‘I know the Nicéphore test is intricate takes a bit of time and that’s why it’s so expensive but was it ever worth it,’ said Stuart.
Love had turned his head back to face the front. Finally the long stream of traffic was moving. The transport of London was once again on the move like a boa constrictor swiftly going after its prey.
He sped along the remainder of Parry Street turned right down Wandsworth Road and into the Embankment. As he approached the entrance to MI6, Love pressed his remote and the steel gate swiftly slid open. He cruised round to the back of the building pulling up in front of the wrought iron gate. The two men each swiped their ID, brief pause, the gate slid open and he drove through and into an allocated space in the private underground car park, pushed the gearstick into neutral, pulled on the handbrake, turned off the ignition and sat back resting his head on the seat’s headrest.
‘What are we getting into here, Stuart?’
Stuart tapped his phone on his knee. ‘We shouldn’t be surprised. Not in our game. But Carol Butterfield?’
Love turned his head to look at his partner. ‘Something more than we bargained for.’ He unsnapped his seat belt and eased his bulk from the car. Stuart was already out of his seat. Love looked at him over the roof of the Volvo. ‘The million dollar question is - who did she practise this with.’
The two detectives strode along past the various parked cars. BMWs. Fords. Jaguars. Skodas. An eclectic mix. Some private. Some belonging to the Branch. They took the short flight of stairs leading to ground floor alongside of which was installed a ramp for the operatives who got about on two wheels, and moments later were striding into the building where they each flashed their ID before walking over to the lifts.
‘I hate to say this,’ Love said as they stepped into the lift. The doors closed. The lift moved silently and efficiently. ‘But I think it’s time we had our friend Mr Butterfield pay us that visit sooner rather than later.’
‘To question him about this possible sadism link?’ Stuart asked.
‘Sounds freaky doesn’t it, but do you have a better idea?’
Stuart dug his hands deep into the pockets of his cashmere overcoat. ‘At this moment in time, Love, I can’t wait to ask.’