Michael suddenly looked even more stressed, which delighted John. His whole plan was based on the assumption that Michael wouldn’t like the idea of the police coming between him and Leon Tarasov.
‘No, no,’ Michael said, waving his arms and sounding panicky. ‘You don’t need to call the police.’
‘I’m afraid I have to,’ John said. ‘I’m sure you’re an honest man Mr Patel, but some people who’ve been caught out like this cut their losses by getting the car repaired and then selling it on to the next unsuspecting punter through a classified ad. It’s Auto Club policy to inform the police as soon as we discover a potentially dangerous vehicle.’
‘No,’ Michael said, with a hint of desperation. ‘You see, I’m a cop myself. I’ll show you my ID.’
Michael dashed into the house and grabbed his warrant card out of his jacket. By the time he’d got back, he’d thought up an excuse.
‘You see,’ Michael said, as John inspected the badge, ‘this will come through to the vehicle crime unit at my station. I’ll be a complete laughing stock if this gets out. But I’ve got a mate who works in motor vehicles. He’ll help me save my blushes, you understand?’
John scratched his chin like he was thinking it over. ‘Well, Mr Patel, my obligation is to tell the police and I suppose you are the police.’
‘That’s right.’ Michael looked relieved. ‘And I bet it saves you some hassle if it’s done this way as well.’
John grinned. ‘Yes, a bit.’
‘Great,’ Michael said.
‘I guess that there’s no reason for me to stick around then,’ John said.
Michael reached out and shook John’s hand. John headed back to his recovery truck. He grabbed his two-way radio off the passenger seat as he drove away.
‘Did you catch all that, Chloe?’ John asked cheerfully. ‘Do you think I pulled it off?’
Chloe came back laughing. ‘Yeah, bang-up job John. I reckon our Mr Patel is going to be out gunning for Leon Tarasov any minute now.’
10:11
Lauren and Kerry stepped out of the lift into the seventeenth-floor corridor. Lauren was holding her tummy.
‘I ate too much breakfast,’ she groaned. ‘One of these days I’m gonna work out that all you can eat buffet doesn’t mean you have to eat all of it.’
The girls had an air of excitement about them as Kerry grabbed a room key from her wallet. She tutted as she flicked away a piece of popcorn.
‘How the hell did it get in there? That’s James and his stupid popcorn fight.’
‘We started on him,’ Lauren reminded her.
Kerry grinned as she pushed the heavy room door. They kept the noise down as they stepped through to the adjoining room, in case Chloe was on the phone or something.
‘Hello girls. All washed and fed now?’ Chloe asked.
‘Overfed,’ Lauren said. ‘What did we miss? Has John gone out yet?’
‘He’s already on his way back.’
Kerry looked at her watch. ‘That was quick. Did Patel buy the cut-and-shut ruse?’
‘Hook, line and sinker,’ Chloe grinned. ‘The duplicate car worked a treat. I just taped a phone call between Michael and Patricia’s mobiles. She was in the hairdressers, so she couldn’t go too nuts, but you could tell how mad she was. She was screaming at Michael, telling him to speak to Leon and demand their seventeen grand back. And listen to this.’
Chloe hit a volume slider on her computer screen so that the sound from the Patels’ house came out through the speakers.
‘This is the live feed,’ Chloe explained.
Michael was pacing around, breathing furiously and occasionally pounding on something.
‘Why doesn’t he ring Leon, or go to see him?’ Lauren asked.
Chloe shrugged. ‘I guess he’s trying to work out what to say.’
A red warning box popped up on Chloe’s computer: Wiretap Six: dialling. The numbers appeared on screen a fraction of a second after Michael Patel hit them. By the time he’d dialled the area code and the first two numbers, they knew it was going to be Tarasov.
Kerry grinned at Lauren. ‘Stand by for fireworks.’
33. SPARKS
10:15
A couple of ex-fleet cars had come in from auction and Dave was vacuuming the interiors when Pete stuck his head out of the cabin holding a cordless phone to his ear.
‘You seen Leon?’
Dave pointed towards the brick-built toilet. Pete walked over and slid the handset under the door to his uncle. Leon put down his Racing Post and picked the phone off the floor.
‘Yeah, Leon Tarasov speaking.’
‘You’re lucky I don’t kill you,’ Michael screamed. ‘I just had the Auto Club out