Bad Company (Sean Dillon) by Jack Higgins

Author:Jack Higgins [Higgins, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
ISBN: 9780425195215
Amazon: 042519521X
Publisher: Berkley
Published: 2004-04-06T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7.

MARCH WEATHER, DUSK falling early, rain drifting in across the Thames, and in the darkness of the porch of the church in Brick Lane, Marco Rossi waited in a black trench coat and rain hat.

Rossi wasn't sure what he intended to do, and had certainly not mentioned to the Baron what he was up to, and yet there was a certain inevitability to things. He hadn't driven in his own car and had taken a taxi to Wapping High Street and walked the rest of the way, which perhaps meant something.

He'd been there an hour, watching the house, not sure what he was waiting for, and then a light went on over the door, it creaked open and the old lady appeared with the Scottie on a lead. She was wearing a headscarf and a raincoat and put up an umbrella.

"Good boy, Benny," she said, and set off down the pavement for the corner shop, whose lights were still on.

Rossi hurried along the other side of the churchyard and paused at the end by the wall opposite the shop where the old jetty jutted out into the river. There was no rail, just a single lamp giving a subdued glow. The old lady turned onto the jetty and walked to the end with Benny. Rossi, seizing his opportunity, darted up behind her as she gazed out at the bright lights of a riverboat passing by, put both hands on her back and pushed her over into the water.

She had released her grip on the lead and the dog barked and ran to the edge of the jetty. Rossi looked down, saw her flounder and go under. He dashed away as quickly as he had come to the shelter of the churchyard, and from there made his way back to Wapping High Street.

It was perhaps twenty minutes later that Mr. Patel, distracted by Benny's constant barking, went outside and found the little dog, still with his lead on him, at the end of the jetty.

"What is it, Benny?" Patel demanded, retrieved his lead, then looked over and saw her frail body half in the water below.

The following morning, Charles Ferguson was having breakfast when his phone rang.

"Sir, it's Bernstein."

"Isn't this a bit early, even for you, Superintendent?"

"Just listen, sir. I put Mrs. Sara Grant on the Special Branch Priority One list, just to keep an eye on her."

"And?"

"She was found in the Thames last night, just off that jetty at the end of Brick Lane. The Indian gentleman, Mr. Patel, who owns the store, heard the dog barking and went to investigate. He found it at the end of the jetty with its lead still on and she was in the water."

"Dear God," Ferguson said. "Where is she now?"

"Wapping Mortuary."

"Oh, we're such idiots, Superintendent. Look, we'll have to fast-track the postmortem. I'll telephone Professor George Langley and ask him to do it this morning."

"That is fast, sir."

"He'll do it for me. You will use your authority to take over the case from the Wapping police.

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