Free The Summons by Peter Lovesey

you.”
    “Come on, man, you were in the police,” said Warrilow abrasively. “We’re a professional force, not the Boy Scouts. Mountjoy is an escaped convict, a lifer with a record of violence. Our job is to recapture him. We can’t let this opportunity pass.”
    “And if you do pick him up, what happens to Mr. Tott’s daughter?”
    “He’ll tell us where she is.”
    “That’s your assessment, is it?”
    “He’s no idiot. He’s an educated man. He’ll know when the game is up.”
    Diamond glanced at the others, practically inviting them to support Warrilow’s line of reasoning. They were silent. Speaking in a flat tone that let the story supply its own force, he said, “There was a stickup artist a few years back who did post offices in the Midlands and murdered three sub-postmasters. They called him the Black Panther because of the hood he wore. Remember?”
    Warrilow gave a grudging nod. The case had been notorious and was frequently quoted on training courses, but no one was going to stop Diamond from pointing out its relevance.
    “He got more ambitious. Kidnapped a teen-age girl from a well-off family in Kidderminster and demanded a ransom of fifty grand. Planned it like a military operation. Found an ingenious place to keep his victim. Sent his messages on strips of Dynotape. Early in the hunt, the police had a lucky break. A stolen car was found containing the girl’s slippers and a tape recording of her voice appealing to the family to cooperate. Forensic evidence provided a firm link with the Panther, so they knew they were dealing with a killer. They put terrific resources into the hunt. The girl was missing for about eight weeks. When they finally found her it was too late. She was hanging naked by a wire rope in an underground drainage tunnel. Ruddy sadist. They caught up with him by chance, nine months later, about to do another post office. The point is, why did that young girl die? The answer is that the guy was a killer already. What’s one more death? If the Panther had been nicked before the girl was found, do you believe he would have revealed where she was hidden?”
    Warrilow said, “There’s no comparison.”
    To which Diamond replied, “You’re right, of course.” Then added mildly, “I wonder where Mr. Tott’s daughter is being kept.”
    There was an uncomfortable silence. Tott had lowered his head. It wasn’t possible to see his expression.
    Abruptly Farr-Jones said, “In the present exercise, I believe we should set aside any idea of arresting the man.”
    Warrilow backtracked shamelessly. “I don’t say we need apprehend him immediately, but we have a duty to the public to take this opportunity of tracking his movements. Rest assured, Mr. Diamond, he won’t be aware of what is going on.”
    “Fine,” said Diamond evenly. “You go ahead with your tracking. I’ll rest assured, as you put it—in the first InterCity back to London.”
    Tott said in alarm, “Don’t do that!”
    “He won’t,” said Warrilow. “He’d regret it for the rest of his life.”
    Warrilow talked as if he had just completed a course in assertiveness, but he wasn’t the one who would be putting his life on the line. Nor was he the senior officer present. Farr-Jones cleared his throat. “This is an unusual situation, gentlemen, and it would be wise to establish some priorities. Your duty is to recapture Mountjoy, Mr. Warrilow, and we shall do everything in our power to support you. However, the top consideration must be Miss Tott’s safety.”
    “Thank you for that, sir,” murmured Tott, while Diamond privately noted that nothing was said about his own safety.
    Farr-Jones continued, “From all that I have heard, Mr. Diamond had a high rate of success in his time here.”
    “Second to none,” said Tott without a trace of insincerity.
    Sensitive, possibly, to the contradictions in the file he’d studied, Farr-Jones explained, “He didn’t always go by the book, but he achieved