Grateful it wasn't that busy, Harry managed a fast exit out of London. She'd driven to the hospital as fast as she could. A sense of dread building in her stomach. When she arrived at the hospital her father had already been admitted to the intensive care unit. As she glanced over the monitors and ventilator, she flashed back to another night spent in a hospital. Gently, Harry squeezed her father's hand. He looked so fragile lying in his hospital gown, surrounded by the machines that were keeping him alive.
"Freddie, I'm here."
The doctor walked in to talk to her. Her father had been on his way back to Winfield Hall. A small lorry had neglected to give him the right of way. Severe head trauma, fractured ribs and pelvis, a collapsed lung and possibly other internal injuries.
"Is there any other next of kin?" The doctor asked. Harry nodded. "I think it's best to notify them now." She read the message in the doctor's eyes. Harry phoned her uncle, Winfield Hall and then Spikings to inform them, before taking her place next to the bed. Her uncle arrived within thirty minutes. She felt his hand on her shoulder.
"Harriet?"
"Uncle William." She stood up to hug him.
"How is Freddie?" William Winfield asked. All she could manage was a shake of her head. That night, Harry sat with her uncle at Freddie's bedside. In a vigil. Early the next morning, Lord Winfield succumbed to his injuries.
It was difficult to concentrate. Spikings gave Dempsey some desk work to do; he was merely shifting around piles of paper from one side to the other. Dempsey suppressed the urge to jump in his car to join Harry in hospital. It was not his place. He felt caged, but he didn't want to leave the office. Sometime in the afternoon, Harry called Spikings with the news of her father's death. When the phone rang, Dempsey listened in on the conversation.
"I'm sorry to hear that girl." Spikings eyed Dempsey. "… We'll talk in a couple of days." Spikings hung up the receiver and cleared his throat.
"Lord Winfield passed away this morning. Harry will be staying at Winfield Hall to make the funeral arrangements." Dempsey ran his hand through his hair. "She'll call you sometime this week." Spikings added.
Waiting made him feel inadequate and restless. Dempsey wasn't cut out for it. He preferred doing something, and he hated the fact that he couldn't do anything to help Harry now.
"Hi."
It was Wednesday evening when he heard Harry's voice on the phone.
"Harry?"
They were both quiet for some time.
"… I'm sorry, Harry. Your father was a good man. I liked him."
"Thank you." He heard her take a few deep breaths before she continued to speak. "The funeral is on Saturday. Spikings and Chas will be there. Perhaps you can drive up with them?" There was a slight hesitation in her voice.
"Tell ya what, why don't I drive up on Friday huh?"
"I'd like that." Another sigh. There was nothing more to say. "Well, I'll see you on Friday then."
"Yeah."
Winfield Hall was as imposing as ever. A resident of the castle had passed away. Yet, the walls remained standing as they had for centuries. Abbott greeted him at the door. Dempsey shook the man's hand.
"My condolences, Abbott."
"Thank you, sir." Abbott reached out for Dempsey's luggage, but Dempsey took hold of his suitcase. "That's okay, Abbott. I'm sure you got better things to do. Same room as last time?"
"Yes, sir. Lady Harriet will be occupied the rest of the afternoon. Preparations for tomorrow, of course." Abbott clarified. "Lady Harriet will join you for dinner in the lounge, later. I will ask Mary to bring some tea to your room, first."
"Thanks."
With the arrangements being made for the funeral, Dempsey didn't feel comfortable strolling around the castle. The ground floor was being cleaned. Chairs put in place in the great hall. Food delivered to the kitchen. He didn't want to stay in his room. Instead, he went for a walk around the grounds. When dusk set in, he made his way to the lounge. A fire crackled in the fireplace. He chose an aperitif from Lord Winfield's bar and was pouring himself a small glass when Harry walked in. Straight to one of the large armchairs next to the fireplace. She covered her face with her hands as she sank into the chair. Dempsey poured a second glass, walked over to sit in the other chair and put the two glasses on the side table. Harry let her head fall sideways to look at him.
"Thank you, for coming."
"You look tired."
"I am tired."
"Bearing up?"
"Barely." She gave him a weak smile. "I've just lost my father, and I get to organise this whole production."
There was a knock on the door. Abbott entered the room with their dinner. She took the serving tray and placed it on her knees. Dempsey did the same with his.
"Lady Harriet, will there be anything else?"
"No, thank you, Abbott. Goodnight" She watched Abbott leave the lounge. "I told him earlier he was off duty." She shook her head. "He keeps going."
Harry turned her attention to the plate of food; examining it with a look of aversion.
"You oughta eat something" Dempsey took a spoonful of the pasta. "It's nice."
"I know." She picked up her spoon and fork and dutifully took a bite. They ate quietly, or rather he ate. Harry moved her food around the plate with her fork. Only eating when he raised an eyebrow at her. She was restless; shifting her position, hands fidgeting. Finally, she put the tray on the floor. Harry reached for the glass on the side table, drinking its content in one swallow.
Dempsey took a sip from his glass studying Harry's pale face.
"You sleep at all?"
"I'm too wound up to sleep. I went for a long walk this morning. That usually calms me down." She shifted her position once again. "I don't know, I can't seem to relax." She waved a hand towards the bottles in her father's bar. "I feel like drinking one of those." Harry saw the doubt expressed on Dempsey's face. "Don't worry, I won't." She grimaced. "I can't attend my father's funeral with a hangover."
"How 'bout I read something to you?" Dempsey stood up to study the titles on the bookshelves.
"What do you want to read to me?"
Dempsey picked a book off the shelf.
"Shakespeare?" He showed her. "That's not gonna sound right, is it?" He made a face.
Harry managed a small chuckle.
"Mark Twain, Adventures of Tom Sawyer." He held up the book. "Huh?"
"Sure." Harry pulled her legs under her, leaning sideways in her chair. Dempsey sat down, putting his feet up on the footstool. He cleared his throat and began to read. Head resting against the backrest, Harry gazed at her partner. It was hard to concentrate on the words. Instead, she basked in the low, soothing sound of his voice. After three chapters he closed the book. She was still fidgeting. According to the clock on the mantelpiece, it was nine o'clock.
"Why don't you take a warm bath or something and then try to get some sleep?"
"Yeah," Harry reached out, holding his hand for a minute. "Thanks." She squeezed his hand, let go, and lifted herself out of the chair.
"No problem. 'Night." He stayed in the lounge for a while. The fire was dying. With a sigh, he stood. Dempsey put the book back on the shelf and went up to his room. After a shower, he settled on the bed in his bathrobe. It was nearly ten, and he wasn't tired yet. The New York Times lay on the nightstand. He hadn't had the chance to read it yet. Scanning the front page, he hoped Harry managed to get some rest.
The soft knock on the door made him look up from the sports section. Dempsey eased off the bed. Hair still damp, Harry stood on his doorstep.
"Hey."
"Hi." She hesitated a moment, before stepping past him.
"Bath didn't help?"
She stood in the middle of the room, rolling back her shoulders to loosen the muscles.
"I just can't settle down." She bounced lightly from one foot to the other. "I don't know. I want to cry, but I can't." Her eyes flew from her hands to the window, to him and back to her hands. "Everything feels tense. And I have no idea how I'll be able to function tomorrow if I don't get some sleep." She paused, rolling back her shoulders again.
"I need help to relax." It was almost inaudible, she'd spoken so softly. As Harry held his gaze, Dempsey realised why she was there.
"Harry..." His voice trailed.
She came to stand in front of him. A tentative hand reached for the tie of his bathrobe. Harry untied the knot, a small frown on her face. Unable to move, Dempsey tried to process what was happening. Harry slid the robe off his shoulders and dropped it on the nearby chair. She untied her robe next. He'd fantasised about this moment for a long time, but Now? Like this? She's burying her father tomorrow! Her bathrobe joined Dempsey's on the chair, leaving her facing him in her underwear.
"Harry?"
She raised her eyes to meet his, then down again to her hands her attention now on his t-shirt. Automatically, he raised his arms as she pulled the t-shirt over his head. Harry lowered her hands, his t-shirt in her right hand. He wasn't sure if it was wise to accommodate her or... Her left hand grazed his back on its way down; it ended up on the waistband of his pants. Or. The soft touch of her hand made him forget about the alternative. He reached up to hold her head in his hands and leaned in to kiss her. Her smell invading his senses, he gently caressed her mouth. Her lips parted to meet him. He tilted his head to press his lips more firmly on hers; deepening the kiss. She had to break away a few times, trying to control her ragged breath coming in irregular gasps. Determined, Harry placed her mouth on his again. Her movement erratic, Dempsey felt restless hands alternatively stroking his back, then firmly gripping his waist. He kept his moves deliberate and calm, allowing her time to manage the tension in her body. His hands travelled down towards the hem of her top, pulling it upwards. The top fell to the floor. Harry's fingers crept underneath the waistband of his pants, pulling them down. Dempsey did the same with her panties. As Harry stepped clear of the garment, he swallowed hard at the view of her naked body. Easy James. A deep breath to constrain his arousal. Harry stepped forward, boldly pressing her slender frame against his. Arms wrapped tightly around his neck, Dempsey registered the resolve in her eyes. She shivered as he enveloped her in his arms to kiss her properly. The light probing and tasting combined with her uneven breath on his lips. He took a step back, felt the bed with his leg. An arm around her waist he lifted her off the floor while his other arm supported their weight as he transferred them unto the bed.
Dempsey didn't want to risk waking the sleeping figure lying curled up against his chest. His left arm was sleeping; he needed to move. Carefully, he shifted his position. His right hand ended up on Harry's bare belly. Deep, regular breathing reassured Dempsey she was still sound asleep. A couple of hours, he'd dozed. Dempsey was wide awake now, appreciating where he was and with whom. Many times, he thought about what it would be like. This was not what he envisioned. Passion and lust were not the words he'd use to describe what happened earlier. Under the circumstances, it wouldn't have been appropriate to engage in a frenzy.
Sex as a relaxation exercise. It had been easier than he imagined to curb his fervour. Harry's body relaxed under his hands. They found a slow, almost lazy rhythm that suited them both. Somehow, this controlled arousal was incredibly intimate. He learned she was an active bed partner. Her hands and lips moved purposefully over his body; assessing his reaction and adjusting her touch accordingly. Despite her control, he never sensed reserve. Afterwards, Harry left the bed to go to the en-suite. Dempsey stared at the ceiling, unsure whether she'd return to the bed or go back to her room. The bed seemed empty without her. When she reappeared, she climbed back onto the bed. The circular motion she made with her finger indicated she wanted to lie with her back against him. On his left side, he opened his arms, creating room for her to cuddle up to him. A glance over her shoulder. Their eyes locked in a gaze that seemed to last forever, but in truth only lasted a few seconds.
I know. An arm around her, he drew her close. Dempsey kissed the soft skin of her shoulder.
Sleep. Within a minute, she did.
There was a clock on the bedside table on Harry's side. He raised his head. Two thirty. Harry moved in her sleep. As she did so, he gathered her tighter into his arms. When he nodded off again, he couldn't help thinking she belonged there.
The water was warm and soothing. Harry bathed her skin, thinking about the day ahead. Her uncle would arrive early that morning. Even though everything was in place. They'd go over the details of the ceremony one last time. There was a specific protocol to these events, but they'd devised a service that fitted Freddie's character. She smiled wistfully. Her father had never been all that bothered about protocol. She also wanted to talk to Abbott to make sure everything else was in order. The water fell on her face like rain. The sensation calmed her. Harry felt better than the days before, and she breathed freely. She was grateful she'd slept well. Then she remembered why. When she left the bed, Dempsey was fast asleep. So much for resolve. Did she regret it? No. There was a brief moment when she thought he might stop her, but he sensed her mood and went with it. Merely focusing on the physicality of what they were doing. She welcomed the touch of his hands. They reminded her of the water that was now finding its way naturally along her body. Warm, flowing, effortless. She'd have to deal with the implications at some point; next time, he'd want a lot more from her.
Next time?
Harry pushed the notion from her mind. There were more pressing matters to deal with. Today, and in the weeks to come. The will, paperwork, her father's personal belongings, the estate. Spikings allowed her a few weeks leave to sort everything out. She closed her eyes. Less stressed, but it made the dull feeling of pain in her heart all the more noticeable. Harry leaned with her forehead against the shower-wall, and for the first time since that fateful phone call, tears came.
Dempsey found Harry in the kitchen. Several members of the staff sat at the large table for breakfast.
"Good morning Mr Dempsey." Mrs Evans, who ran the kitchen, greeted him. Harry was at the kitchen counter about to pour herself another cup of tea. Normally, she wouldn't have breakfast here. Today was not a normal day. Dempsey didn't know what to expect, but she met his gaze directly, passing on the awkwardness.
"Morning." She motioned to a chair. "We're just having breakfast. Help yourself." He sat down next to Mrs Evans, who smiled at him benignly. Not that she understood the strange American, but he was polite enough. Harry filled her teacup, then poured coffee into a mug and put it in front of Dempsey. Harry sat down opposite Mrs Evans to finish the fruit she was eating. Dempsey buttered two pieces of toast.
"So, how many people you expecting today?"
Harry looked at Mrs Evans. "Well, three hundred for the service."
"A few more, I think." Mrs Evans remarked.
"It's going to be a long day." Harry put jam on a piece of toast. Dempsey was glad to see her eating, and that she seemed to have regained her composure. She appeared ready for today.
"Lady Harriet?" Abbott entered the kitchen. "Your uncle has arrived."
"Thank you, Abbott. I'll be right there." Harry finished her tea, then got up to greet her uncle. Lightly touching Dempsey's shoulder as she walked past him.
The day was a big production, as Harry had put it. He met Harry's uncle: William Winfield. A kind man, who resembled his older brother. Dempsey also spoke briefly to Angela and greeted a few other friends of Harry's he'd met before. The service had nice personal touches. It complemented Harry's father. Dempsey spent most of the day with Spikings and Chas, taking in everything from the back. When Harry, her uncle and a few other relatives returned from the family burial ground, the guests had the chance to offer their condolences. There were so many people there, Dempsey didn't get a chance to talk to Harry. When Spikings and Chas announced they were leaving, he decided to go as well. Dempsey managed to make eye contact, and from a distance, he gestured he was leaving. Harry nodded, indicating she'd call.
The next couple of weeks, Dempsey immersed himself in his work; a complicated murder case, together with Watson. Watson was a good detective, but the cooperation wasn't as smooth as it was with Harry. Still, they got lucky. As a result of a useful tip, they managed to make an arrest. There were no new leads in the Hardy case and the Foreign Office hadn't been in touch with Spikings, yet. In the meantime the team watched the docks. The detectives, including Dempsey, took turns doing surveillance. Both Whelan and Hardy showed up, regularly. However, the team had no clue about the exact date of the shipment. He'd driven by her house a few times. The white escort wasn't in the driveway and Harry didn't call. It had been two weeks since the funeral. Chas persuaded him to go to a soccer- football, he corrected himself -match on Saturday. He liked baseball better, but they had a great afternoon with a meal and beer afterwards. The phone rang when he opened the door.
"Yo!"
"Dempsey?"
"Hey. How's it going?"
"I'm busy. There's a lot to sort through. Freddie's solicitor is executing the will. We're going over all the assets to see what needs to be done with them. And then there's Winfield Hall of course."
"You gonna live there now?"
"I don't think so, Dempsey. Freddie actually did a lot of the work for us. He made arrangements for a lot of his assets, including Winfield Hall."
"Oh?"
"I think he knew I wasn't going to live there. Not in the foreseeable future anyway. You have to be there if you want to manage the estate properly. He and my uncle agreed that in the case of Freddie's death, William would move into Winfield Hall. That way I'd have more time to consider my options."
"Sounds like a reasonable solution."
"I think so. Still, it's going to be months before the will is going to be executed, completely."
"So, when will you be back?"
"I'll be here for another week, tying up loose ends. After that, it's work for the solicitor."
"I think I can manage one more week without you."
"It's strange, being here. I keep expecting to hear his voice." She sounded flat, and Dempsey didn't quite know what to say. "I'll be glad to be home again."
"Yeah."
"See you on Monday?"
"You bet… Harry?"
"Mmm?"
"Hang in there, huh?"
"I am."
That week went by a lot quicker than the previous two weeks. The thought of Harry coming back to work was uplifting. Dempsey had to admit he had no idea how she would deal with their night. On job related issues, Harry was very forthright. He knew Harry well enough to know she wouldn't take a direct approach here. Would she even acknowledge it happened? Dempsey decided he would let her take the lead for now; she was still grieving. Sooner or later, he'd take action regardless, because he wanted more, much more.
A ball of energy walked into the SI 10 office on Monday morning. Straight to the coffee counter.
"I feel fine! So fine!" Dempsey belted.
"You mind turning it down a notch, Dempsey?" Spikings barked from his office.
"Sure, boss!" Dempsey hummed. "I feel fine! So fine!" Behind his desk, he put up his feet. "What's with the good mood?" He pointed his thumb at the Chief Superintendent's office.
"Gordon's expecting a call from the Foreign Office." Chas replied.
"Great! We could use a break in that case."
"Makepeace!" Chas stood to greet Harry.
"Morning, Chas." Harry took the Sergeant's hand and allowed him to kiss her on the cheek.
"Glad you're back."
"It's good to be back." Harry dropped her bag on her desk, her eyes on Dempsey. "Good morning."
"Hey." Her gaze was candid. He met it with a smile.
From her bag, she pulled an apple and her lunch. Dempsey poured her a cup of coffee.
"Thanks." She took a sip. "What are we doing today?"
At that moment, the phone rang in Spikings' office.
"Hopefully, the boss is gonna get some useful info from the Foreign Office."
"The Hardy case?"
"Yep. Still no clues about the date of the shipment." Dempsey twirled his pen between his fingers.
"We might make some progress there." Spikings came out of his office. "I just spoke to my contact at the Foreign Office. I want you two to go over there now. Ask for Miles Rutherford. He has information for us." Spikings turned on his heel, back to his office. Halfway, he halted to face Harry.
"Good to have you back, Sergeant."
"Thank you, sir." Spikings nodded gruffly and disappeared into his office.
They went down the stairs of the SI 10 building towards the exit. Harry took a seat behind the wheel of her Escort. Dempsey took the passenger seat. She put the key into the ignition, then leaned back in her seat. Harry suspected Dempsey would confront her about their night. Not now, but at some point. She needed mental stability for that confrontation. The whole thing was too big and Dempsey too fierce. It would be like jumping off an aeroplane without a parachute. The aftermath of her father's death still dominated her life. If he pushed her on their relationship now, she'd have no choice but to push him away. She wanted some sense of control back before she could consider letting go of it again.
"Do you mind if we go on as normal?" Her fingers gripped the wheel. "…For now." Harry added softly. To Dempsey's ear, it sounded like something close to a promise.
"Sure, no problem."
Harry's relief was almost tangible when she turned on the engine of her white Ford and drove out of the car park.
On the way to the government building, Dempsey informed Harry about the progress the team had made on the Hardy case. Harry was grateful for the chit-chat, and by the time they arrived at their destination, she felt at ease sitting next to Dempsey again.
Miles Rutherford was a soft-spoken, grey-haired man, in his forties. He presented Dempsey and Makepeace with a grey folder. It contained information their attaché in Caracas had collected. It turned out, the attaché was diligent and thorough.
"Manuel Jimenez is a very enterprising man. He heads a small but significant drug syndicate in Caracas. He buys his stuff from different producers. Then he ships the various orders out from La Guaira. Jimenez uses a large shipping company." Rutherford checked the folder. "VEZ Cargo shipping services. We think he has men on the inside, working there. When they ship coffee or cocoa, they hide the drugs inside the cargo. He has an extensive network of clients. Both in the United States and in Europe. Very lucrative business, the man is a multi-millionaire."
"What about the shipment that's heading our way?" Dempsey queried.
"Well, our attaché is sure they are working on something. It looks like Jimenez is going to ship in the next couple of weeks."
"It would be useful if we knew when the shipment leaves the harbour, Mr Rutherford." Makepeace said.
"I understand that, Sergeant." Rutherford smiled. "My man in Caracas is keeping an ear to the ground."
"Discretely, I hope."
"He is very discrete, Lieutenant. He's worked in South America for years." Rutherford replied primly. "He is well aware of the dangers of being too nosy over there. As soon as I hear from him, I'll let you know."
"Your guy's done great work." Dempsey took the folder from Rutherford and shook the man's hand. "Thank him for us, if you get a chance."
"I will. Have a good day Lieutenant. Sergeant."
Dempsey and Makepeace left the office.
"Great. Now we're getting somewhere!" Dempsey nudged Harry with the folder.
"Yep, let's report back to the Chief."
More and more pieces of the Hardy case fell into place, and Spikings' mood improved significantly. "Good to know we've got decent people working at the Foreign Office and overseas." Spikings paced the SI 10 office. "Very good to know indeed." He raised a pompous finger at Dempsey. "British thoroughness, Dempsey! Take note of that!"
Dempsey sought Harry's eyes. A mischievous gleam in her eye, she made a writing motion with her hand.
"Take note." She mouthed silently.
"It's a revelation, sir." He said equitably.
"Hmm." Spikings grunted. "We'll stick to monitoring the docks. Be on the look-out for VEZ Cargo shipping. Just in case we don't hear from Rutherford."
"Chief?"
"Dempsey?"
"Any ideas on how we're gonna intercept the shipment?"
"When it's time for action we will be careful, prudent and resolute, Dempsey!" Spikings stated, midway to his office.
"And thorough!" Dempsey stated innocently. Harry suppressed a snort.
"Exactly!" Spikings scowled, standing in the doorway. "Get back to work!"
"Not sure I don't like grumpy Spikings better." Dempsey opened the folder, while Harry sat down on his desk.
"Alright. Jimenez is going to ship a load of cocoa or coffee to London, hiding the cocaine somewhere inside the cargo. Hardy and Whelan will receive the shipment at the docks." She summarised. Her smile had disappeared. There was a frown of concentration on her face as she considered their options.
"If Spikings wants to catch them red-handed, our timing's gotta be perfect." He noted.
Harry nodded in agreement. "Do we intervene the minute the ship arrives, or are we going to let them unload?"
"Depends on how much muscle Hardy's gonna have there. How they wanna unload the ship. How they're gonna move the cargo. A lot of variables there."
She stared at him, incredulously. "Do you want to play it by ear?"
Dempsey laughed at his partner's predisposition to plan ahead.
"Nah, just saying we may have to improvise."
Harry threw her hands up in resignation.
Harry drove home after work. Things were going reasonably well. Dempsey took everything in his stride, and by the end of the day, they'd settled back into their usual routine. She was grateful Dempsey kept his distance, physically. Her head was doing a good job putting their sexual encounter to the side, for the moment. Her body had a mind of its own. Harry walked up the steps to her house. She left her bag on the entry table and stepped into the lounge. Winfield Hall was lovely, but she was glad to be home. Standing in her cosy lounge, she smiled. Her furniture, her books, her piano, her things. This was her place. After she left her ex-husband, she rented an apartment. She married too soon. Had her mother still been alive, she probably wouldn't have hurried into marriage, as young as she did. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty. Her parents enjoyed each others company. They treated each other with love and respect. In her final year at the Police Academy, she realised her own marriage lacked the harmony and equality that characterised her parents' union. Harry moved in with Angela for a while until she found a decent place to rent. After entering the Police force, this house came up for sale. She fell in love with it. With the help of a sizeable bequest her grandfather had left her, she was able to purchase the house. Harry revelled in her new existence. Living the life of a single woman in her new home. Loving the job, she knew she was good at. Enjoying the company of the occasional boyfriend: Tom, Julian…
The small stack of papers on the piano interrupted her thoughts. Her father's solicitor would visit her tonight to go over them. A few more sessions and the paperwork would be done. Next week Harry had to find time to clear out the last of her father's things, at Eaton Square.
"First things first." She mumbled. Something to eat.
By the end of the week, Spikings returned to his usual short-tempered self. Rutherford hadn't called, and Spikings was getting edgy. Heckling the Superintendent became Dempsey's favourite pass-time "Boss? Heard from Rutherford, yet?" In a serious tone. Not too often to make Spikings suspicious. But often enough to be annoying.
"Not yet, Dempsey. Not yet!"
"That Rutherford better call soon, Chief!"
"I know, Dempsey. Patience! Patience!"
"We need some of that British thoroughness, sir!" Dempsey called from behind his desk.
"Dempsey!" Spikings bellowed. "Shut up!"
Harry threw a crumpled paper ball at his head. A grin on his face, Dempsey raised his shoulders. They'd come up with a few ideas on how to handle the situation when the shipment arrived. How they would position themselves at the docks. How many people they'd need. The rest of their time Dempsey had spent helping Watson and Fry, while Harry helped Chas with an administrative task. For once, he was glad they weren't on a case together. It was easier to keep his mind off Harry that way. She walked by his desk for a cup of tea. Even though she was quieter than usual, she was holding up remarkably well, considering everything that had to be dealt with. A little patience was a small price to pay. He watched her walk back to her chair. His eyes lingered on the skirt that hugged her… Dempsey tore away his gaze. The frustration building in his body was affecting his mood. He ruffled his hair. Great. He resigned himself to another cold shower.
"The Santa Teresa left La Guaira, last Wednesday." Spikings announced. "Apparently, there was a communication problem between Venezuela and London. Rutherford called me this morning. There's coffee and corn on board, and Hardy's special order, of course."
"How long's it gonna take for the ship to cross the ocean?" Dempsey calculated in his head. "Fifteen days? Sixteen?"
"Fourteen to eighteen days, depending on the weather before the Santa Teresa reaches London." The Superintendent said. "That leaves us eight to twelve days to prepare."
"Is the ship's position being monitored?" Makepeace asked.
"It is. As the ship gets closer, we'll have a good idea when it's going to reach our shores."
"Whelan has been at the docks a lot, lately. Toby Watts as well." Dave added. "They spend most of their time at the large warehouse near the quay."
Dempsey raised an eyebrow at Harry, a lopsided grin on his face.
"No!" Harry mouthed
Spikings eyed Dempsey.
"Don't get any funny ideas, like trying to break in there, Dempsey. No risks at this point!"
"Whatever you want, Boss." Dempsey acquiesced.
"Perhaps, they'll use the warehouse to store the cargo once they've offloaded it." Spikings mused. "Will they keep everything there? Will they move the drugs somewhere else? We'll need to think about that."
Dempsey observed Harry from the corner of his eye. Stifling a yawn, Harry stared outside. She seemed miles away, a wearied look on her face. Slowly, she rubbed her forehead. With one stroke of her hand, Harry pushed her hair from her face and focused on Spikings again.
Dempsey turned his attention back to Spikings.
"The cargo's gonna be inspected by customs first, right? Good way to get on the ship, maybe?"
"Good idea, Leftenant. I'll contact customs. A man onboard will be handy."
Dempsey spent the afternoon and part of his evening staking out the docks. Spikings wanted round the clock surveillance now. The team took turns doing six-hour shifts. Dempsey started his shift at two. At eight o'clock, Dave tapped on the window of the Mercedes. Dempsey rolled down the window.
"Anything?" Dave asked.
"Nope. Whelan left at five. Nothing else."
"Have a good evening, Dempsey."
"Yeah. Thanks, Dave. You too."
Dempsey drove off. He intended to go home, but somehow he ended up driving into Eaton Square. Through the gated fence, he could see the white Escort parked in front of the large white house. Dempsey parked his car and walked towards the house. For a minute, he dawdled at the gate. His instinct had told him to come here. He was used to listening to it. He stepped towards the door and rang the doorbell. Harry appeared in the entry hall. He lifted his hand in a wave. Briefly, she lingered.
She opened the door. "Hi, what are you doing here?"
"Just finished the stakeout. Thought I'd come and see if you need a hand."
Her blue eyes glistened like she'd been crying. Harry motioned for him to come through. Dempsey followed her into the large lounge. A single lamp lit the room. Plastic protectors covered the furniture. The art and photos had been taken off the wall. An open cardboard box stood on the floor. Harry had been sorting through the papers and books lying next to it.
"Angela gave me a hand over the weekend. I'm almost done here. If you want to help, you can carry a few boxes downstairs for me." She pointed to the left side of the room. "Put them over there. That stuff is intended for Winfield Hall." She motioned toward the right side of the room. "The rest of it is going to stay here. To be sold separately, or together with the house." Harry wiped away a tear.
"You okay?"
"It's been so hectic the past few weeks, just getting things done." She gestured toward the box. "Tonight's been the first chance I had to look at my father's personal things." A few more tears escaped. She blinked them away and wiped her cheeks with the flat of her hands.
"I miss him." She said simply.
Dempsey managed to resist the urge to step over the line Harry had drawn, the week before. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, but he found the willpower to stay put. They would deal with 'them' another time.
"I'll get those boxes downstairs."
Harry sat on the floor leafing through a notebook when Dempsey put down the last box.
"What's that?"
"Travel journals." She closed the book and reached for a photo album. "Photos… more photos." She handed Dempsey a photograph of Lord Winfield.
"Taken on a trip to Asia." Dempsey joined her on the floor, sitting on the other side of the box. "Would you like something to drink?" Harry stood and walked towards one of the window sills.
"Sure."
"I have fruit juice." She took the bottle from the window sill and showed him.
"Juice?"
"Too healthy for you, Dempsey?" She smiled at his look of disgust. She poured two cups. "It's yellow Dempsey, pretend it's beer."
She watched him take a sip and waited for his reaction. Dempsey shook his head at her amused expression.
"I'm gonna suffer in silence, Makepeace."
Laughing Harry reached for the box again.
"Another travel journal. A notebook." She thumbed through it, reading certain passages. Dempsey picked up one of the pictures lying on the floor.
"Harry?"
"Mmm?"
She smiled wistfully at the photo of herself and her father.
"Yeah, it ain't easy. Still, miss my old man, and he's been gone for almost ten years."
"He was sick wasn't he?"
"Yeah, liver cancer. Booze finally caught up with him." He gave Harry a quick glance. "He was a quiet drinker. Drowned his worries in the bottle, instead of talking 'bout it." Dempsey ruffled his hair. "S'pose the stunts me and my brothers pulled didn't help either." He sat still for a minute, then started laughing.
"Real terrors, weren't you?"
"Yep. I ever tell you the mountain climbing story?"
"No." A tentative smile appeared on her face. "Mountain climbing in New York?"
"Yeah. See, me and Mike were at a friend's house once, and we saw this programme on TV about mountain climbing." Dempsey stretched out his legs in front of him, settling into his story. "I think Mike was nine. I was eight or something. Anyway, it looked amazing to us." He got a faraway look in his eye. "Dangerous, adventurous."
Harry chuckled over the rim of her cup. "I bet."
"So we thought we'd try to become mountain climbers too."
"Mmm."
"We got all the material together. Rope 'n stuff, even found some carabiners somewhere. Made a harness and everything. Then we needed a guinea pig."
Harry leered at Dempsey.
"Don't tell me. Your younger brother?"
"Yep."
"How old was he?"
"Three. We were living in this apartment building at the time. So, we hoisted him in the harness, and lowered him down the balcony."
"No! How high?"
"Third floor." Dempsey was laughing out loud now.
"Oh, my God!"
"One of the downstairs neighbours ran upstairs to my mother, cause she saw Adam dangling in front of her window, smiling and waving at her."
He loved the way Harry's face transformed as she gave in to spontaneous, uninhibited laughter. He sat transfixed for a moment admiring how beautiful she was, before resuming his story.
"My father nearly busted his gut, when he heard. We couldn't sit down for a week." He threw his hand in the air. "That was the end of our mountain climbing careers."
The evening flew by. Harry studying pictures. Dempsey sharing his anecdotes. Harry laughing at his expression of disgust as he drank his juice. The whole thing was therapeutic. Her heart felt lighter than it had in weeks. Being inside, they had no idea of the weather outside. For once Harry was grateful for the rain and cold. A fierce wind disturbed their companionable gathering when she opened the front door. It made their goodbye on the doorstep quick and less awkward than it could have been. Dempsey muttered a few expletives about London weather, pulled up his collar and headed back to his car.
The closer the ship came to London, the more excited the atmosphere became at the station. There was a definite increase in activity at the docks. And sure enough, after fifteen days at sea:
"The Santa Teresa should arrive sometime tomorrow." Spikings announced to the team. "Someone from the Thames Division is positioned downriver to warn us when the ship passes." He pointed at Dempsey. "Dempsey will join a team of customs officers who will inspect and asses the cargo." He leaned over the detailed map of the docks. "The rest of the team will take up their positions, the way we agreed." His index finger flew over the map, indicating the different places. "Make sure you get a good night's sleep people. It's on, tomorrow!"
Dempsey leaned back. He hadn't looked at the map. Every detail of the dock was in his head. Sighing, he shifted in his chair. They'd worked towards this for weeks with plenty of time to think and plan. He didn't like having too much time before an intervention. It interfered with the instinctive way he worked. It was easier to adapt to changing circumstances with an empty mind, clear senses and no preconceived ideas in his head. He fiddled with his pen, clicked it then put it down again.
"I really don't think we've overanalysed this, Dempsey." Harry zipped up her coat, eyeing him carefully. Dempsey thought about what she said and nodded. She smiled back at him and shouldered her bag.
"See you tomorrow."
The Santa Teresa was moored at the docks. A small freighter, she still managed to look large. The team waited in a large van parked some distance away from the dock. Dempsey had arrived earlier in his Mercedes. He'd joined the customs officers. The mood was one of quiet anticipation, as the members prepared for what lay ahead. They retied shoelaces and checked guns. The map of the docks passed between the team members. Chas was positioned outside near the pier. He had a clear view of the Santa Teresa.
"Goldfish 5 to Charlie 3, come in please."
"Charlie 3 to Goldfish 5, what's going on, Chas?" Spikings spoke in the handset.
"Dempsey has boarded the ship about half an hour ago, over."
"Copy that, Chas."
"Watts just parked his car. He's walking towards warehouse five now."
"Hardy?"
"No sign of him yet, Guv."
"Thanks, Chas. Over and out." Spikings put the radio to the side. Whelan was already at the docks. He'd disappeared into warehouse five, a couple of hours before. The man hadn't been seen, since.
Wearing jeans and a warm jumper, Harry sat in her seat. Supple leather gloves lay in her lap for later. Occasionally, she stretched her legs and rolled her shoulders to loosen her muscles. Her heart was beating a little faster than normal, but her mind was clear. She felt calm. Covertly, Harry observed each member of the team. How did they look? Were they fit for action? A habit she'd picked up from Dempsey.
"If a member of the team ain't ready, it can be fatal, Harry. Spot weaknesses. Know who you can count on." The team was ready. Harry turned her focus inward again.
The door of the van opened. Dempsey stepped in.
"Customs didn't find any irregularities. They're cleared for offloading. Gonna start in about half an hour." He took off the customs jacket and grabbed his coat off one of the seats. "Twelve crew, coffee and corn in large burlap bags, stacked on pallets. All bags are numbered. Nothing out of the ordinary on the ship."
"No doubt, Hardy and Whelan know the crucial bag numbers." Spikings said, stroking his head.
"Goldfish 5 to Charlie 3, come in"
Spikings grabbed the radio. "Go ahead, Chas."
"They're starting up the crane. I can see… three forklift trucks, over."
"Anything else?"
"No Guv." Chas was quiet for a moment. "Guv? Hardy's driving into the parking lot. He's got two men with him, over."
"Right." Spikings motioned with his head. "Get out of here."
The team stood.
Dave and Watson left the van first, followed by Dempsey, Harry, and the others. Fanning out, each pair moved into position. Dave and Watson disappeared behind a waste container on the far left. Dempsey and Harry knelt behind the four feet high concrete wall that encircled the parking lot. Harry couldn't see anyone on her right. Everyone was in place. Dempsey and Makepeace had a clear view of the quay. They couldn't be seen from the road and the parking lot.
"Goldfish 9 in position, over." Dempsey pocketed the RT, then glanced over the wall. "They're not wasting any time are they?" The crane hoisted the first pallets onto the quay. Whelan was busy opening the roller shutters of the large warehouse. The forklift trucks lifted the first batch of pallets, supervised by Watts. Flanked by two large men, Watts pointed out where the pallets were supposed to go. Unloading was swift and methodical.
"Dempsey." Harry pushed his shoulder. Dempsey followed her gaze. A small truck drove past the parking lot. Fleetwood Shipping it read on the side. The truck headed towards the large warehouse on the quay.
"They really are moving fast." Harry pulled the RT from Dempsey's pocket.
"Goldfish 9 to Charlie 3 come in, over."
"I saw it, Harry." Spikings reacted. "They're going to move the stuff somewhere else."
"What's the plan, sir?"
"We'll follow the loaded truck. We'll have fewer people to deal with." Spikings ordered.
The truck backed into the single loading dock on the side of the warehouse. Spikings called Dave and Watson, as well as Fry and Chas, back to the police van. The two pairs that wouldn't be able to return to the van unseen. Dempsey turned his attention back to the quay. The crane was now hoisting the last pallets off the Santa Teresa. The forklifts stacked them in the warehouse. Watts briefly spoke to the men who worked the crane and forklifts, handing them what looked like a wad of cash. Dempsey and Makepeace ducked down when the men walked in their direction. The men drove off in a dented blue sedan.
"Harry." Dempsey pointed.
The driver of the truck climbed into the cabin and drove the truck forward, a few yards. Watts and his two men walked up to Whelan, who was jumping off the loading dock leveller. After a short discussion, Watts' two men climbed into the back of the truck. Whelan closed the heavy doors of the truck.
"Goldfish 9 to Charlie 3, come in."
"Harry?"
"They're driving off." Harry handed the RT back to Dempsey.
Whelan and Watts both climbed into the truck. Slowly, it drove away from the warehouse.
"Charlie 3, we're taking my car, over." Harry nodded her agreement.
They waited until the truck turned onto the road before dashing towards the Mercedes. Dempsey put the Mercedes into gear and accelerated to catch up to the police van already in pursuit of the truck.
The truck headed east, followed by the police van. Dempsey trailed behind de van. He drove quietly, in thought. They made a left at a traffic light. They were now driving north. Dempsey felt increasingly uneasy. He glanced sideways. Harry's eyes already on him. Dempsey stared at the road for a few seconds, before looking at Harry again.
"What?" There was a hint of urgency in his voice.
"I don't know..." She hesitated. "Just..." She glanced over her shoulder.
"Yeah." Dempsey did a few more to and fro looks between the road and Harry. "I know." He scanned the road ahead and behind and pulled at the wheel. Harry held on to the grab handle as the Mercedes did a one-eighty. Dempsey floored it, back to the docks. Harry tried the RT, but they were already out of range.
"Call the station, maybe they can reach Spikings." Dempsey said, pushing down the accelerator.
Dempsey parked the car as close to the docks as he dared.
"So, what do we do?"
"We're just gonna check. Then we'll decide." Dempsey stepped out of the car. Harry followed suit. They sneaked back to the concrete wall.
"I knew it." Dempsey peeked over the wall. "That truck was a decoy. They knew we were here."
"Two trucks?" Harry looked puzzled. "There's Hardy now. Look."
They took in the scene before them. Two small trucks were parked in front of the entrance of the large warehouse. Hardy, his two guards and the two drivers were the only people at the dock. One of the drivers resembled:
"Paul Hardy?"
Harry nodded. "Looks like him." He'd driven one of the trucks. The driver of the second truck was loading up both trucks using one of the forklifts.
Dempsey and Makepeace turned and slid down to the ground with their backs against the wall
"We need a plan." Harry said. "They're going to drive away with two trucks. We'll have to make a choice. Which one do we follow?"
"Either that or it's five against two."
"Well, they don't know we're here."
"You up for it, Makepeace?"
"Life is hard, Dempsey." She took out her gun. Dempsey gave her a lopsided grin, the Magnum already in his hand.
"You wanna go from the front? Or you wanna try to get in from the side?"
"The loading dock's still open."
"Let's go." Dempsey got to his feet. He walked the length of the wall, staying low for cover, Harry right behind him. At the end of the wall they halted, waiting for the right moment to make a run for the large waste container to the left.
"Go!"
They walked up to the loading dock and climbed onto the dock leveller. The stacked pallets hid them from view. Harry crossed over to the other side of the warehouse. Finding cover behind the pallets, they made their way to the front until they were so close they could hear the men talking.
"That's the last one Pete." Hardy pointed. The man lifted the pallets and steered the forklift to the truck on the left. Dempsey saw Hardy, Mike and the other guard who accompanied Hardy. Pete, the driver, climbed out of the forklift. Paul Hardy was closing the doors on both trucks.
"Cover me." Dempsey mouthed. Harry changed her position to get a clear view. She adjusted the grip of her gloved hand on her gun. Dempsey stepped forward, gun drawn.
"Freeze! Police. You're surrounded." He bluffed. Several things happened at the same time. Pete turned and ran out of the warehouse towards his truck. Steven Hardy swore, his two guards spread out, ducking for cover. Paul Hardy pulled a gun from his back pocket. The engine of one of the trucks rumbled to life. The motor screeched as Pete drove away, fleeing the scene.
"Drop it, Paul." Dempsey roared. Paul had no intention of dropping the gun. A shot rang out. Dempsey dove behind a large pillar. Harry was ready to shoot. Dempsey beat her to it. She relaxed her finger on the trigger.
"No! Bastard!" Steven Hardy called out. His son lay on the floor; dead. Harry stepped to the right, to get a better position. Hardy hid behind a pillar. She could see Dempsey hiding behind another.
"It's over Hardy! Give it up!" Dempsey bellowed.
"The other cops all left. This guy's on his own, sir."
Mike, Dempsey thought.
"We can take him."
Dempsey gestured. Stay where you are.
"Cliff?!" Mike called.
"Ready!" Cliff responded.
Feet moved. Mike and Cliff. Dempsey glanced over his shoulder. No Makepeace. His gun close to his right shoulder, he listened hard, to place the sounds surrounding him. Mike and Cliff were close, he felt them. Coming at him from two sides.
Where are ya, Harry? He had to move, now. Pick a side. His muscles flexed for action. One, two… That instant, two shots were fired. Dempsey heard Mike and Cliff grunt. Then nothing. He turned to the direction the shots came from. Harry climbed down a stack of piled burlap bags. She jumped to the ground. Carefully, she approached Mike's body lying still on the floor.
"Check the other one."
Dempsey checked Cliff's body for a pulse. The man was dead.
Tinker Bell. These guys were almost twice her size. To have a chance, they'd have to hear her coming first. He grinned, he hadn't.