Heatwave Oliver Davies (story reading .txt) 📖

I think it would make more sense for them to take the garage’s own canisters, right? They’re not going to be drawing it from the pump like at a petrol station. Much more efficient for the teenager who works there to have already got the cans ready that the gang are going to steal, no?”

“Yeah, that tracks.” Stephen gave a slow nod. “But still, how will we get them stuck onto the garage’s cans without any of the employees noticing?”

“That… will be the tricky bit,” I agreed. “Look, we’ll go and pick up the trackers, if Adams even has any available for us, and I’ll explain the plan on the way over to the garage, okay?”

Stephen gave me a slightly bemused look. “Sure, boss. I hope your idea is good, though.”

“Aren’t they always?” I teased, laughing at Stephen’s raised eyebrows.

“Some of your ideas are the absolute worst,” he said emphatically. “Marching up to a bunch of teenage boys hyped up on Red Bull and steroids, for example, wasn’t your finest hour.”

“That was just because I didn’t have you around for back-up,” I said easily, though I was only half-joking.

Stephen rolled his eyes at me and gave a long-suffering sigh. With that, we got up, making our way over to see Keira to get hold of some trackers.

She waved us away towards another member of her team, who handled the actual tech getting handed out to officers. The trackers were even smaller than I expected, and I stowed them carefully in my pocket so they wouldn’t get lost. The tech guy assured us that they’d stick to the petrol cans, whether they were plastic or metal, and that they’d emit a signal for as long as the battery lasted, which was up a week under good conditions.

“That’s brilliant, thanks,” I told him before we headed out.

Leaving the stuffy station and heading into the hot sun outside made both of us scrunch up our faces and Stephen huffed, already complaining about his clothes.

“Did you bring any of your iced coffee?” he groaned as we got into the overheated car.

“Fraid not, but we can buy one on the way back?” I offered as I got the car started up and left the station car park.

“If that’s the great plan you were talking about, I am fully on board.” He grinned.

“It’s part of the plan,” I laughed. “And I’m glad you’re on board because this is the rest of it. We head over to Michaelson’s, but we get car trouble before we’re there, and it’s urgent, so we drop by-”

“This is why you wanted an undercover car, then?”

“Aye, for sure. We go in, you deal with the mechanics, I have a scope around and hopefully find the fuel cans to put the tracker on.” I gestured with my hand before putting it back on the wheel. “If I can’t find ‘em, I might have to ask if they sell fuel. We’ll improvise. How’s that sound to you?”

“Sounds better than any of my ideas.” He gave a shrug of his broad shoulders before checking the time. “Let’s go for it, the afternoon is getting on, and we need to be sorted before tonight, right?”

I sent him an amused look. “By sorted, d’you mean stocked up on snacks for the night?”

“A trip to the shops is essential stake-out prep, mate, don’t diss it.”

“Absolutely,” I laughed.

We reached the garage not long later. The place looked relatively upmarket and tidy, and I parked up outside. Most likely, the owner had no idea what their employee was planning for tonight, and I wondered who’d be taking the blame when the petrol had disappeared by tomorrow? If there were any security cameras, the teens would have to disable them, I thought, especially since they had yet to overlook a detail like that so far. It had all been run with precision and foreplanning, which made the whole situation more concerning.

I hadn’t decided on whether or not we should actually fiddle with the car to create a mechanical fault before Stephen had the genius idea to do something simple, like have the oil running low. Stephen and I could play at being idiots who’d forgotten to get that topped up, and I could have a hunt around for the petrol cans whilst Stephen played his part.

In the end, the thing came off about as well as I’d hoped for. The petrol canisters hadn’t been obviously lying around the place, but when I asked a mechanic about buying some fuel to take with me, he took me to them. Stephen called him over to ask about the car, and I got a couple of trackers onto the cans before he came back.

“Success,” Stephen sighed as we drove away, him at the wheel this time. I had smears on my hands from touching the cans, which I cleaned off on one of my handkerchiefs as we left the garage.

“Sure was. Now we keep our eyes peeled and hope for the best.”

Stephen held up a finger. “But before that, we get coffee.”

“Aye, my bad. Iced coffee first,” I said with a short laugh.

Stephen took us over to a drive-through to pick up something cold, sweet, and caffeinated, and I got one too. Sam’s iced coffee was far better, but I was running low on it and wanted to save some for this evening. Then tomorrow would be the weekend, and Sam and I could whip up some more of the addictive stuff.

Sitting in an unmarked car was ideal for watching the garage tonight, and there was no point in going back to the station after we’d visited Michaelsons’. So we parked up nearby, and I got on the phone to give Rashford a brief update on where we were and what we’d been up to.

“Keep me updated,” she said when I was done. “I need results, Mitchell. I know you’ve been injured, so if you need someone else to work with Huxley and take the brunt of the case whilst you’re-”

“Ma’am, I’m fit enough