Monday morning, a light drizzle settled over Starmouth. It matched Temple's mood exactly. Today, he thought, I'm not going in to the bloody station. He decided to drive up to the hill overlooking Grange Farm, see if Brenda had left any messages. At least, he might see the dogs. They were a damn sight better than catching sight of Baker. As he drove out of town the mists cleared and Woodbury Common was bathed in sunshine. He took this as an omen that he had done the right thing.
At midday, PC Truscott heard Temple's phone ringing. The Desk Sergeant told him to answer it. It was Sam Walters from the Yard. Truscott grew increasingly flustered as he searched for a pen and something to write on. He scribbled the message and replaced the receiver. He was unsure what to do next. It sounded important and he wasn't sure where Temple was. He propped the note on a pile of files on Temple's desk and hoped he'd see him later in the day.
As later events unfurled, Truscott wished he'd had the sense to find out exactly where Temple was. But he didn't and the consequences were to prove disastrous.
**************
Pete Willis had returned to Exeter late on the Sunday evening. The Browning was carefully concealed in the false base of his attache case. Arriving back at his flat, he called Redbourne to check, one final time, Temple's address and his car number.
It was agreed that Monday evening would be the ideal time for the hit. Redbourne barely concealed his impatience. Willis' parting words to him were:
"Easy does it, Rex. Better to get everything in order. Neither of us wants any slip-ups, do we?"
"Never have been yet, Pete. So I don't expect any now."
As he put down the phone, Redbourne sighed with relief. At last he could tell Bellamy, WingCo and the others that their biggest obstacle had been removed. Then, he could get back to his dodgy dogs.
***************
Friday, October 8, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Countdown
As he surmised, Temple was not given a replacement for Cantwell. Dutifully, however, Cantwell phoned in most evenings to discuss the day's events.
Temple decided to take the bull by the horns and make himself as conspicuous as he could. Twice in the first week he lunched at The Blandford, taking his time to saunter to the lounge and read the newspapers. WingCo and his wife made their irritation apparent.
On a regular basis, Temple walked passed McBride's surgery making sure he coincided with McBride's sorties out on patient home visits. Their eyes met and Temple always nodded.
He observed when Redbourne and his henchmen left the Turf Accountant office and called in. Each time, Tracey became acutely flustered, just as he had intended.
***************
Willis returned to London, to Camberwell to be precise. He'd been told where he would find a 'clean' handgun. Several times in the last two years he had used guns and he knew that each barrel left a distinct set of striations along the bullets fired. This time, he wanted to make sure there would be no trail leading to him or any of his associates.
The gun he collected was a •25 Browning. It was light and small and fitted easily into his pocket. Since he'd not used one before, he spent time at the boxing gym in East Street. At the back, there was a small gun range. In the old days, it had proved useful. Although the local police knew of its existence, it was seldom raided.
When he felt ready, Willis phoned Redbourne. He was surprised by the response.
"Pete! For God's sake, you're taking your bloody time! Temple's causing us grief by the hour. What the hell 'ave you been doin'?"
Willis laughed, "Rex, calm down! You wouldn't want me to cock it up, would you? I got the piece now and it works fine. I'll be back amongst the yokels by the end of the week."
"You better had! Remember, Pete, this is a nice little earner for you."
**************
The sailors and fishermen at Starmouth harbour became accustomed to Cantwell arriving at the dockside mid morning and parking his car. Then, he mooched about looking for something to do. He looked at the boats, both large and small, as they came into harbour or left it. He watched the cargo being unloaded and then put into lorries. He did this for an hour then went to the small cafe and had a coffee and sticky bun. Out again for another walk round, a chat to some of the men, a peer into the crates then off for lunch.
As far as he could tell, there was nothing really untoward going on: least ways, no big scale smuggling, as Baker had suggested. The odd box of wine and cigarettes did pass through - but that was only to be expected. He turned a blind eye to it. The main traffic was timber and cement, hardly heroin or cocaine.
He was bored. Debbie, however, was delighted with the change. For the first time in years, he was home on time. She could make arrangements for them both to go to the flicks and know he would be there. Also, they had the perk of the car, even when he was off duty. A perk that Baker had given him, quite unexpectedly.
As far as Debbie was concerned, life without Temple was one big improvement.
Temple decided to take the bull by the horns and make himself as conspicuous as he could. Twice in the first week he lunched at The Blandford, taking his time to saunter to the lounge and read the newspapers. WingCo and his wife made their irritation apparent.
On a regular basis, Temple walked passed McBride's surgery making sure he coincided with McBride's sorties out on patient home visits. Their eyes met and Temple always nodded.
He observed when Redbourne and his henchmen left the Turf Accountant office and called in. Each time, Tracey became acutely flustered, just as he had intended.
***************
Willis returned to London, to Camberwell to be precise. He'd been told where he would find a 'clean' handgun. Several times in the last two years he had used guns and he knew that each barrel left a distinct set of striations along the bullets fired. This time, he wanted to make sure there would be no trail leading to him or any of his associates.
The gun he collected was a •25 Browning. It was light and small and fitted easily into his pocket. Since he'd not used one before, he spent time at the boxing gym in East Street. At the back, there was a small gun range. In the old days, it had proved useful. Although the local police knew of its existence, it was seldom raided.
When he felt ready, Willis phoned Redbourne. He was surprised by the response.
"Pete! For God's sake, you're taking your bloody time! Temple's causing us grief by the hour. What the hell 'ave you been doin'?"
Willis laughed, "Rex, calm down! You wouldn't want me to cock it up, would you? I got the piece now and it works fine. I'll be back amongst the yokels by the end of the week."
"You better had! Remember, Pete, this is a nice little earner for you."
**************
The sailors and fishermen at Starmouth harbour became accustomed to Cantwell arriving at the dockside mid morning and parking his car. Then, he mooched about looking for something to do. He looked at the boats, both large and small, as they came into harbour or left it. He watched the cargo being unloaded and then put into lorries. He did this for an hour then went to the small cafe and had a coffee and sticky bun. Out again for another walk round, a chat to some of the men, a peer into the crates then off for lunch.
As far as he could tell, there was nothing really untoward going on: least ways, no big scale smuggling, as Baker had suggested. The odd box of wine and cigarettes did pass through - but that was only to be expected. He turned a blind eye to it. The main traffic was timber and cement, hardly heroin or cocaine.
He was bored. Debbie, however, was delighted with the change. For the first time in years, he was home on time. She could make arrangements for them both to go to the flicks and know he would be there. Also, they had the perk of the car, even when he was off duty. A perk that Baker had given him, quite unexpectedly.
As far as Debbie was concerned, life without Temple was one big improvement.
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