The Last Nazi (A Joe Johnson Thriller, Book 1) by Andrew Turpin

Author:Andrew Turpin [Turpin, Andrew]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
ISBN: 9781788750004
Publisher: The Write Direction Publishing
Published: 2017-08-15T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty

Monday, November 28, 2011

London

Jayne came into the kitchen area, rubbing her shower-wet hair with a towel, a bath robe wrapped around her.

“Joe, have a look at this. Last night’s evening paper. They didn’t waste any time.”

She threw a copy onto the table.

Johnson hadn’t seen the paper, although he had already told Jayne what had happened during the nocturnal visit to the workshop with Bomber Tim and had then shown her the e-mail from Nat Goodman.

The lead story on page three carried a large headline that shouted, “Murder Hunt As Mutilated Body Found in Workshop.”

Below it was a large picture of the Classic Car Parts workshop facade.

A Metropolitan Police detective chief inspector was quoted in the story as saying there appeared to be no obvious motive for the killing of Keith Bartelski. The culprits appeared to have entered the building via an unbolted coal hatch door, but there were no other leads so far and no arrests. Police were working around the clock on the inquiry.

Johnson snorted into his coffee.

The report went on to state that the dead man had no immediate family and that his work colleagues, including the business owner, a Leopold Skorupski, had been unavailable for comment.

When Johnson had finished reading, Jayne sat down. “So what are you going to do next?”

“I’m thinking about what to do with this e-mail. It obviously reeks of a setup. A very amateurish one.”

“I agree. But on the other hand it might just be—”

“I know,” Johnson said. “It might be a lead.” He was also thinking it might give him a way of derailing the Argentinians.

“Well, follow it up, but do it your way.” She stood and headed toward the door. “You don’t need me to tell you what to do. Take the usual precautions. Check it out from a distance. You’ve got a gun—the one I never gave to you. Get there early. I’ve got some binoculars in the cupboard over there.”

She was right, and that was the way Johnson was leaning. He didn’t like leaving stones unturned.

Jayne added, “By the way, one thing you need to know: the police apparently picked up an Argentinian yesterday at lunchtime in south London somewhere. He was in a pub. The police had a tip and found a stash of antitank mines, rocket launchers, and ammunition in his car boot. Name of Felipe—didn’t get his surname. I don’t know if it’s got any connection with your Argentine mob, probably not, but I’ve asked one of my team to check it out for me. MI5 will be onto it, and I need to log it for our Olympics work. I’ll let you know if we hear anything.”

“Antitank mines? Do they know what he was planning to do with them?” Johnson asked.

“No, no idea, not yet. Got to go and get dressed and head to work.”

With that, Jayne disappeared into her room. She emerged fifteen minutes later to give him a quick goodbye over her shoulder as she headed for the door.

By the time Fiona called him at quarter past eight, Johnson had mapped out a plan in his mind and had a bag packed.

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