Sloane could feel the palms of his hands sweating. He wiped them on his trousers as the tape recorder whirred back into action.
“Customs office, Heathrow.”
“Put me through to the senior customs officer.”
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“No, you may not.”
“I’ll see if he’s available.”
Stokes pressed the Stop button. “Listen carefully, Mr. Sloane.” The chief inspector pressed the Play button once again, and this time Sloane could hear the faint sound of chimes in the background. Stokes pressed Stop.
“Ten o’clock,” he said, his eyes still fixed on Sloane.
“So what?”
“Now I’d like you to listen to the second tape again,” said Stokes as he swapped the cassettes. “Because I called you in your office at one minute to ten.”
“Is this Adrian Sloane?”
“Depends who’s asking.”
A long pause, and this time Sloane couldn’t miss the ten chimes. He felt beads of sweat on his forehead and, despite having a handkerchief in his top pocket, made no attempt to wipe them away.
The detective pressed Stop. “And I can assure you, Mr. Sloane, those chimes came from the same clock, which our American expert has confirmed is St. Mary-le-Bow, Cheapside, less than a hundred yards from your office.”
“That proves nothing. There must be thousands of offices in the vicinity, and you know it.”
“You’re quite right, which is why I requested a court order to allow me to check your phone records for that particular day.”
“Over a hundred people work in the building,” said Sloane. “It could have been any one of them.”
“On a Saturday morning, Mr. Sloane? I don’t think so. In any case, it wasn’t the bank’s number that I called, but your private line, and you answered it. Don’t you get the distinct feeling that these coincidences are beginning to mount up?”
Sloane stared defiantly back at him.
“Perhaps the time has come,” said Stokes, “for us to consider yet another coincidence.” He opened a file in front of him and studied a long list of phone numbers. “Just before you phoned the customs office at Heathrow—”
“I never phoned the customs office at Heathrow.”
“You made a call to Bristol 698 337,” Stokes continued, ignoring the outburst, “which is the office of Mr. Desmond Mellor, who I understand is the client you mentioned as having substantial shareholdings in Farthings Bank at the time of the Bishara trial. Yet another coincidence?”
“That proves nothing. I sit on the board of Mellor Travel, of which he’s the chairman, so we always have a lot to discuss.”
“I’m sure you do, Mr. Sloane. So perhaps you can explain why you made a second call to Mr. Mellor the moment you’d put the phone down on Mr. Collier.”
“It’s possible I couldn’t get through to Mellor the first time and I was making a second attempt.”
“If you didn’t get through the first time, why did that call last twenty-eight minutes and three seconds?”
“It could have been Mr. Mellor’s secretary who answered the phone. Yes, now I remember. I had a long chat to Miss Castle that morning.”
Stokes looked down at a page in his notebook. “Mr. Mellor’s secretary, Miss Angela Castle, has informed us that she was visiting her mother in Glastonbury on that particular Saturday morning, where they both attended a local antiques fair.”
Sloane licked his lips, which were feeling unusually dry.
“Your second call to Mr. Mellor’s office lasted six minutes and eighteen seconds.”
“That doesn’t prove that I spoke to him.”
“I thought you might say that. Which is why I asked Mr. Mellor to drop in and see me earlier today. He admitted that he spoke to you twice that morning, but says that he can’t remember the details of either conversation.”
“So this has been nothing more than a fishing expedition,” said Sloane. “All you’ve come up with is speculation and coincidence. Because one thing’s for certain, Mellor would never have taken the bait.”
“You could be right, Mr. Sloane. However, I have a feeling neither of you will want this case to come to court. It might well make your colleagues in the City feel there was just one coincidence too many for them to consider doing business with you again.”
“Are you threatening me, Stokes?”
“Certainly not, sir. In fact, I confess I have a problem.” Sloane smiled for the first time. “I just can’t make up my mind which one of you to arrest, and which one of you to release without charge.”
“You’re bluffing.”
“Possibly, but I thought I’d give you the first chance to take up my offer to give evidence on behalf of the Crown. Should you turn me down—”
“Never,” said Sloane defiantly.
“Then I have no choice but to go next door and make the same offer to Mr. Mellor.”
The sweat was now pouring down Sloane’s fleshy cheeks. The chief inspector paused for a moment before saying, “Shall I give you a few minutes to think about it, Mr. Sloane?”
45
“I’m beginning to believe that Mrs. Thatcher will win the next election,” said Emma after returning from an area group meeting.
“Including Bristol Docklands?”
“Almost certainly. We’ve chosen an impressive candidate and he’s going down well with the electorate.”
“Giles won’t be pleased about that.”
“He’d be even less pleased if he could see our canvass returns for the West Country, and if things are the same nationally, Margaret will be taking up residence at No.10 in the not-too-distant future. I’ll know more after the national chairman’s meeting at Central Office, when she’ll be addressing us.”
“That sounds like a whole lot of fun,” said Harry.
“Don’t mock or I’ll have you thrown in the tower.”
“You’d make a rather good governor of the tower.”
“And you and Giles will be the first on the rack.”
“What about Seb?”
“He always votes Conservative,” said Emma.
“Which reminds me,” said Harry, “he called last night to say he now has to make an appointment to see you, so heaven knows what it’s going to be like after the election — that’s assuming Thatcher wins.”
“Actually it will be a lot easier after the election as I’m not eligible to stand for a second term as area chairman. So I’ll be able to devote more time to the hospital, and I’m rather hoping that in time Seb will be willing to take over as chairman of Barrington’s. The company needs a breath of fresh air if we’re to compete with the latest luxury liners.” Emma gave her husband a kiss.
“Must dash or I’ll be late. I’m chairing a hospital subcommittee in an hour’s time.”
“Will you be seeing Giles when you’re in London? Because if you are—”
“Certainly not. I shall not be consorting with the enemy until after the election, when he’ll be back in Opposition.”
“We may have a traitor in our camp,” said Pengelly, once they had left the road and he was sure no one could overhear them.
Karin tried not to show how nervous she felt. She daily lived in fear of Pengelly finding out that it was she who was in fact the traitor. She had often shared these anxieties with Baroness Forbes-Watson, who was no longer just her handler but had become a trusted friend and confidante.