‘Like, your hotel room?’

She shook her head. ‘Too many work people around. I’ll have a think. Somewhere wild, crazy, deeply romantic.’

The erotic tingling inside him was so strong, Niall could barely speak. ‘I like it.’

‘I’ll text you. Late night, somewhere where there won’t be anyone around. I can put the rear seats of the Rangey flat. You bring a bottle of Prosecco and glasses?’

‘What sort of time?’

‘Whenever I can get away without being rude. Probably be near to midnight. Does that sound like a plan?’

He winced as she stroked him. ‘It sounds like a very good plan.’

‘The best plan you ever heard in your life?’

‘Even better.’

After a discreet glance around, checking there were none of her colleagues about, she kissed him on the cheek. ‘You’d better be there.’

99

Monday 9 September

There was now a fourth whiteboard behind Roy Grace in the conference room. It was labelled Rebecca Watkins. Two photographs of her taken through long lenses, and another of her and Niall Paternoster walking on the street, captured by the Surveillance Team, were stuck to it. Below them was a partially filled-in association chart, showing her known network of family and other contacts.

It was 5 p.m. Grace looked up from his notes at the crowded table. ‘This is the twelfth briefing of Operation Lagoon, and we have some significant developments. The first is that, unfortunately, our Surveillance Team has again been temporarily redeployed, but they’re leaving the tracker in place beneath Niall Paternoster’s rental Fiesta.’ He turned to Alexander. ‘Jack, I’m giving you the action of arranging the monitoring of all movements of his vehicle until we get the Surveillance Team back.’

‘I’m on it, sir, and I’m sharing with all the team.’ Addressing them, Alexander said, ‘You’ll each be able to track any movements on your computer and phone screens.’

DC Boutwood raised her hand. ‘Yes, EJ?’ Grace said.

‘Sir, why have they been redeployed at such a critical point?’

‘I’m sure ACC Pewe would be happy to explain, EJ.’ He shrugged. ‘Resources – I’m afraid it is what it is, and we have to get on with it.’

‘Understood, sir.’

‘I’m glad you understand, EJ,’ Norman Potting grumbled. He turned to Grace. ‘Resources – is that shorthand for being dumped on from a great height, chief?’

‘I couldn’t possibly comment, Norman,’ Grace replied with a thin smile. ‘I’ll leave you to form your own conclusions, but we do get the team back later in the week.’

Potting shook his head, making a tutting sound. Ignoring him, Grace continued. ‘I’ve called this briefing earlier than usual because I particularly wanted to have Sharon Orman here this afternoon before we lose her valuable skills. Orman, as some of you know, has developed a formidable lip-reading ability. Around 1 p.m. today she followed Niall Paternoster and Rebecca Watkins into a pub in Croydon, where she was able to observe them from a safe distance and pick up most of their conversation.’ He turned towards her. ‘Sharon, could you tell us what you saw after you entered the Green Dragon pub?’