‘I’d prefer to forget him, but there you are,’ Devlin said.
‘And a weapon?’
‘I’ll take the Smith & Wesson on the ankle holster for emergencies and that Walther with the silencer I got from Carver.’
‘Would you anticipate any killing?’ Ryan asked and looked troubled.
‘The last thing I want. Have you got that sap of yours?’
‘God, I was forgetting.’
Ryan opened the kitchen table drawer and produced the leather sap. It was loaded with lead and there was a loop for the wrist. It was a thing carried by many London taxi drivers for self-protection. Devlin weighed it in his hand and put it down beside the Walther.
‘That’s everything then?’ Ryan said.
Devlin smiled lightly. ‘All we need is Steiner now.’
The door opened and Mary came in. Her uncle said, ‘God, I’m starving, girl. Bacon and eggs all round if you can manage it.’
‘No problem,’ she said, ‘but we’re out of bread and tea. I’ll just run along to the High Street before the shop closes. I shan’t be long,’ and she took her beret and raincoat down from behind the door and went out.
The old lady at the shop managed her a tin of black-market salmon and some cigarettes as well as the bread and tea, and Mary was carrying them in a carrier bag when she left. The fog was rolling in, the traffic slow and she stopped cautiously on the next corner before crossing the road.
Eric Carver, at the wheel of his brother’s Humber limousine, had stopped at the traffic lights. She was only a yard or two away as she passed, and he saw her clearly. She crossed the road and turned into a side street. As the lights changed, he went after her, pulled the Humber in at the kerb, got out and followed cautiously.
Mary turned into Cable Wharf, walking as quickly as she could and crossed to the house. As she went round the corner, Eric hurried across and peered round cautiously. She had just reached the kitchen door.
It opened and he heard Devlin say, ‘Ah, there you are, girl. Will you come in out of that?’
The door closed. Eric said softly, ‘Right, you bastard. I’ve got you,’ and he turned and hurried away.
Jack Carver was in his bedroom dressing when Eric burst in. Carver said, ‘How often have I told you, Eric? I don’t like anyone coming in here when I’m dressing and that includes you.’
‘But I’ve found him, Jack. I’ve found where that rotten little bastard’s shacked up. I saw the girl. I followed her home and he was there.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Of course I bloody am.’
‘Where was this?’
‘A place called Cable Wharf. It’s in Wapping.’
‘Right.’ Carver nodded in satisfaction, put on his jacket and went through to the sitting room, Eric following.
‘So, what are we going to do?’ Eric demanded as his brother sat behind his desk.
‘Do? We’re going to sort him,’ Carver said.
‘When?’
Carver checked his watch. ‘I’ve got a big game on tonight, you know that. Probably finish around ten. We’ll pay him a call after that when he thinks he’s nicely tucked up for the night.’ Carver smiled, opened a drawer and took out a Browning. ‘Just you and me and our friend here.’
There was an unholy look on Eric’s face. ‘Christ, Jack, I can’t wait,’ he said.
Lieutenant Benson arrived at the Priory just before seven. He said hello to the porter who admitted him and went straight upstairs. Strictly speaking, as the MP had told Steiner that morning, his leave wasn’t up until midnight, but the only available train to London from his parents’ home in Norwich had been an early one. When he was admitted to the corridor in the upper floor he found a corporal sitting in his office who jumped to his feet at once.
‘You’re back, sir.’
‘I should have thought that was obvious, Smith. Where’s Sergeant Morgan?’
‘Went off about an hour ago, sir.’
‘Everything calm while I’ve been away?’
‘I think so, sir.’
‘Let’s have a look at the log.’ Smith handed it over and Benson leafed through it. ‘What’s this entry here on the admittance sheet? Major Conlon?’