The Fourth Cart

  Chapter Sixteen

  Magee held up a walkie-talkie to his mouth and whispered, ‘Are we all ready?’ He looked around at the assortment of police officers spread around Sussex Gardens. He received a chorus of “Yes, sir,” and the odd thumbs up sign.

  Magee turned to Melissa and said, ‘Action at last, eh? Just what your uncle wanted for you.’

  ‘I’m not sure he wanted me to get quite so involved,’ Melissa replied. ‘I’m not sure whether I want to get this involved either.’

  ‘Nervous?’

  ‘Yes, sir. I am.’

  ‘Good. The adrenaline will keep you alert.’

  ‘I’d feel safer with a gun, sir. I’m a good shot.’

  ‘So am I, Melissa, but I’m a family man, it’s an area I’d rather not get involved in. Best left to the experts.’

  The expression on Melissa’s face turned from anxiety to frustration. ‘Do you reckon he’s inside the flat?’

  ‘Unlikely,’ Magee responded. ‘If he has any sense he would have ditched the Renault by now. He must have known we were in sight of his number plate. Still, you never know your luck.’

  ‘It’s time, sir.’ The remark came from behind Magee.

  ‘Come on then lads, in we go!’

  Magee's team marched along Sussex Gardens. Two officers behind Magee carried enforcers, the rest were armed with automatic rifles or hand guns. Magee halted at the front door of Number 4 and pressed the bell marked Flat C. There was no reply. He tried again, only to be met with silence. He tried Flat A instead. The intercom buzzed.

  ‘Yes?’ a slow, sexy, female voice asked in a long drawn out sigh. Magee had never heard so much suggestiveness put into one solitary word.

  ‘Police, madam. Open up, please.’

  ‘What have I done now?’ The sexy tone had vanished.

  ‘Nothing, madam. We just want to get inside the building. We're after another occupant.’

  ‘Oh, well, suit yourself!’

  After a long buzz had sounded, Magee pushed the front door open. Three uniformed and six plain-clothed officers bundled into the building only to be confronted by the sight of a Marilyn Monroe look-alike in a pink chiffon dressing gown provocatively standing near her doorway.

  ‘Oh my word!’ she exclaimed, ‘Are you sure I can't help any of you gentlemen?’

  All the men, except Magee, stood staring at the vision, their eyes out on stalks. Magee quickly appraised the woman’s appearance. He was sure that police harassment featured regularly in her profession. No wonder the woman thought she was in trouble.

  ‘Is this a bust?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, madam.’ Magee rather liked the woman’s frankness.

  ‘How wonderful! Coffee anyone? Tea, perhaps?’

  All the men nodded, but Magee spoke firmly, ‘If you don't mind, madam, we have work to do.’

  ‘Shame. Later perhaps?’

  Magee ignored the woman’s plea and asked, ‘Can you tell me anything about the occupant of Flat 4C?’

  ‘Our oriental gentleman? No, not much. He doesn't stay here that often. When he does, though, he usually has a young man with him, if you know what I mean. He seems to like young muscular escorts. I've dropped a few hints that I can help out with any arrangements, but he doesn't seem interested. I haven't spoken to him for months.’

  ‘Is he in?’ Magee asked.

  ‘I don't think so. I tend to notice people coming and going.’

  With typical English restraint, Magee said, ‘Well, if you'll excuse us, we'll just pop upstairs. Auckland, you stay down here just in case. Give the lady some protection.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ DS Auckland replied. He stepped forward with a broad grin on his face whilst the others stared at him with apparent envy.

  ‘And don't let your mind wander from your job,’ Magee quipped, as DS Auckland disappeared into Flat 4A.

  At the top of the stairs, Magee knocked on the front door of Flat 4C, but, as expected, there was no reply. He nodded to the two men yielding the enforcers. Four violent blows later and the door flew open.

  ‘Check it out lads,’ Magee ordered. Five officers split off in different directions.

  Magee wandered around the flat, his hopes diminishing by the second. The place was empty, devoid of life. He saw just the barest minimum of furniture to make a short stay viable. There were no bills lying around, no correspondence, no milk in the fridge, no personal items. It was just somewhere to sleep and wash, somewhere for private liaisons perhaps. It was also clinical in its appearance; whoever used it didn’t want to be identified.

  ‘Damn!’ Magee muttered as Melissa approached. ‘I really thought we’d cracked it.’

  ‘Maybe SOCO will be able to lift some prints.’

  ‘I doubt it, Melissa. This place is sterile,’ Magee said, running a finger along the top of the skirting board. He must have it professionally cleaned every time it’s used.’

  ‘Obsessive behaviour, or mere paranoia?’

  ‘Either. Both perhaps,’ Magee said absently. ‘But you can’t rent or buy a flat without leaving records.’

  Melissa grimaced. ‘More paperwork?’

  ‘Not necessarily. Take over here, Melissa. I'm going to relieve Auckland. I've got my appetite back. Maybe our friendly lady downstairs would rustle me up a sandwich.’

  Melissa stared at Magee's disappearing back with amazement. ‘You wicked old bastard!’ she muttered.