Joad left the Summertown police station at four o’clock on the dot. Oxford is a city that does its best to deter traffic from the centre and, like many of his colleagues, Joad was forced to park in one of the park-and-ride schemes out of town.
He caught a bus into the town centre, Huss dawdling along behind on her old mountain bike. Oxford is very bicycle friendly, or certainly tries to fool itself it is, strong on initiatives, short on action, but the bike remained the most sensible way to tail Joad.
Wearing a college scarf she was not entitled to, with a helmet and mask, Huss blended in perfectly with the myriad other cyclists. She was invisible.
She slowed as the bus arrived in the centre of Oxford. The road here near George Street was a bottleneck. It was a horrible cocktail of exhaust fumes, angry motorists, bewildered visitors, throbbing bus engines and coaches disgorging or collecting tourists who milled around in the road, adding to the confusion. The streets themselves here always seemed narrow and meanly proportioned. It was her least favourite part of central Oxford, a human anthill that had been poked with a stick.
Joad had spotted Huss from more or less the moment he left the police station. There was a major flaw in Huss’s assessment of Joad’s character. Contrary to Huss’s opinion of him, Joad was far from stupid. He also had a paranoid streak, exacerbated by his own criminal activities, which led him to assume the eyes of the authorities were on him at most times. He was forever looking over his shoulder.
He did wonder why Huss was following him. The trouble was that Joad had four or five scams on the go and he wasn’t sure which one had engaged her interest. The most likely one would be his expense claims for informant pay-offs. Huss’s boss, Templeman, signed off on these and Joad had been sailing close to the wind with the flasher investigation. That’s what he assumed this was about.
Joad always liked to have an acceptable explanation for everything, no matter how far-fetched.
He used his time on the bus to review his own explanations for payments to known prostitutes. These were, of course, for sex, but highly discounted for police rates. He would claim that he was questioning them to see if they knew the flasher. He was probably local. He probably used sex workers. He was reported as having genital malformation. Maybe the prostitutes could put a face to the penis. The prostitutes needed to be paid for their time. That sounds reasonable, he thought to himself.
Huss’s fond belief that she had blended seamlessly with the student traffic was misplaced. Joad would have recognized her burly frame no matter what she’d been wearing. Huss was quite distinctive in that respect. From his vantage point on top of the double-decker bus, he was ideally situated to keep her in sight and to decide when to lose her. She was also wearing a pink cycling helmet and Joad could easily keep track of her. As the bus slowed near George Street, very close to the Blenheim Hotel, the other traffic crowded round and Joad made his move.
Huss was hanging back about ten metres from the bus when Joad slipped off the vehicle behind the sizeable bulk of an overweight woman, who had to squeeze herself past the metal pole by the middle door of the bus. Cornmarket Street was full of shoppers and he could see Huss’s head swaying backwards and forwards as she tried to spy him in the crowd. She caught a glimpse of the back of his head as he slipped into a major department store on the opposite side of the road to George Street. Huss was now in a quandary. She didn’t want simply to abandon the bike to its fate outside the shop and she also felt that she’d be ridiculously conspicuous in her cycling gear if she walked through a shop catering for middle-aged women, full of safe, conservative, clothing.
Continually checking that the sweating Lycra-clad form of Huss wasn’t behind him, Joad strode confidently to the rear of the store, taking his warrant card out of his pocket as he went. He walked up to a cheerful-looking middle-aged woman shop assistant and said to her, ‘Sorry to bother you, love. Police. No need to be alarmed. Is there a rear entrance that I can use?’
‘Of course, follow me.’ She smiled excitedly. This was a welcome break from routine.
She led Joad helpfully down a couple of corridors at the back of the shop to a loading-bay area.
‘Go through that door, that’ll take you to Turl Street.’ ‘Thanks very much,’ said Joad.
He passed through the loading bay and, as she had said, found himself in the broad, quiet streets behind George Street. There was no sign of Huss.
Five minutes later, he was ordering what he felt was a well- deserved pint, in the pub he had chosen for his meeting with Dimitri.
Here’s to informants and the Oxford flasher, he thought.
He became aware of a hulking presence at his side.
‘Hello, Dimitri,’ said Joad cheerily. ‘What can I get you to drink?’