Dangerous Games by Sally Spencer Page B

himself.’
    â€˜But suppose he does give way to the temptation,’ the watchman argued. ‘I could be in danger.’
    â€˜If we thought there was any danger, we wouldn’t entrust the security of the place to an old feller like you,’ the site manager had said, exasperatedly.
    â€˜Thanks for the vote of confidence,’ Turner said.
    And he was thinking: I may be old, but I reckon I could still drop you if I had to, you thin streak of piss an’ wind.
    â€˜You’re still looking worried,’ the site manager had said, mistaking anger for fear. ‘For God’s sake, Harry, nobody’s going to put you in hospital for a couple of pipes or a few yards of copper wiring, now are they?’
    And so it was that Turner was dog-less and alone when he discovered the breech in the chain-link fence that surrounded the site.
    It was perfectly obvious what had happened, Harry Turner thought, as he examined the breech in the light of his torch. Some bastard had taken a pair of wire cutters, sliced his way through the chain link, and then peeled back a flap so he could get access. And now he was somewhere on the site, in any one of the dozen or so places he could have chosen to hide.
    There should be searchlights I could switch on, Harry Turner thought.
    But there were no lights, just as there was no dog.
    He was not afraid, he told himself, but it would probably wise to be a little
cautious
.
    He turned away from the fence, to face the site.
    â€˜The police have been called!’ he bawled out in that same loud voice that had sung a thousand dirty rugby songs. ‘There’s no gettin’ away, an’ if you give yourself up now, they’ll probably go easy on you.’
    He heard a single foot-fall from somewhere to his left, and was just about to turn again when his head suddenly seemed to explode. And then everything went black.
    Rutter had finally arrived at the Drum and Monkey. He was looking somewhat flustered, but also a little triumphant.
    â€˜One of the nannies who I was supposed to be interviewing couldn’t make it this afternoon,’ he explained.
    â€˜Well, that
is
a promisin’ start,’ Woodend said dourly.
    â€˜It wasn’t her fault,’ Rutter said, completely missing the warning signal. ‘Apparently, there was some kind of domestic crisis in the place where she’s currently employed. And since – on paper at least – she looked the best of the bunch, I thought I’d better allow a little leeway.’
    â€˜Very good of you, I’m sure,’ Woodend said. ‘An’ since we seem to be discussin’ leeway, is there any reason you couldn’t have phoned to tell us you were goin’ to be late?’
    â€˜I did make a call to the station, but you’d already left, sir,’ Rutter said defensively.
    â€˜This pub has a phone,’ Woodend pointed out. ‘We’ve all used it, often enough.’
    â€˜I didn’t want to disturb you here, especially since I knew that within half an hour or so …’ Rutter trailed off. ‘You’re quite right, sir,’ he continued. ‘I could have phoned, and I’m sorry I didn’t.’
    His problem was that Bob was feeling very guilty about the way he’d behaved towards his daughter, Woodend thought. For quite a while after Maria’s death, he’d not believed he was able to take care of Louisa at all, and the grandparents had been forced to bear the burden. And now he finally felt he could handle it, he was trying to compensate for that earlier neglect by giving her his total commitment.
    â€˜Did you hire a nanny in the end?’ Paniatowski asked.
    â€˜Yes, I did,’ Rutter told her. ‘I actually hired the one who I interviewed last – the one who made me late. I think she’s going to be really excellent.’
    â€˜Well, that’s all right then,’ Woodend said – though his tone made it clear