connected to the camera but there was more than enough space on the hard drive to store ten hours of video. They had filmed the couple walking towards Mr Hetherington’s Bentley soft-top, and caught a very incriminating hug and kiss before she went over to her white VW Golf. For a moment Nightingale thought they had been wasting their time but then the VW drove off and Mr Hetherington had followed in his Bentley.
McKay had kept a decent distance between the bike and the car, closing the gap only when they got close to traffic lights. The girl kept the VW at just under the speed limit and Mr Hetherington stuck close to her. They drove to a Spanish restaurant in Muswell Hill and parked outside. Nightingale got more video of the two kissing and hugging before they went inside, arm in arm. McKay drove down a side street where Nightingale stripped off his leathers and helmet before heading into the restaurant. There was a bar to the right and a dozen tables with red tablecloths and candles in old Rioja bottles. Nightingale sat at the bar and ordered a Corona and some tapas – anchovies in vinegar and oil, chorizo in hard cider and patatas bravas.
Mr Hetherington was sitting at a corner table, splitting his time between sipping red wine and kissing his PA on the lips as they waited for their food to arrive. Nightingale was alone at the bar and he managed to record several minutes of video on his smartphone. The loving couple shared a large dish of paella and then took it in turns to feed each other crema catalana. Nightingale managed to video the dessert sharing and when their coffees arrived he paid his bill and went outside to join McKay.
He was back on his bike in his leathers and with his helmet on when Mr Hetherington and his PA emerged arm-in-arm from the restaurant. Nightingale snatched more video of the two kissing on the pavement before getting into their respective vehicles. Again the VW led the way, this time to a terraced house a short distance from Alexandra Palace. Mr Hetherington parked his Bentley first but it took his companion several attempts before she managed to squeeze in between a black cab and a people carrier. Nightingale and McKay watched from a side street as Mr Hetherington made fun of the woman’s attempts to parallel park, and Nightingale managed to get footage of them kissing in the road and walking together to the front door of the woman’s house where they kissed again before she took her keys out of her bag and let them in.
The lights had gone on downstairs, and then the light had gone on in the upstairs bedroom. McKay had driven slowly by the house and as luck would have it the woman was drawing the curtains just as the bike was level with the house. Nightingale was fairly sure he’d managed a shot of the woman in the window with Mr Hetherington standing behind her, cupping her breasts.
They had parked up in a side street and Nightingale had videoed Mr Hetherington leaving the house at one o’clock in the morning. They hadn’t bothered following him home as Nightingale had all the footage he needed.
Nightingale let himself into his flat, had a quick shower and fell into bed. He was woken up eight hours later by his mobile ringing on the bedside table. He groped for it. ‘Yeah?’
‘Are you coming in today?’ It was Jenny.
Nightingale groaned. ‘What time is it?’
‘Ten. I wasn’t sure if you were coming in or going straight to the Goth interviews.’
‘The latter,’ he said, sitting up and running his hand through his hair.
‘You’re in bed, aren’t you?’
‘Please don’t tell me that you’ve got CCTV rigged up in my bedroom.’
‘You sound like you’ve just woken up.’
‘Guilty as charged. But on a more positive note we have Mr Hetherington bang to rights. Loads of video of them canoodling and him going into her house with her and leaving in the small hours.’
‘Brilliant, Mrs Hetherington will be thrilled. When can I have it?’
Nightingale swung his
McKay had kept a decent distance between the bike and the car, closing the gap only when they got close to traffic lights. The girl kept the VW at just under the speed limit and Mr Hetherington stuck close to her. They drove to a Spanish restaurant in Muswell Hill and parked outside. Nightingale got more video of the two kissing and hugging before they went inside, arm in arm. McKay drove down a side street where Nightingale stripped off his leathers and helmet before heading into the restaurant. There was a bar to the right and a dozen tables with red tablecloths and candles in old Rioja bottles. Nightingale sat at the bar and ordered a Corona and some tapas – anchovies in vinegar and oil, chorizo in hard cider and patatas bravas.
Mr Hetherington was sitting at a corner table, splitting his time between sipping red wine and kissing his PA on the lips as they waited for their food to arrive. Nightingale was alone at the bar and he managed to record several minutes of video on his smartphone. The loving couple shared a large dish of paella and then took it in turns to feed each other crema catalana. Nightingale managed to video the dessert sharing and when their coffees arrived he paid his bill and went outside to join McKay.
He was back on his bike in his leathers and with his helmet on when Mr Hetherington and his PA emerged arm-in-arm from the restaurant. Nightingale snatched more video of the two kissing on the pavement before getting into their respective vehicles. Again the VW led the way, this time to a terraced house a short distance from Alexandra Palace. Mr Hetherington parked his Bentley first but it took his companion several attempts before she managed to squeeze in between a black cab and a people carrier. Nightingale and McKay watched from a side street as Mr Hetherington made fun of the woman’s attempts to parallel park, and Nightingale managed to get footage of them kissing in the road and walking together to the front door of the woman’s house where they kissed again before she took her keys out of her bag and let them in.
The lights had gone on downstairs, and then the light had gone on in the upstairs bedroom. McKay had driven slowly by the house and as luck would have it the woman was drawing the curtains just as the bike was level with the house. Nightingale was fairly sure he’d managed a shot of the woman in the window with Mr Hetherington standing behind her, cupping her breasts.
They had parked up in a side street and Nightingale had videoed Mr Hetherington leaving the house at one o’clock in the morning. They hadn’t bothered following him home as Nightingale had all the footage he needed.
Nightingale let himself into his flat, had a quick shower and fell into bed. He was woken up eight hours later by his mobile ringing on the bedside table. He groped for it. ‘Yeah?’
‘Are you coming in today?’ It was Jenny.
Nightingale groaned. ‘What time is it?’
‘Ten. I wasn’t sure if you were coming in or going straight to the Goth interviews.’
‘The latter,’ he said, sitting up and running his hand through his hair.
‘You’re in bed, aren’t you?’
‘Please don’t tell me that you’ve got CCTV rigged up in my bedroom.’
‘You sound like you’ve just woken up.’
‘Guilty as charged. But on a more positive note we have Mr Hetherington bang to rights. Loads of video of them canoodling and him going into her house with her and leaving in the small hours.’
‘Brilliant, Mrs Hetherington will be thrilled. When can I have it?’
Nightingale swung his
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