Shockwave by Colin Forbes

Author:Colin Forbes [Forbes, Colin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-01-29T05:00:00+00:00

He drove through central London to Finchley where he’d had a bed-sit during the three months he’d once spent in England at Morgan’s suggestion to polish his English. Moving slowly down a suburban side street he spotted a house in complete darkness. He drove on, parked round the corner.

Walking back, he studied the semi-detached house again, then pushed open the gate and made for the side entrance, creeping over a mossy path. There were no lights at the back. He pressed the bell, ready to run if he heard sounds inside. Nothing.

It took him five minutes to break a glass pane in the back door, reach in and turn the key, enter the kitchen, close the door behind him. A cloth was laid over the table. He whipped it off, tucked it under his arm and went down the hall into the front room. A pair of silver-plated candlesticks and a silver-plated bowl were perched on a table. He grabbed them, wrapped them in the table cloth, left the house by the way he had come in.

Snow had begun to fall again in the eerily silent street when he reached his car. He opened the boot, shoved the wrapped articles he’d stolen inside, closed it quietly. Half an hour later he abandoned the car five miles away and close to an Underground station.

One hour later Stieber was alighting from the Underground carriage which had transported him to London Airport. There were no flights until the following morning so he booked a room at the Penta Hotel and after dumping his case in the bedroom he went to the restaurant.

As he ate he checked over the details of his brief visit. He had used no car hire, no taxis. Of course the police would, sooner or later, possibly connect his abandoned car with the murder of Rose. The front of the car was bound to carry relics of its encounter with the doctor. But it would all look like the work of a petty thief, an accidental killing of a pedestrian. The ‘loot’ found in the boot would confirm the theory. The work of what they called a ‘lager lout’ these days. No fence would look twice at silver plate.

Stieber enjoyed his meal, treated himself to a bottle of German Riesling. He’d earned it. Tomorrow he’d fly back to Basle, congratulating himself on a very neat job.

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