Free The Borgia Ring by Michael White

leaves and small red flowers, a plant that would be easy to overlook. The other had broad leaves with pale green veins spreading seemingly at random on their upper surface. The stubby plant rose from a large bulb only half-submerged in soil.
    He opened the metal case. It was empty. Taking a pair of cutters from his pocket, he severed the first plant at its base and lowered it into the box, folding its leaves to fit it in.Stopping at the second plant, he cut through its stems and likewise folded them into the box. Closing the case’s lid, he clipped it shut.
    At the door, he listened for voices outside. Then he eased it open and slipped out into the corridor and down the stairwell. Walking casually past the desk at the entrance to the building, he emerged into the hot night and the glare of headlights on Mile End Road.

Stepney, Sunday 5 June, 6.20 a.m.
    ‘You look pleased with yourself,’ commented Jack Pendragon who had just returned to his desk with a large cup of his favourite Bolivian coffee, black, no sugar.
    ‘That’s because I am,’ Jez Turner replied, striding towards him while eyeing the cup. ‘The CCTV disks arrived at two this morning. I couldn’t resist.’
    ‘Help yourself then,’ Pendragon responded, nodding towards the cafetière.
    ‘Cheers, guv.’
    ‘So what have you found?’
    ‘Best see for yourself, sir.’
    The media room was three doors down the corridor. It was stuffed with electronic equipment: two large flat-screen monitors, a video mixing desk, and a wall of metal units comprising DVD players, hard drives and digital enhancers. Turner sat at the control panel and Pendragon leaned towards the monitors, letting his young sergeant deal with the technology.
    ‘As you’d expect, there’re a few cameras on Mile End Road. Working on the principle that our man would have disabled the cameras at the site almost as soon as he got there, I went back over the footage from all the CCTV in the area between one-forty-five and two-fifteen.’ As he talked,Turner flicked through the seven separate camera positions along Mile End Road, Globe Road and White Horse Lane, the three major roads within a few hundred metres of the construction site.
    Cars passed in and out of the area, picked up in one camera to be followed in one or more of the others, before vanishing again out-of-frame. A white van could be seen on five separate cameras as it travelled up White Horse Lane, left into Mile End Road and then next right into Globe Road. It disappeared into the night north of the monitored zone. What they really wanted was someone to approach Alderney Road, a turning off Globe Road. Then for that someone to take a right into a small side street that wound round to Frimley Way. There were no cameras on Alderney Road or Frimley Way, but they could see that anyone turning off Globe Road would just be visible from a camera set close to the Fox’s Head pub, twenty or so metres from the junction.
    Turner ran his fingers over the video mixing desk and fast-forwarded the images from a set of cameras. They watched as the time display sped by. A red car flashed past, followed a few moments later by a taxi. A pedestrian appeared at the edge of the image and walked briskly towards the deserted pub and out of sight.
    At 2.07.14 on the digital timer, a solitary figure in dark trousers and an open-necked shirt appeared in the first camera on White Horse Lane. He walked quickly towards Mile End Road. Turner switched cameras as the figure reached the main road and turned left. He switched again and they could see the figure approaching the camera, crossing the street and turning into Globe Road. Shifting to the camera at the Fox’s Head, the two policemen now had their sharpest view of the figure so far. As it approached thepub, it happened to look around and then slightly upward, scanning the road ahead.
    Turner stabbed the pause button. ‘Anyone you know?’ he asked and glanced up at his boss.
    ‘Can you get that image