‘I haven’t figured that bit out either.’
‘I don’t mind,’ Bradshaw said. ‘If Poe thinks—’
‘No!’ everyone yelled in unison.
‘You need to be somewhere else, Tilly,’ Poe said. ‘But I’m not benching you. Idohave a role for you.’
‘If I’ve understood you correctly, dear boy,’ Locke said, ‘you plan to have the mannequin in place before our driver arrives at the house of Miss Bradshaw’s parents?’
Poe nodded.
‘Our driver enters the house via the integral garage, then goes upstairs to Miss Bradshaw’s bedroom.’
‘Yes.’
‘They then turn on her desk light, and hide under the desk, occasionally reaching up to move the mannequin.’
‘Is it crazy?’
‘Fucking A, it’s crazy,’ Flynn said. ‘It’s the stupidest idea you’ve ever had, Poe. And given that you tried to drive across the Irish Sea in a BMW five years ago, that’s quite a high threshold.’
‘Yes,’ Locke said. ‘I fear itisa crazy plan.’
No one said anything.
‘But?’ Flynn said.
‘But what, dear?’
‘There’salwaysa “but” with you, Alastor.’
‘But this is the nation that dressed up a dead tramp as a Royal Marines captain, set him adrift in Spanish waters with some forged documents, and successfully fooled Hitler into thinking the Allied forces intended to invade Greece rather than Sicily.’
‘I know what Operation Mincemeat was, Alastor,’ Flynn said. ‘Do you have a point?’
‘My point, Stephanie, is thatallthe best plans are crazy.’ He removed his ornate notebook from his inside pocket and jotted something down. ‘Now, might I suggest a few revisions?’
Chapter 94
Alastor Locke’s revisions were good ones. They didn’t so much refine Poe’s idea as simplify it. And when you were playing with live rounds, simplicity was your friend.
The first revision he’d suggested was ditching the mannequin idea completely. He said Flynn was right; a mannequin, even one being moved by the person acting as Mrs Hudson, wouldn’t look natural. He said they needed to use live bait. And he knew exactly who he wanted. He made a whispered phone call and ninety minutes later another helicopter landed at Highwood.
They all stepped out to meet it. Hannah Finch, a woman Poe and Bradshaw had met when they’d been seconded to MI5 on a previous case, climbed out, her hair flapping wildly in the helicopter’s downwash. She joined them at the door. Shook hands with them all.
‘I’m Hannah Finch,’ she said to Flynn. She grinned. ‘I assume this is another of Poe’s hare-brained schemes?’
Poe and Finch had endured a difficult relationship. They were both part of the team assigned to investigate a helicopter pilot’s murder, a murder that might have been linked to an important trade summit. Poe had her arrested for stealing evidence. Bradshaw hadn’t liked that at all. She’d thought, correctly, that arresting an MI5 field agent might have . . . repercussions. But they’d ended on good terms, both doing their bit to expose something bigger than either of them had imagined.
‘I’ve chosen Hannah because she has the same light build as Miss Bradshaw,’ Locke said. ‘She’s worked with you all before sodoesn’t require extensive briefing and, most importantly, I trust her completely.’
One of Locke’s edicts, one he said was absolute, was that the circle was kept small. The only people who knew what they were planning were now in the room. No one else would be brought inside. Poe had wanted to tell the cop who’d replaced Commander Mathers, but Locke wouldn’t hear of it.
‘I’ve spent my life keeping secrets and uncovering secrets, Poe,’ Locke had said. ‘And the one thing I’ve learned is that the more people who know a secret, the harder it is to keep. More importantly, we don’t know who Ezekiel Puck is still in touch with. We don’t know who he’sthreatened. But you may take it as gospel that he has an ear inside the investigation.’
‘You can’t know this,’ Poe had said.
‘Oh, but I do.’
