‘We’re on top of it,’ said William.
‘Are you also fully prepared to be torn apart by Booth Watson from the moment you enter the witness box?’
‘Over-prepared, sir. I spent last weekend being grilled by my sister Grace, who didn’t show me any mercy.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said the Hawk, ‘because Booth Watson considers policemen fair game, even more so when they’re the son of the Crown’s leading counsel.’
First, he had to decide on which day of the week he would carry out the deception, aware that he now had a shadow. He settled on the Sunday before the trial. Next, what time of the day or night he was least likely to be noticed; he chose 3 a.m., as only a skeleton crew would be on duty at that time in the morning. And finally, should he be in uniform or in mufti? He came to the conclusion he’d be less likely to be remembered if he was dressed in civilian clothes.
At three o’clock the following Sunday morning, he was standing on the pavement outside Scotland Yard, a small package under his left arm.
He used his entry pass to open the glass door before he approached the reception desk, which was manned by a young woman reading a fashion magazine. He flicked open his warrant card.
‘Good morning, superintendent,’ she said, slipping the magazine under the counter.
‘Just got to pick up something I left on my desk,’ Lamont explained. ‘Shouldn’t be too long.’
‘Of course, sir,’ she said, swivelling the night log around so he could sign in. But he was already on the way to the lift, and she didn’t feel she could leave the desk to chase after a superintendent. She’d have to catch him on the way out.
He kept his back to her while he waited for the lift to arrive, and stepped inside immediately the doors opened. He then pressed 7, Administration, the least likely department to have anyone working at three o’clock on a Sunday morning.
When the doors opened, he got out into an unlit corridor and waited for a few moments before walking to the far end, where he opened the fire-escape door and jogged down the stone steps to the basement. He stepped into another unlit corridor, but didn’t turn the light on. He knew exactly where he was going.
He walked slowly along the corridor until he reached the end door. Having already checked who’d be on duty, he felt sure the nightwatchman would either be fast asleep or reading the Racing Post. Only the most idle volunteered for the early-morning shift, knowing they would still be paid even if they occasionally dozed off.
‘Good morning, Sam,’ he said as he marched in, disturbing the ancient constable’s slumbers. ‘Just need to check on something. Won’t be a moment.’
‘Be my guest, super,’ said Sam, hoping he wouldn’t be put on report.
Lamont walked straight past him, pushed his way through another door and headed for the evidence room. It only took him a few minutes to find what he was looking for, and to carry out the switch. The small package fitted neatly into his raincoat pocket.
‘Goodnight,’ he said when he returned to find Sam head down, trying to assess the runners and riders for the 4.30 at Kempton Park the following day.
‘Night, super,’ he replied, without looking up.
He took the stairs to the ground floor, where the early-morning cleaners were signing in. He walked quickly across the entrance hall towards the door, ignoring the receptionist’s cry of ‘Excuse me, sir!’ By the time she’d thought about chasing after him, he was already out of sight.
When he reached Buckingham Gate, he hailed a taxi. A necessary expense. Couldn’t risk someone recognizing him on the long walk back to Hammersmith. Police officers look at you more carefully at that time of night. He settled back in the corner of the cab, where the driver wouldn’t be able to see him in his rear-view mirror, and smiled. The whole exercise had been carried out in less than fifteen minutes. Tomorrow morning, he would collect the other £8,000, and his problems would be sorted. But for how long?
7
Beth poured him a second cup of coffee, surprised that he hadn’t touched his bacon and eggs. William seemed preoccupied, even anxious, and at times like this she felt shut out.
She tried an old ploy. ‘What’s the problem, caveman? It’s not as if you haven’t appeared in a witness box before.’
‘But this could be my last appearance. If I make a balls-up of it and the jury decide that Rashidi is a decent, upstanding citizen who’s been wrongly arrested by an over-zealous copper.’
‘That seems a little far-fetched,’ Beth said, as she started to feed the twins.
‘Far-fetched is Booth Watson’s stock in trade. And don’t forget what he hinted at when I last faced him in the witness box...’
‘And don’t you forget, he lost the case,’ said Beth, ‘and Faulkner ended up getting eight years.’
‘Which will only make him more determined to—’
‘But you spent the whole of yesterday afternoon being grilled by your sister, and Grace doesn’t take prisoners.’
‘True, but even she can’t always second-guess what Booth Watson will come up with, and it’s me who has to face the grand inquisitor.’
‘Why isn’t Lamont giving evidence instead of you? After all, he was the senior officer on the case.’
‘Booth Watson took him apart last time, and he’ll know only too well why Lamont retired early.’
‘Did your father give you any advice?’
‘He never left his study the whole afternoon. He was preparing his cross-examination of Rashidi. When I left, all he said was to look out for Booth Watson’s googly.’
‘What’s a googly?’
‘As you’ve never shown any interest in cricket, my darling, it would take me a week to explain,’ said William, picking up his knife and fork and poking at a yolk that had gone hard.
‘You’ll be fine,’ said Beth, trying to reassure him. ‘The jury won’t be in any doubt which one of you is telling the truth. A notorious drugs baron, or the Choirboy.’
‘I wish it was that simple.’ William gave up and pushed his plate aside. ‘Booth Watson is a past master when it comes to planting doubt in a juror’s mind, whereas my father, as prosecution counsel, has to prove his case beyond reasonable doubt.’
‘How come Booth Watson is representing Rashidi?’
‘Because of a mistake we made, and didn’t give a second thought to at the time,’ said William after taking a sip of his cold coffee. ‘They put Rashidi in the same prison as Faulkner, so it was only going to be a matter of time before the magnet attracted the filings.’
‘I wonder if Rashidi’s having bacon and eggs this morning.’
‘Another cup of coffee, Mr Rashidi?’ asked one of the officers.
Rashidi nodded, as he broke into his second three-and-a-half-minute boiled egg.
‘What do you want me to do while you’re at the Old Bailey?’ asked Tulip, now a regular at the top table.
‘Just keep things ticking over in my absence. You can bring me up to date every morning at breakfast, and at church on Sunday. Meanwhile, have you dealt with the officer who was skimming?’
‘He’s been transferred to another prison. In Wolverhampton.’
‘But have you found someone to take his place?’
‘There was a queue, boss, and all of them have worked out the consequences of crossing you.’
‘Brief me fully tomorrow morning.’
‘You may not be coming back,’ said Tulip, grinning. ‘The case might be thrown out of court.’