“You’re assuming the dog won’t get him,” Larry pointed out. “You think this fella knows what he’s at?”

I saw the floaters shift as the thought sent a ripple of alertness through them. “That’s what we’re aiming to find out,” I said. “Probably not, or he’d have cleaned up after himself, but I’m not taking any chances. Sunset’s around half past seven, maybe a little later. About eight or half past, as soon as we can’t be seen, Detective Curran and I will head up to that nest, where we’ll spend the night.” I caught Richie’s eye; he nodded. “Meanwhile, two detectives will be patrolling the estate—again, inconspicuously—keeping an eye out for any action, in particular any action heading this way. Any takers?”

All of the floaters’ hands shot up. I picked Marlboro Man—he had earned it—and a kid who looked young enough that one night with no sleep wouldn’t wipe him out for the rest of the week. “Keep in mind that he could come from outside the estate or from inside—he could be hiding out in a derelict house, or he could live here and that’s how he targeted the Spains. If you spot anything interesting, ring me straightaway. Still no radios: we have to assume that this guy is into his surveillance gear, deep enough that he owns a scanner. If someone looks promising, tail him if you can, but your top priority is making sure he doesn’t spot you. If you get even the faintest sense that he’s onto you, back right off and report to me. Got it?”

They nodded. I said, “I’ll also need a pair of techs to spend the night in here.”

“Not me,” Larry said. “You know I love you, Scorcher, but I’ve got a previous engagement and I’m too old for the all-night carry-on, no double entendre intended.”

“No problem. I’m sure someone could do with the overtime, am I right?” Larry mimed his jaw hitting his chest—I have a rep for not authorizing overtime. A few of the techs nodded. “You can bring sleeping bags and take turns getting some kip in the sitting room, if you want to; I just need some kind of ongoing visible activity. Bring things back and forth from your car, swab things in the kitchen, take a laptop out there and pull up a graph that looks professional … Your job is to get our man interested enough that he can’t resist the temptation to go up to his nest, get his binoculars and check out what you’re doing.”

“Bait,” said Gerry the print tech.

“Exactly. We’ve got bait, trackers, hunters, and we’ll just have to hope our man walks into the trap. We’ll have a couple of hours off between six o’clock and nightfall; get something to eat, head back to the office if you need to check in, pick up anything you’ll want for the stakeout. For now, I’ll let you get back to what you’re doing. Thanks, lads and ladies.”