‘Professor, we’ve been looking for you.’
Bircham-Fowler did not look hurt, or particularly distressed. A little dishevelled perhaps, but then Mona was not about to throw stones on that particular front, not after two days tramping the streets of London in the blazing sun. The professor appeared to be coping with the heat better than she was; how anyone could wear a tweed jacket when it was 28°C in the shade was beyond her. He did appear to have made the concession of removing his tie.
‘We’re with the HET.’ Paterson stuck a hand out for the academic to shake. He ignored him, and focused on Theresa.
‘Did you see her?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, Sandy, and she’s beautiful.’
‘Oh, Tess. Do you think she’ll talk to me?’
Theresa patted his arm. ‘I think she will but not today. You’ve taken her by surprise. Give her a bit of time to get used to the idea.’
‘Mona.’ Paterson’s voice was low and urgent. ‘Ten o’clock.’
She turned in that direction. A bearded man, and a younger clean-shaven guy were sitting in a dark blue Ford Fiesta, both of them engrossed in their newspapers.
‘Could be nothing, Guv.’
‘Could be, or it could definitely be something. Who reads newspapers in this day and age? Anyway, let’s not take any chances. You get hold of the prof.’
She nodded. ‘Theresa.’
Theresa looked momentarily annoyed that her conversation with the professor had been interrupted, then saw the look on Paterson’s face. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘I need you to do something for me. I need you to go back into Maria’s house and stay there.’
‘Why?’ She frowned.
‘Just trust me, please.’
She stared at him, and Mona could see her thinking this request over.
‘We will keep the professor safe, I promise.’
‘You’d better.’ She patted the professor on the arm again, then crossed the road without a backward glance.
‘OK, Prof, time to go.’ Mona and the Guv took an arm each and started walking.
He looked back over his shoulder in the direction of the house. ‘But my daughter . . .’ He stopped walking. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
‘We’re being followed, Professor. You may be in danger.’
‘But . . .’
‘Don’t bring that to your daughter’s house.’
This was the right tactic. The professor started to stride swiftly and purposefully along the street. The Ford Fiesta pulled out and drove slowly along behind them. It was definitely something.
‘Not exactly discreet, is it, Guv?’
‘I’d say worryingly indiscreet. It could be a diversion, you know, keep us so involved in watching them that we run straight into someone on foot. Let’s get somewhere busy. We need crowds.’
‘The High Street is to our left,’ said the professor. ‘I’ve just come from there.’
‘Let’s try here, Guv.’ A path led off from Maria’s street, seemingly housing the back doors and recycling bins of a number of local businesses. At the end of the lane, some 200 metres away, they could see shops and a smattering of people. ‘We cut up here and they can’t follow us in the car.’
‘Come on, Professor.’ Paterson pulled him into the lane, with Mona gently pushing his back.
‘I’m going as fast as I can.’ He stumbled, and Mona took a firm grip of his arm. Looking over her shoulder she could see that the Ford Fiesta had parked at the bottom of the lane, cutting off their chance of retreating back in that direction if they needed to. She was beset by a horrible suspicion that they had been deliberately herded this way.
‘Can we pick up the pace a little, Professor?’ asked Paterson. ‘Just in case there’s a welcoming party at the end of the lane.’
Crowds were their best hope. They needed to be in amongst a large group of other people who could witness any attempt on the professor’s liberty. Get the professor onto the High Street, into a busy café, and they could phone Stuttle for instructions. She assumed this turn of events would take him by surprise; if he’d thought the prof was in danger of anything more than missing a Health Check, she was sure there would have been more than just the two of them dispatched to find him.
The lane was narrowing due to the row of bins and she squeezed closer to the professor in order to fit past, wrinkling her nose at the smell of refuse. The back door of a pub swung open, and they heard a brief blast of rock music. A drunk staggered out, swaying right across their path.
‘All right, love.’ He bumped into her. ‘Fancy a dance, darling?’ She pushed him away, and he bounced against a bin before staggering off.
‘Ow,’ said the professor. ‘Something’s bitten me.’ He pulled his arm free of her grip, and started fiddling with his shirt.
‘Keep moving, Professor,’ said Paterson. ‘We’re nearly in a safe place.’
Mona looked round. The drunk had vanished, a remarkable feat for a man who minutes earlier had been staggering all over the place. There was also no sign of the Ford Fiesta.
The professor ground abruptly to a halt, causing Mona to bump into him. ‘Look.’ He held out a small metal object. ‘That man stuck this into me.’
‘Fantastic,’ said the Guv. ‘Someone’s poisoned him. OK, sir, let’s get you moving while you still can.’
Mona took his arm again, and they stepped out on to the High Street, the professor wobbling as they went.
‘I have to say I’m feeling rather woozy.’
‘Just try and keep upright, sir. Let’s get him in there.’ Paterson pointed at a chain store.
Mona pushed the glass entrance open with her back, and they hauled the professor inside. There was a lift facing them with its doors wide open.
‘In here?’
‘Why not?’
They bundled him into it and pressed the highest number.
‘I’m really not . . .’ The professor slumped against the wall, and his eyes closed. The Guv put an arm round him to stop him sliding to the floor.
‘Jesus, Guv, have they killed him?’ She held the professor’s face with both hands, and was relieved to find he was still breathing.
‘Well, this is a fucking shambles and no mistake.’ Paterson stared at her. ‘What do we do now?’