Dani hadn’t been on a stake-out like this for years, and even after three hours in the cold she felt sure it would be worthwhile. Most criminals weren’t geniuses, and very few knew how to properly run and hide for any length of time, particularly when exactly what they needed – money, shelter, clothes – remained in one place. Home.
Perhaps Grigore thought he was being clever. Hiding from Victor in plain sight. Or perhaps he just saw no other way. Most likely the majority of people he knew also knew Victor Nistor. Grigore – if he was hiding from the boss – was unlikely to have many allies. He needed somewhere to stay, food, clothes, but he couldn’t run the risk of using bank accounts or credit cards, because of the chance that the police too had ID’d him, and would see the activity. He was unlikely to want to burn his limited cash resource on hotels and new clothes and the rest unless absolutely necessary.
Dani was sure she would be proved right. Eventually.
But how long could they wait?
She knew Easton, who was currently in the car, on the street at the opposite end of the back alley, remained less than convinced. And a little agitated that his evening was being slowly eaten into.
At least he wasn’t standing out in the cold. Not right now, anyway.
A chill breeze stung her cheeks and Dani hunkered further into her coat and pulled herself closer to the wall behind her as she spied around the lamppost, down the alley to the barbed-wire-topped wall at the back of 51, nearly a hundred yards in the distance. Technically the alley she was in served the houses on the same road, but there was a cross street halfway between her and 51, cutting the alley in two. Easton was a couple of hundred yards further on the other side.
‘I can literally hear your teeth chattering from here,’ Easton said, his voice just audible through Dani’s radio which was set to its lowest possible volume.
‘Very funny,’ she whispered.
‘I’m not joking. If I have to cover you because you’ve given yourself pneumonia…’
‘Shh,’ she said, whipping her head around when she heard the faintest of sounds behind her.
This had always been the risk. Not only being outside, and more exposed than Easton in the car, but being between two quieter back streets than he was. She’d hoped – if Grigore was coming back at all – that he’d come up the cross street in front of her to enter the alley, but fifty yards away in the other direction, a lone figure had stepped out from the street.
Head down, hands in pockets, the person was moving her way with a measured stride. Whoever it was, there was no indication they knew Dani was there, lurking in the shadows. Within moments, though, they’d be walking right by her. Even with no streetlights here, they would surely spot her in the thin haze of moonlight.
Of course, there was nothing to say this person was Grigore at all, even if there hadn’t been a single other soul walking down here in the last two hours.
But it could be, which was why Dani’s heart was already dancing. Dani kept her eyes on the figure as they neared. The size, the shape. Most likely a man. Dani was certain this wasn’t random. Which was why she was already reaching up with her radio when the man lifted his head, pointing in Dani’s direction.
A split-second later, he turned and ran.
So did Dani.
‘Easton, get around here, now! Brookville Road.’
‘I’m on it.’
‘And call back-up. Just in case. White male. Six foot two. Black hooded coat.’
Dani was already out of breath as she spoke the words. The man – Grigore? – was nearing the end of the alley.
‘Stop! Police!’ Dani shouted.
Her call did nothing to deter the runner.
A flash of the foot-chase from Oldbury, two days ago, burst into Dani’s mind. She’d lost out that time against the mystery man. Had that been Grigore too? But why?
‘He’s gone left,’ she said into the radio. ‘Towards Stratford Road.’
She heard the piqued revs of the engine before she saw the car. Easton sped past her just as she reached the end of the alley. She rushed out, her momentum preventing her from turning the corner sharply enough and causing her to veer across the pavement and out into the road behind the car.
Perhaps that was the same problem the runner had. Or had he simply thought he could make it across to the other side in time before Easton passed?
Either way, Dani watched in shock as the man lurched into the road. Easton’s brake lights flicked on, tyres squealed on the cold ground, but he could do nothing to slow the vehicle in time and there was a thudding impact which sent the burly figure up into the air. He crashed across the bonnet, onto the roof and then smacked back onto the tarmac behind the car, landing in an awkward heap.
Dani raced up to him, already fearing the worst. Easton jumped from the car.
The man was writhing and groaning in pain, clutching his leg which was all twisted. Not a nice sight, but he certainly wasn’t dead, at least.
In the process of the crash, the man’s hood had come down, revealing his meaty face that was now creased in both pain and anger.
Even in the dark, Dani recognised him.
‘Silviu Grigore? I’m arresting you on suspicion of murder.’