The Messiah Secret - James Becker [37]
He heard an irritated muttering from outside and suppressed a grin. Even the first-floor window catches weren’t that loose. Then a louder noise, a click, as the catch finally gave way, and moments later the unmistakable sound of a sash window sliding upwards.
Bronson kept behind the substantial curtain that framed the window, as the man climbed into the bedroom, an empty nylon bag clutched in his hand, then crept slowly across the bedroom towards the door. Bronson waited until he was about halfway there, then crossed the room in half a dozen swift strides.
As he approached, the man half-turned towards him, a look of sheer panic on his face.
Bronson grabbed his right arm, forcing his hand behind his back and up towards his shoulder.
‘I know it’s a cliché,’ Bronson said, ‘but you’re nicked, my son. I’m a police officer and I’m arresting you on suspicion of breaking and entering and burglary.’
Grasping the struggling man by the shoulder Bronson held him firmly, he snapped the handcuff on to his right wrist, then grabbed his left arm and repeated the process, securing his hands behind his back.
‘We’re going to go downstairs,’ he said, ‘and I’ll explain what’s going to happen.’
Once downstairs, Bronson pushed his captive into one of the kitchen chairs. ‘Now, I’m required to caution you, so please listen carefully. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something that you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand the words of the caution?’
‘Just let me go, you bastard.’
‘I’ll take that as a “yes”, shall I?’
‘I’m not saying another word. I want my solicitor, and I want him now.’
‘Fine,’ Bronson said. ‘That’s entirely within your rights. I’m not going to question you – that will be done under caution at the police station – but I am going to search you to see if you’re carrying any offensive weapons. Are you carrying anything that might injure me?’
‘Go to hell!’
Bronson jerked the man to his feet and checked his pockets, pulling out a small wallet and placing it on the kitchen table.
Then he pushed the man back into the chair, sat down opposite him, and opened the wallet he’d found. Almost the first thing he pulled out was a driver’s licence. Bronson looked at the name on it and smiled.
‘Well, Jonathan,’ he said, ‘Carfax is a name I certainly recognize, so I assume this burglary is more personal than professional. I presume the old man cut you out of his will, so you’re bypassing the legal process and taking what you believe you’re owed.’
His captive didn’t respond.
‘But it doesn’t actually matter why you did it – it’s still burglary,’ Bronson said. Then he shrugged, reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile phone. He glanced at his watch. It was almost eleven o’clock, so he thought he’d tell Angela that his mission had succeeded, then he’d call the local police.
‘Hi, it’s me,’ he said, when Angela answered her phone. ‘Just thought you’d like to know I’m sitting in the kitchen looking at your burglar.’
‘Really? Is he – I mean, was there any trouble? Do you want me to call the police?’ Angela asked.
‘No, thanks. I know the form. I’ll have to go to the local police station with him to make a statement and stuff, so I won’t get to the pub for quite a while, but I’ll call you once I’m at the cop shop to let you know how long I’ll be.’
‘OK.’ There was a pause. When she spoke again, Angela sounded uncharacteristically nervous. ‘Will you come up to my room when you get here? I want you to tell me everything that’s happened.’
Bronson smiled. ‘It’s a deal. I’ll see you later.’
But Jonathan Carfax was not looking nearly so happy. ‘This is