‘Fine. But travel light. And don’t worry, I’ve cased the joint and have a cunning plan.’ Simon smiled and tapped his nose.
‘Okay.’ She gave a weak laugh and walked up the stairs. When Simon heard the bathroom door lock, he went into the study and opened the drawer he’d seen Zoe close earlier. He sifted through its contents as quickly as he could. Finding the invoice that Zoe had been so engrossed in, he folded it up and stuck it in his suit pocket. Sliding the drawer shut, Simon left the room and headed up the stairs.
They met in the tiny rear courtyard ten minutes later. Simon suppressed a smile at the outfit Zoe had chosen: black jeans, black turtleneck jumper and a bucket hat pulled down low over her blonde head.
‘Okay. I’m going to give you a leg-up over that wall,’ he said. ‘There’s a ledge about four feet down on the other side that you can step onto. Then we go over the next wall, and then the next. The antique furniture shop four doors down has a back door. We break in if we have to, find our way onto the shop floor and walk out the other side as if we’re customers.’
‘Won’t the back door be alarmed?’
‘Bound to be, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Right. Let’s go.’
Slowly, they made their way over the walls separating the back of each building along the street. Simon was glad that Zoe was young and fit, and with his help, they made short work of the six-foot walls. Finally, they stood in front of a grilled rear door. A small red light was flashing above it.
‘Damn.’ Simon inspected the door. ‘It’s deadlocked from the inside.’ He walked to the small window next to it, which also had a grille over it. Taking a pair of wire cutters from his pocket, Simon worked away until the bottom part of the grille broke free, revealing an old sash window. There was a gap of half an inch between the window and the frame.
‘I don’t know whether this window is alarmed, so get ready to leg it back over the wall if I set it off,’ he warned her.
Zoe stood in an agony of suspense as Simon turned red from exertion. Finally, the window gave a small groan of assent and slid up. The alarm did not go off.
Simon tutted and beckoned her over. ‘People really should be more careful. No wonder there are so many burglaries. Hop in.’ He indicated Zoe should squeeze through the one-and-a-half-foot gap and open it wider from the inside to let him through. Sixty seconds later, both she and Simon were standing on the other side in a storeroom full of old, elegant chairs and mahogany tables.
‘Sunglasses on,’ he ordered.
Zoe pulled a pair of huge black sunglasses out of her pocket and put them on.
‘How do I look?’ she asked with a grin.
‘Like an adorable ninja ant,’ he whispered. ‘Now, follow me.’
He led her through the storeroom and quietly opened the door at the other end. Checking beyond it, he beckoned her to him and indicated a flight of stairs beyond the door.
‘Okay, this must take us up into the showroom,’ he whispered. ‘Nearly there now.’
Simon mounted the stairs with Zoe behind him. He turned the handle of the door at the top and peeped inside. He nodded to her, opened it further and crept through it, signalling for Zoe to do the same. Once inside, Simon headed for a long, ornate chaise longue in the deserted showroom and Zoe followed him. Eventually, an ageing man appeared from another door around the corner.
‘My apologies, sir, I didn’t hear the front bell ring.’
‘Not to worry. Er, my wife and I were interested in this. Can you tell me a little bit about it?’
Five minutes later, after promising to come back with their sitting-room measurements, Zoe and Simon stepped into the bright sunshine of an unusually spring-like February day.
‘Don’t look behind you, Zoe, just keep walking,’ Simon muttered as he marched swiftly towards his car, parked a few yards up the street.
Once inside the Jaguar, Simon indicated into the flow of traffic, heading towards Soho and the recording studio. Zoe turned back and saw the media huddle still outside her front door less than fifty yards away. Just as they turned the corner, she stuck two fingers up at them.
‘Do you know, I really enjoyed that,’ she giggled. ‘And the thought that all those vultures are now sat waiting outside a deserted house has cheered me up no end.’ She reached for his hand, resting on the gearstick, and squeezed it. ‘Thanks, Simon.’
Zoe’s light touch played havoc with his concentration. ‘We aim to please, madam. But don’t be lulled into a false sense of security. Sooner or later, someone’ll twig you’re no longer at home.’
‘I know, but let’s just hope it’s not before tonight.’
Simon dropped her off on Dean Street in front of the recording studio, then phoned in on his mobile.
‘Sorry to ring earlier than usual, sir, but it might be hard to do so later.’
‘Understood.’
‘I’ve found something. It may be nothing, but . . .’ He read out the details on the invoice he had retrieved from the drawer in the desk.
