Chapter Twenty-Eight

‘A camera obscura?’ Webb said. ‘And it’s still working?’

‘Nothing much to go wrong,’ Harry answered. ‘A little hole and a couple of mirrors.’

Suddenly, there was a flurry of movement, and Annie dashed out from the corner of the building, only to be caught and dragged back out of sight.

‘Hell’s bells, Annie,’ Harry breathed. ‘Don’t start getting self-reliant now, pet.’

Webb picked up the microphone. ‘Grant. If you let Mrs Maddox leave, you and I can talk. I’ll listen. No tricks – just let Mrs Maddox leave. Now.’

There was no response.

Webb leant on the car, and took a cigarette out of the packet. ‘I wish you were a double scotch,’ he told it. ‘If we could just get him on the radio and keep him there, he wouldn’t be able to watch us. Even a camera obscura doesn’t let you be in two places at once.’

Harry dropped his cigarette on the ground as thin snow began to fall. All around were police vehicles, lights flashing, radios chattering, except for theirs. A small crowd had gathered. Harry saw Christine, and looked away, helpless.

But then a thought occurred to him. I know I’m only here on sufferance,’ he said. ‘But he doesn’t like police. I think I could get his attention. And keep it.’

‘All right,’ Webb said. ‘We’ll try again. But just three of us. The weather’s getting worse, and I don’t want a disaster on my hands.’

‘I’m quite nifty with a half-nelson, sir,’ the sergeant said.

‘OK. Take your personal radio, and keep in contact with the inspector. I want to know if there’s the least chance that he’s back up in that thing,’ he told the inspector, who acknowledged the instruction with a grim nod.

‘Could I go, sir?’ The constable whose car Grant had taken.

‘Done. Follow me, and don’t go anywhere except where I go or I direct you.’

‘You, sir?’ said the sergeant.

‘Me, Sergeant. I can still hold my own in a fight. Right, Lambert?’

‘Right,’ Harry said. Providing you have an unfair advantage, he thought to himself.