Читать книгу The Manhattan Puzzle - Laurence O’Bryan - Страница 27

The dirty white van with the ACE PLUMBING sticker on its side shook a little as the police car went by. The two men inside didn’t react. They were in the back of the van and could see the front door of the house the police had come from and the entrance to the lane that ran around the houses without moving an inch. But they couldn’t be seen. The black one-way filter on the back windows of the van made sure of that.

Each of the men had two plastic bottles. One to drink from. A second to piss into. It could be a long night. A lot of people stay at home, weeping, when their lives fall apart. Others head for relatives or friends. Some ramble the streets or visit people they blame for what’s happened to them.

Their instructions from Henry Mowlam had been clear. Report on the movements of the target, photograph everyone she meets. Watch out, in particular, for anyone else taking an interest in Isabel Ryan or her house. It was unusual for Henry to request live surveillance, but when he did there was always a good reason.

As the larger of the two men moved in his seat, he reached down and adjusted the holster strapped above his ankle. It was unlikely he’d have to use the weapon, but he always carried it. You never knew what way a job like this could go. There had already been one recent murder in London related to the woman they were watching and further incidents in the past.

He pulled his trouser leg down, hiding the gun.

‘Did you hear what happened to that dancer who was murdered’ he said, softly. Then he leaned towards his companion.

‘Whoever did that was pure fucking evil. This ain’t no ordinary murderer we’re tracking. Just make sure you stay awake on your watch, mate. I don’t want no pieces of my skin getting cut off.’