Lifting the Lid(93)

‘You okay, Mac?’

‘Uh?’ He’d caught sight of Delia stooping to pick up his briefcase on the edge of his vision, but his focus stayed pinned to Bracewell’s gun.

‘I said are you—’ Delia began again but broke off when he realised the reason for MacFarland’s distraction. ‘Julian.’

Bracewell must have clocked the reproachful tone in Delia’s voice because he instantly looked at his gun as if he was surprised to find it was still in his hand.

‘I say. Sorry, old boy,’ he said, thrusting the pistol back into his pocket. ‘You didn’t think I was going to— Oh dear, that really would have buggered our little entente cordiale, wouldn’t it?’

‘Listen, Mac,’ said Delia, placing a hand on MacFarland’s shoulder. ‘I wouldn’t hang around here if I were you. I’ll be giving the police a bell as soon as we’re clear.’

‘Dinnae worry, pal. I’m just gonna say ma goodbyes and I’m away,’ he said with an exaggerated wink.

Delia turned to go and then hesitated. ‘Give me a call,’ he said. ‘We might have something for you if you’re interested.’

‘Aye? – Well, cheers. I may just take ye up on that.’

As soon as Bracewell and Delia had gone, MacFarland strode over to where Harry was thrashing about on the floor and gave him a hefty kick in the nuts.

‘And there’s one from Haggis Bollocks,’ he said, ‘but ye can call me James Dougal MacFarland.’





CHAPTER FORTY-NINE



Patterson and Statham watched in silence as Coleman opened the apartment door, both of them with their hands inside their jackets, grasping the butts of their guns. Over his shoulder, they could see two uniformed police officers.

‘Evening, sir,’ said the taller of the two. ‘I wonder if I could ask you a few questions.’

‘What about?’

‘I think it might be better if we discussed this inside, sir, if you don’t mind.’

Coleman looked back at Patterson, who rolled his eyes and then indicated with a nod that he should let them in. He moved to the side, and the officers stepped into the flat. Patterson could now see from the markings on their sweaters that the taller one was a sergeant and the other a constable.

‘Quite a little party you’ve got going on here,’ said the sergeant, scanning the room and its occupants. ‘Even got your own DJ, I see.’

Patterson followed his gaze to where Jarvis still sat next to the wall with his back to them, apparently listening so intently through the headphones that he was oblivious to the arrival of their uninvited guests.

‘What is it you want exactly?’ he said, making no attempt to disguise his irritation.

The sergeant was clearly not happy about being spoken to in this way and curled his upper lip like a recalcitrant teenager. ‘You the tenant here, are you, sir? Or perhaps one of your… companions?’ He uttered the word as if it was the verbal equivalent of dog shit that he had just discovered on the sole of his shoe.

‘No, but—’

‘I thought not.’

The speed of the interruption and the smug grin with which it was delivered were unambiguous. The sergeant already knew full well that they were intruders.

‘You see, sir,’ he went on, ‘we’ve had a report from a neighbour that she saw two men entering the flat even though the legitimate tenant is away on a fortnight’s holiday in Majorcal.’

Despite his annoyance, Patterson couldn’t help but smile at the bizarre habit Bristolians had of adding an “L” to words which ended in a vowel. Then, with all the superficial politeness he could muster, he explained who they were and why it had been necessary to break into the flat, keeping the details to the barest minimum. The sergeant, however, was not to be deprived of his moment of glory quite so easily. Even when Patterson and the others showed him their identification, he remained steadfastly unconvinced and expressed his doubts that the ID cards were genuine. Patterson offered to give him the numbers of half a dozen contacts he could call who would verify that they were who they said they were, but he wasn’t buying this either.

‘And how do I know they’re who you say they are?’ he said. ‘I’ll make my own enquiries, thank you very much.’

Several minutes then passed while the constable made a variety of calls over his radio. All the while, Patterson paced back and forth, occasionally pausing to check whether Jarvis had picked up anything of importance, but there was little that he didn’t know already. Although he still had no plan as to how to proceed with the operation, he fervently hoped that the pompous jobsworth of a sergeant would soon get his confirmation and bugger off out of the way.