "How many boxes do you reckon were stored at the warehouse?""I don't know. The security guy saw just the one being carried out, but there could have been more in the Range Rover."Langton made the same gesture with his hands as Framer the security guard had done. "Two foot by two foot; easily placed into the back of the Range Rover, right?""Yes, from what he said."Langton grunted, then went into one of his silences.Not until they were in front of the team, giving their update, did he add that they would have to work backward. "Fitzpatrick, we know, was short of cash. He put the pressure on Julia Brandon to get four million out from Rushton; he also killed him, because he wanted access to every cent she had squirreled away. We know he has now started to funnel it into various accounts. I surmise that he is not in this deal alone. We've gone with the assumption that these two heavies were used by Julia Brandon to act as bodyguards." He paused. "What if they were something more? What if this shipment was also theirs? Fitzpatrick had done some kind of deal to ship it in, and they would control the dealers. As far as I can tell, Fitzpatrick has been out of the game too long to have these contacts in the UK; it could be he was paid to organize the paperwork, for a cut of the profits."Everyone was attentive, as Langton appeared to be thinking out loud; he clicked his fingers, as if he couldn't quite get to the conclusion of his theory. He paced up and down along the incident-room board, and then stopped. He jabbed his finger at Julius D'Anton's photograph.Gordon came forward. Via CCTV footage they had traced the white van from Gatwick. It was hired from a "Rent a Van" company a week prior to the collection. The medical logo could easily have been made up and stuck over the sides. Gordon said the hire of the van was done via the Internet; the company was paid in cash, by a Mr. Rodney Fuller, on collection. He had the van for three days before it was returned to their yard, the keys left in their overnight letter box. Langton doubted they would discover any new evidence, as the van had been hired out twelve times since. However, Fuller was described as being very tall, and well spoken ... Gordon was sent to the hire company to see if they had any more information.Anna had the unpleasant job of returning to Sandra D'Anton's house with Phil to give the builder the bad news. They would also ask for more details about the men who came and searched, and ask whether Sandra had said anything else that would help their inquiry. Meanwhile the team, along with Langton, had begun the marathon task of working backward through the entire data collected for the case. Still Langton held off from picking up Honour and Damien Nolan. The surveillance team were still present and had reported noth-tng unusual or suspicious. By the time Anna returned, there was hardly a desk or office not brimming with statements and files. Langton was in her small office files piled either side of him."We didn't get anything from D Anton's house; her boyfriend was in a state of shock, so it was impossible to question him for a while. Outcome was, Sandra had said nothing that he could recall that made him concerned. She said the men were searching for a painting on which her husband had put a down payment, which was why she agreed to take them to the warehouse. It appeared that D'Anton had a habit of putting down payments on antiques, and not paying off the debt, but reselling the items."Langton looked glum as he pressed a pencil into Anna's desk, making small dents with the point. "I don't know which way to move," he said.Anna still could not understand why Langton hadn't brought the Nolans in. "Any sighting of the children?""Nope, nor our two goons. They could be anywhere, right?""With two children plus an au pair, somebody has got to have seen them.""Or know where they are," he said flatly. He swiveled in her chair, then picked up the last file he was studying. He sighed and then began to jab with the pencil again.Phil knocked on the door. "Boss, I've got something that's not quite kosher; it's connected to the Mitsubishi.""What?""Well, we know it was reported stolen, before it was taken to Stanley Leymore's. Next we know that Frank Brandon was driving it with, as . far as we know, Alexander Fitzpatrick on board. Then we get it sighted in Oxfordshire, this time with Julius D'Anton driving it ..."Langton sprang to his feet. "No, no! Julius D'Anton was driving it before Frank visited the drug squat—then we discovered the body of Donny Petrozzo in the back—right, Anna?""Yes.""Shit!" Both Phil and Anna looked to Langton, who was bending forward, rubbing his knee; jumping up out of the chair had made itthrob with pain. He hobbled
to the door and walked out. "I never got to gi him the nitty-gritty," Phil complained."Which is what?" Anna demanded."There's no trace of the guy who reported it missing. We have an address, right, but we're getting a dead phone signal. We've contacted the local police to see if they can help us."Anna hurried into the incident room. The Mitsubishi had been reported stolen by a man called Adrian Summers; his address was one of the elegant houses in Hove with direct views of the pebbled beach. The house had been rented on a short lease and, as far as the locals could ascertain, the renter had not been in residence for months.Adrian Summers, aged twenty-two, worked as an odd-job man for holiday rentals. The Mitsubishi was registered in his name, and he had reported it stolen. It had been parked on the forecourt of the property. It didn't help that there had been a spate of car thefts over the past year; although the Mitsubishi had been reported stolen, the police had had no success in tracking it down.Langton fired off orders for a team to get over to the house. He wanted it dusted from top to bottom for prints, and for them to remove anything that gave them a clue as to who had rented it. The owners were contacted in the Bahamas; they gave an address and name of the management company.The rental contract didn't help: it had been taken out in Adrian Summers's name, and the rent paid in cash for six months; they had also been left a substantial deposit, which remained unclaimed.While the team set about tracing Summers and visiting the property, Langton sat in front of the board. Dates, dates—how many times had he asked for the chronological order of events from Travis? It all hinged °n this bloody jeep; was it stolen to order by Stanley Leymore? Did he have a string of kids stealing for him, driving the vehicles to his garage and respraying, repairing, replacing the plates? It was doubtful he would he stealing cars for himself; they knew he had sold Donny Petrozzo his Mercedes, so the cars would have been upmarket vehicles that he knew he could move. Brighton police confirmed a spate of upmarket vehicle thefts a while back, but nothing recently.Somehow the Mitsubishi was moved from Brighton to Leymore's garage. Langton began a list of names: he marked only those who had a direct link to the jeep. First up was this boy Adrian Summers, who had bought the jeep, new, from a Brighton dealer; paid cash. It was next reported stolen, and surfaced:1. At the drug squat with Alexander Fitzpatrick aboard, plus Frank Brandon2. At the farmhouse, driven by Julius D Anton 3. With Donny Petrozzo s body in the back, in the garage at WimbledonLangton began shifting the dates around. At the same time, he had the team double-checking the times of death for Petrozzo and for D Anton. Due to the latter being some time in the water, they were not able to give the exact date. Donny Petrozzo's body was also very well wrapped and preserved. The time frame in which they both had died was therefore, loosely, a three-week period.Langton then drew an arrow to link each man. Donny Petrozzo knew Frank Brandon; he also knew Stanley Leymore, the car dealer. Did Frank arrange with him to take the Mitsubishi? They had no record of exactly how long he had been driving it; the insurance certificates they had taken from Julia Brandons, along with other papers, were for her car and his only. Lastly, he underlined the now-infamous name: Alexander Fitzpatrick. Just as he had half completed his arrow making, there was contact from Brighton.It appeared someone had made a fast getaway. Food was still in the fridge, beds were unmade, and, though they were removing trash from the wastebaskets, the main garbage had last been collected weeks ago. When shown the picture of Alexander Fitzpatrick, neighbors either side of the property were certain that he had been in residence. The sheets were bundled up to be tested for DNA at the lab, but it looked as if whoever left in a hurry also did a cleanup job: rubber gloves were found along with disinfectant and window-cleaning sprays.There was still no sighting of Adrian Summers, but the neighborshad said he was a familiar sight around all their houses; he did part-time gardening, window cleaning, and car washing. He appeared to be a pleasant young man, who was studying part-time at the local college for a master's degree in graphic art. They would have to check out if Adrian Summers had made up the insignia for the hired white van.His parents had been contacted; they lived locally in Hove, but they had not seen him for seven or eight months. They were not too concerned, as it was usual for their son to go off without contacting them, but they changed their minds when told he had not been at college for the same period of time.They now had photographs of the young man. Sussex police had agreed to begin trying to locate him. Langton glanced uneasily at the fair-haired boy as he pinned his picture up along with everyone else's.Langton had been moving arrows and dates around the board, as if he was playing chess. His theory that there were no coincidences was being proved with a vengeance; the more he had tried to calculate the time frames, the more bizarre were the coincidences that must have occurred."As you know, from early on I have been requesting some kind of time frame; we are still surmising that this or that happened, so I am coming up with something else. Let's go back to the report of the missing Mitsubishi."In his opinion, for Alexander Fitzpatrick—even via Adrian Summers—to report a vehicle stolen would be a huge risk. He was still trying to fathom out the pickup of the drug haul from Gatwick. Going by the dates on the customs certificates, this occurred before the theft of the jeep. But they still had no idea where the drugs were taken afterward."Now," Langton continued, "it is my belief that, when the jeep was stolen, on board was maybe one box of the drugs. Stanley Leymore now has this box of drugs; he's unsure what they are. As soon as Fitzpatrick sees Frank Brandon with his fucking jeep, he has to want to know where he got it from. So, that leads him back to Leymore. What if—and I am grasping at straws here—but what if Leymore contacted DonnyPetrozzo, a known smalltime drug dealer? He takes the drugs, and tries to do a deal with our two punks at the Chalk Farm squat, but being cautious only gives maybe a few vials of it."The team all had quizzical expressions, trying to follow Langton as he walked up and down in front of the board."Frank drives Fitzpatrick to the drug squat," Langton went on, "and there all hell breaks loose, as Frank is recognized by the two dealers, and the shoot-out goes down. The dealers had paid Leymore for the drugs; we know they have admitted killing him, and there is a time gap between them making a run for it from the squat and killing Leymore. In that time gap, I think DAnton got hold of the drugs— not the mother lode, but a box containing some of the Fentanyl. Is everyone with me?"There was a low murmur, and a few jokes that they were trying to keep up. Anna sat quietly, watching Langton at work. He was, as he always had been, an extraordinary man; his mind ticking over so fast, he spoke in short sharp sentences as he tried to work out his theory. She knew he was treading water, though, as so much depended on the very thing he always detested: coincidences."Now!" Langton paused. He explained that Fitzpatrick had possibly been injured in the shooting. He couldn't return to his rented house in Brighton and, with Frank Brandon's murder, he couldn't stay at Julia's, so he needed a place to hide out.Langton printed in large letters: FARMHOUSE. He then stepped back and gave a soft laugh. "Okay, I am hoofing it now but, around the same time—remember, this is all taking place within twenty-four hours of the murder of Frank Brandon ..." Langton brought up the note found in the glove compartment of the Mitsubishi, with directions to the farmhouse. Did Fitzpatrick call and ask how to get there? Did he drive to the farmhouse? And did he stash the box of drugs in the Mitsubishi? He jotted down the dates of the antiques fair; again, this crossed their time frame. "Julius D'Anton: junkie, loser, desperate for money, rams his own rundown van into the ditch, no more than a mile from the farmhouse. Coincidentally," he said, looking to Anna with a grin, "JuliusD'Anton walks along the footpath. We know from Travis that the couple never use their front door, but what if Julius does try the doorbell first. It doesn't work—right, Travis?""Yes.""Okay. What if D'Anton takes a look at the Mitsubishi, left parked; he sees the keys in the ignition—remember, we are just surmising all this, or I am!" He laughed, then stared at the floor, and shrugged. "D'Anton opens the glove compartment, and there's a stash of cash. Remember the two drug dealers said they'd paid five grand to Petrozzo? Maybe it was that cash,
maybe not; either way, for D'Anton, it's like fucking Christmas." Langton sat down, rubbing his head; he finished by saying that D'Anton had to have got a wad of money from somewhere, as he returned to the antiques shop and tried to take the table, but he couldn't fit it into the back of the jeep.Langton asked for some water as he pointed to the board. "Julius D'Anton drove home. To make sense of the theory, he discovers the drugs, takes them to his storage warehouse, and stashes them there." Langton sipped at the beaker of water handed to him. He stood up. "The one person that connects to almost everyone is Donny Petrozzo. D'Anton scored from him: did he contact him? They arrange to meet, and here I am really out on a limb. D'Anton OD'd on the stuff, he's a junkie, maybe killed himself trying to fathom out what it was, Donny simply tips him into the Thames, and drives the Mitsubishi to Frank's garage, like a fucking homing pigeon." There was a long pause, and eventually Langton looked at the team. "So what do you think?"Anna waited for someone else to take the lead, but no one did."Yes, Travis?""I think if any part of your theory is correct, we have to arrest Damien Nolan and his wife. We also have to focus on tracing the two missing children. They should be our priority."There was a hubbub of everyone talking at once.Anna held her ground. "We now have yet another missing person, Adrian Summers; it's quite likely he was just a pawn in the entire thing. There is also the au pair. If we are to take on board everything DCSLangton has suggested, our prime suspect is still on the loose, and missing is a substantial load of drugs, which looks to be the reason he is still in the UK."Langton turned to Cunningham, who had not said one word throughout. Now she coughed, clearing her throat. "I personally need time to digest everything. I buy some of it, but not all; we need to really start ripping it all apart and get that time frame set, so we can dismiss or agree on this scenario. I also feel that we should now arrest both Damien Nolan and his wife."Langton looked as if he was going to jab his finger in her chest. "No! We hold off until I am ready. In the meantime, I want a full press release. I want them at Scotland Yard: every pen pusher possible, from every crime page. We break the news on the search for the two children and the au pair—they are to be the priority—and we name our suspect, Alexander Fitzpatrick! Let them Google him, and see what they come up with!"Cunningham had two pink spots on her cheeks as she controlled her anger. She asked politely if Langton would join her in her office before she walked out. They broke for the night; it was after nine.
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