Lone Wolf - Robert Muchamore Page 0,56
watched the nurse’s hand disappear into her trouser pocket.
‘Hey,’ he warned, but she kept moving and delicately removed an iPhone.
‘I’ve worked with Mr Lladro for a long time,’ the nurse said, speaking deliberately to try and diffuse the tension in the room. ‘I’ll give you his new mobile number if you promise to leave immediately. I know he’s moved into an hotel, but I don’t know where it is. But he usually plays a round of golf on Monday morning and you should catch him in the clubhouse for a late lunch.’
Clark sounded pleased as he took the pointed tool away from Greenwin’s throat. ‘Now that wasn’t hard, was it?’
‘It’s not Mr Lladro’s fault,’ the nurse said, her voice rising a few octaves. ‘He’s been through hell since his wife died.’
‘He’s a big boy,’ Clark said. ‘Now I’m going to leave. In case either of you thinks of calling the police, or decides to tip Lladro off, remember this: my boss has a secured loan over this practice, so barring a miracle you’ll be working for him soon. Your home addresses and next of kin details will be on file here, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want me turning up at your house with a couple of angry pals . . .’
To emphasise his point, Clark flicked over a framed picture of Greenwin’s kids. The dentist looked furious, but kept a lid on it as Clark and Ryan backed out.
The receptionist was expecting them to pay for a check-up, and yelled, ‘Excuse me,’ as the pair headed out the door and got into the grungy Prius mini-cab.
‘Right,’ Clark said, as he looked at his watch. ‘It’ll be a while before golden bollocks finishes his round of golf, so who’s on for a big fry-up?’
30. PLANT
Ning had discreetly placed one of the wireless CCTV cameras in a hedge so that it showed the entrance to the former bowls club parking lot, then set up camp with Fay in a little swing park a few hundred metres away. Any lingering doubts about having found the grow house got quashed when the Transit van with two blue stripes rolled up outside.
A park keeper came just before midnight, turfing them out and locking the gate. But the fence was only shoulder high, so the girls had no trouble climbing back in once he was gone.
A pattern emerged through Sunday night and Monday morning. Every eight hours, two guards would enter the former bowls club and two would leave shortly afterwards. Sometime between nine and ten in the morning an additional crew of three men would arrive, one on foot, one in the striped van and one in a battered Honda hatchback.
Occasionally, members of this trio would emerge, either through the main entrance or a set of emergency exit doors. Drums of liquid fertiliser went in full and came out empty, bags of waste got loaded in the van. Their shift seemed to last until mid-afternoon, and the van owner always came out first with two or three bulging rubbish sacks. The guy who arrived on foot got a lift from the guy with the Honda. The only other visitors were a postwoman and moped riders delivering from a nearby pizza place and curry house.
It was 1 p.m. when Fay arrived at the swing park, and Ning was surprised to see Warren holding her hand. They joined Ning on a bench at the edge of a soft play area.
‘And?’ Fay asked bluntly, as Warren put his hand around her back and gave her a peck on the cheek.
‘Looks like the same pattern,’ Ning admitted. ‘The gardening crew and two guards are inside the building right now. I waited until about five minutes after the food delivery, then I walked around the back and hid a second camera.’
Warren didn’t get it. ‘What’s the significance of the food delivery?’
‘They’re less likely to be concentrating on the screens when they’re eating hot food,’ Fay explained.
Ning demonstrated her handiwork by holding up the little LED monitor that came with the CCTV kit. It showed the second camera perfectly centred on the rear fire doors.
‘Next time they open up, we ought to get a look inside.’
Fay nodded as she pulled away from Warren. ‘Good work.’
‘You two seem to be getting along pretty well all of a sudden,’ Ning noted, as she wondered if Fay really liked Warren, or if the kissy-kissy stuff was just a way of keeping their best source of information on side.
‘He’s lovely,’ Fay said jokily, as