‘Which would confirm,’ suggested Ross, ‘that Booth Watson didn’t realize Faulkner was still alive when he set off for England in his yacht. Although that’s hardly slam dunk.’
‘Until you add the fact that Faulkner’s home in Spain was put on the market at around that time, and has since been taken off.’
‘What’s he up to?’ mused Ross.
‘I suspect that, like us, he’d be quite happy to see his client remain in jail for a very long time. While the cat’s away...’
‘I can’t make up my mind which one of them is the bigger crook.’
‘A close-run thing,’ suggested William, ‘but we’ll find out soon enough when the case comes to court.’
‘Meanwhile, what has the home team been up to in my absence?’
‘Preparing themselves for what I suspect will be a bruising encounter with Superintendent Milner and his cronies, once they discover what our real purpose is.’
‘When’s the opening round taking place?’
‘Rebecca and I report to Buckingham Gate next Tuesday, while Jackie and Paul will be checking into Windsor Castle at the same time.’
‘I can’t believe either of you will receive a particularly warm welcome, and that may not be the least of your problems.’ Ross lowered his voice, ‘I received a private briefing last week about a possible terrorist attack on a member of the Royal Family.’
William nodded. ‘Commander Holbrooke’s been in regular touch with the Hawk and, following Lockerbie, I can assure you that anyone who lands at Heathrow in possession of a Libyan passport spends several hours being questioned before they reach the baggage hall, and the majority of them are sent back home on the first available flight.’
‘That should please the Hawk, if not the liberal left,’ commented Ross. ‘And how is the old curmudgeon, dare I ask?’ he said as Jojo slotted a double door into place, and began clapping.
‘As feisty and cantankerous as ever, although recently he’s been talking about retirement.’
‘Now that he’s found the right person to take his place?’
‘That’s assuming Booth Watson isn’t planning to have us both locked up long before then,’ said William as Beth walked back into the room.
She curtsied before announcing, ‘Luncheon is served, my lords.’
‘But we haven’t finished building the palace!’ said Artemisia.
‘We’ll finish it together after lunch,’ promised Beth, ‘while your father and Ross do the washing up.’
‘I may have to go on another intensive training course before I can handle that,’ said Ross as he stood up and took Jojo’s hand.
‘Can I go with you this time?’ Jojo asked her father as Beth led them all out of the room and into the kitchen to find William sharpening the carving knife.
‘I’ve got an even better idea,’ whispered Ross as they sat down at the kitchen table. ‘Why don’t I take you to London Zoo tomorrow, and we can—’
‘Only if Arti and Peter can come as well.’
That was when Ross finally accepted that Jojo truly was part of the family.
Chapter 9
William and Rebecca arrived outside Number 4 Buckingham Gate early on the Tuesday morning, unsure ‘what they were about to receive’. They were, to quote Rebecca, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and more than ready to begin their new assignment.
William knocked on the door, as he didn’t have an entry code for the small keypad on the wall. He received no response. He banged a little harder, but still no response. He was about to try a third time when the door half opened and a man peered out at them over a chain. He looked as if he’d been woken from a deep sleep, and hadn’t had time to shave.
‘What do you want?’ he asked gruffly.
‘To come in,’ replied William.
‘Who are you?’
‘Detective Chief Inspector Warwick,’ said William, producing his warrant card. ‘Who are you?’
‘Sergeant Jennings. What can I do for you, Inspector?’
‘Chief Inspector,’ William snapped. ‘You can start by opening the door and showing me to my office.’
Jennings took the chain off the hook and reluctantly opened the door to allow the two strangers to enter. He silently led them down a long dark corridor, switching on the lights as he went. They descended a staircase to a basement, the dank, putrid smell suggesting it was rarely visited. They stopped before a door at the far end, where Jennings took his time looking for the right key.
‘Your office,’ he announced, after he’d finally managed to open it. He’d clearly never been in the room before, and shivered before standing aside to allow them to enter.
A single light bulb hung from the ceiling. Below it was a small plywood desk that wobbled when touched, two plastic chairs and a few wooden shelves lined with last year’s dust, along with a 1984 volume of the police yearbook.
‘Is there anything else I can do for you?’ asked Jennings, sounding as if they were keeping him from something more important.
‘Should I presume you’ve been on night duty, Sergeant?’
‘Yes,’ came back the sheepish reply.
‘Yes, sir,’ corrected William.
‘Yes, sir,’ snapped Jennings, clicking his heels.
‘The first thing you can do,’ said William, ‘is go and shave, put on a jacket and tie, and then report back to me.’
‘I’m just about to go off duty.’
‘Were just about to go off duty,’ said William, correcting him. Jennings turned to leave, mumbling something incoherent under his breath.
‘I’ve seen worse first thing in the morning,’ said Rebecca once he’d closed the door behind him. ‘But not since my student days.’
‘Are you referring to the Sergeant or the room?’
‘Both,’ she said, looking around, ‘but I’m confident I can improve at least one of them in the short term.’
‘It’s their way of letting us know how they feel about outsiders interfering with their entitled way of life. I think you can assume we’ll be left in the basement until they find out we’re not a bargain.’
‘Don’t worry, chief, I’ll have a Renoir, a Picasso and a Matisse on the wall long before the Superintendent turns up.’
‘I’d prefer a phone, a filing cabinet and a wastepaper basket,’ said William as he began to open the desk drawers, only to discover the cupboard was bare.
Rebecca took a small notepad and a Biro out of her attaché case and handed them to William, as Jennings ambled back into the room.
‘Go back out, Sergeant,’ said William. ‘Knock on the door and wait until you’re asked to come in. And when you do, remember to bring your own chair.’
Rebecca would have liked to have captured the look on Jennings’s face to remind her of their first day at work with Royalty Protection. This time he retreated without comment.
‘I do believe you’re enjoying yourself, chief,’ ventured Rebecca.
‘If Jennings is anything to go by, this is going to be more of a challenge than I’d originally thought.’
There was a knock on the door.
‘Come in,’ said William.
Jennings opened the door and walked back in, carrying a comfortable chair.
‘You can sit down, Sergeant,’ said William.
Jennings placed his chair in front of the desk and sat down. William remained standing, while Jennings leant forward, as if perched on a stool in the corner of a boxing ring, waiting for the bell to sound for the first round.
‘Name and rank?’
‘I’ve already told you,’ retorted Jennings.