‘So what happens next?’ asked Beth.
‘My suspension is only temporary, pending an inquiry.’
‘But how long will that take?’
‘Three or four months at the most. And before you ask, I’ll remain on full pay, and the Hawk thinks the whole episode will be laughed out of court long before then.’
‘Perhaps you should take a leaf out of Lamont’s book.’
‘What, become a crook?’ said William wearily.
‘No, resign. Then there wouldn’t be an inquiry, and you could get a job that offers a more realistic wage for the hours you put in, as well as working with colleagues you can trust.’
‘But that would be tantamount to admitting I’m guilty, which wouldn’t make finding another job quite so easy. And what’s more, I’d be crucified in the press.’
‘Are the press going to come after you?’ asked Beth, sounding anxious.
‘It’s unlikely at the moment. The Hawk has issued an internal statement giving me his full support, and has made personal calls to all the leading crime correspondents in Fleet Street leaving them in no doubt which stone they should be looking under, while gently reminding them of the libel laws. And if it turns out that I do have to issue a writ, the Met will pick up the bill. For once, my reputation as a choirboy has worked in my favour.’
‘But surely what Lamont has accused you of is a crime?’
‘The Hawk’s already made it clear that no criminal proceedings are being considered. That’s his way of letting everyone including the press know that I’m innocent, and the finger’s being pointed at the wrong man.’
‘What are you going to do for the next three or four months?’ asked Beth, holding back the tears that had replaced her anger.
‘Finally master the art of changing a nappy, while feeding two human dustbins at the same time.’
‘Fat chance of that,’ said Beth, regaining her composure. ‘You wouldn’t survive three days, let alone three months. But please promise me one thing.’
‘Anything, darling.’
‘You may have forgotten we’re going to the Fitzmolean tomorrow evening for the unveiling of the Vermeer. Please don’t mention your suspension to my parents or yours, otherwise what’s meant to be a joyful occasion could turn into a wake.’
‘I won’t say a word until we have lunch with my parents at the weekend. Although my father and Grace have already worked out I’m likely to be suspended, so it won’t come as much of a surprise to them. In fact, they’ve offered to act as my defence team, with Clare as my solicitor.’
‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,’ said Beth, sounding even more anxious.
William took her in his arms. How he wished he could tell her the truth.
Commander Hawksby took his place at the top of the table to chair the team’s Monday-morning meeting. Because William was unable to attend he didn’t open with his usual warm greeting.
‘As you all know,’ he said, ‘following ex-superintendent Lamont’s evidence given under oath, Inspector Warwick has been suspended, pending a full inquiry.’
‘It’s a bloody disgrace,’ said Paul. ‘That’s like sacking Churchill after he’d won the Second World War.’
‘Which is exactly what the British people did,’ the Hawk reminded him. ‘But don’t forget, he returned in triumph in 1951, and served for four more years. However, the commissioner has made it clear we are not to continue with our investigation of Lamont and Summers while the Warwick inquiry is ongoing. With that in mind, DC Pankhurst will be transferred to other duties, which I will come to in a moment. PC Bailey will remain in Romford for the time being, until I find an appropriate moment to transfer her back to the Yard.’
‘Perhaps it’s for the best,’ said Nicky, ‘because I’m yet to be convinced Summers is bent. Only last week he made two arrests, including a villain who’s been stealing Jaguars, who our boys have been after for years.’
The rest of the team listened in silence.
‘Rumour is,’ continued Nicky, ‘that Summers is about to be put up for another commendation. I’m beginning to wonder if our informant is just another Lamont, looking for revenge.’
‘Quite possibly,’ said the Hawk. ‘So, I’ll try and get you back to the Yard without it being too obvious what you were up to.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Nicky. ‘I can’t wait to rejoin the team.’
Not everyone smiled.
‘Any more news from court number one?’ asked Jackie, changing the subject.
‘After Lamont’s car crash, I can’t believe it will take the jury that long to reach a verdict. But we still have to plan for the unexpected, so should Rashidi somehow manage to get off, one of you will have to watch him twenty-four/seven because once he’s out I’m sure he’ll lead us straight to the new slaughter. And the same goes for Tony Roberts, or whatever his name is, who I have a feeling has been running Rashidi’s operation in his absence.’
‘He’s not bright enough for that,’ said Paul. ‘At best he could keep it ticking over until Rashidi returns.’
‘If that’s the case,’ said the Hawk, ‘we could end up nabbing them both. If Roberts is even thinking about opening a new slaughter, I’m going to shut it down before it supplies its first customer. We’ll then lock him up in a cell far smaller than the apartment he claims he’s been living in for the past ten years and this time he won’t have a phone number to remember. But now, let’s not waste any more time trying to second-guess the verdict,’ he said as he passed them each a file.
‘Excuse me, sir,’ said Nicky. ‘I ought to get going. I’m expected back in Romford in a couple of hours.’
‘Not for much longer,’ said the Hawk, as she gathered up her files. Once Nicky had closed the door behind her, the Hawk waited for a moment before saying, ‘Now she’s out of the way, let’s get back to our original agenda. To start with, DI Warwick has not been suspended. However, I do need Lamont, Summers and not least PC Bailey to believe he has. With that in mind...’
The foreman checked a chart that showed the name of every juror. He ticked off number seven. ‘Mr Pugh, perhaps I could begin by asking you why you consider Mr Rashidi is innocent?’
The foreman was puzzled as to why Pugh had changed his mind, when earlier in the week he’d told him that life imprisonment was far too good for the likes of Rashidi, and the damn man should be hanged. But he sat back and listened, hoping he would explain his Pauline conversion.
‘I’d like to begin,’ said Pugh, ‘by reminding everyone that all we know for certain about Assem Rashidi is that he’s chairman of a respectable City company, and has never had a conviction of any sort in his life. Not even a parking ticket, as Mr Booth Watson pointed out.’
‘Unlikely when you’ve got a chauffeur?’ suggested another juror.
‘There’s no need to be frivolous,’ snapped Pugh. ‘And I’m bound to add that I found Sangster’s testimony unconvincing, to say the least. Should we allow this case to rest on the word of a convicted drug addict who was struck off the medical register for supplying illegal substances to his patients?’
‘That may well be the case,’ said another juror, ‘but I’m in no doubt he worked for Rashidi.’
‘Whereas,’ continued Pugh, ignoring the interruption, ‘I found Dr Goddard’s heartfelt evidence compelling. A dedicated professional man who told us that Mr Rashidi had donated over a million pounds to his clinic. Hardly the action of a drug lord. And you’ll have noticed that Sir Julian didn’t even bother to cross-examine him.’
‘But what about Roberts? He was obviously lying from the moment he entered the witness box. Didn’t you find it strange that he referred to Rashidi as Assem, when he’d said he didn’t even know him?’