‘I expect all of you to have your reports on my desk by midday,’ said the Hawk. ‘What do you have to say for yourself, DC Pankhurst?’ he asked the one person who had remained resolutely silent.
‘The extended liquor licence application for the strip club in Soho has been turned down, sir, and the officer concerned has had to unpick his three stripes and is back on the beat.’
A coded message that her latest intel would have to wait until they reconvened in an hour’s time, after Nicky had left for Romford.
The Hawk nodded. He couldn’t bring himself to look at PC Bailey, and wondered how much longer it would be before she had to admit who was the father of her unborn child, because he certainly didn’t move from Croydon.
Funerals, they say, are how the departed discover how popular they were. Just a pity they’re not present to find out.
The attendance at Assem Rashidi’s funeral might have been described as meagre at best. His mother was the only one who shed a tear when the body of her only child, or what was left of it, was lowered into the ground. The Catholic priest who presided over the service had never met him, and wouldn’t have agreed to perform the ceremony had Rashidi’s mother not been a regular attendee at the Brompton Oratory and, more important, one of the parish’s more generous benefactors.
Booth Watson stood a pace back from the small group of mourners, dressed in suitably sombre attire, head bowed, representing his client for the last time. Although he had hopes that Rashidi’s only known living relative might soon find herself in need of his services.
Two heavily built men, squeezed into tight-fitting suits, observed the burial from afar, looking as if their only purpose was to make sure the body didn’t miraculously rise from the dead. The little gathering was immediately doubled by the presence of four gravediggers.
Even further back stood William, shielded from view by a vast memorial statue of three angels, while behind him was a photographer who would have pictures of everyone present on the commander’s desk by noon.
The priest delivered the final blessing, followed by the sign of the cross. Not that he believed this particular sinner had much chance of entering the Kingdom of Heaven.
A few spots of rain began to fall. Booth Watson raised his umbrella and accompanied Mrs Rashidi back to her waiting car.
‘It was kind of you to attend Assem’s funeral, Mr Booth Watson,’ she said almost in a whisper.
‘A much-misunderstood man,’ he said gravely. ‘If there is anything I can do to assist you in the future, madam, please don’t hesitate to call upon my services.’ He handed her one of his embossed cards.
‘As it happens, Mr Booth Watson,’ she replied, ‘I do need advice on a private matter. My son died intestate, and I want someone to advise me on how to handle his—’ she hesitated — ‘somewhat complicated estate.’
Booth Watson opened the back door of a black Mercedes, lowered his umbrella and stood aside to allow his new client to climb in.
‘I shall wait for a suitable time to pass, Mrs Rashidi, to allow you to mourn, before I get back in touch.’
‘Don’t leave it too long,’ she said as he closed the door.
‘Always follow the money,’ said the commander when the team reconvened after PC Bailey had left for Romford. ‘But first, let’s recap on our most recent intel. At one o’clock last Friday morning, Marlboro Man visited the Paynes’ residence. He observed two men watching him from a parked car about a hundred yards away.
‘Once MM was inside the house, he handed Payne’s father, Reg, one kilo of cocaine, half a kilo of heroin and ten thousand pounds in marked notes, all delivered in a Sainsbury’s bag. I have receipts for all of them, and they were authorized by the assistant commissioner.
‘After leaving the house, MM drove off, but when it was clear no one was following him, he doubled back, and returned to a spot he’d identified earlier from which he could remain out of sight, but still have a clear view of Payne’s front door.
‘A few minutes later, two men got out of the parked car and entered Reg Payne’s house.’ The Hawk handed around several photographs. ‘You will note that MM is no David Bailey, but to be fair, he couldn’t use a flash, and he was some way off.’
The officers studied the pictures for some time before the Hawk asked, ‘Any observations?’
‘The tall one is Summers,’ said Jackie. ‘Could the other one, in the raincoat, be his partner in crime, DI Castle?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said William. ‘Castle is a lot older than that. But what’s he holding in his right hand?’
‘It’s Lamont,’ said Paul, who was examining one of the photographs through a magnifying glass.
‘What makes you think that, DS Adaja?’ asked the Hawk.
‘It’s a police cap. And if I’m not mistaken, that looks like silver braid on the peak.’
‘Impersonating a police officer may turn out to be the least of Lamont’s problems. However, it’s still a mistake he might live to regret,’ said the Hawk as he handed round another set of photographs of the two men coming out of the house twenty minutes later.
‘Can you spot the difference?’
‘Summers is now carrying the Sainsbury’s bag MM took in earlier,’ said Jackie.
‘And what does that tell us, DS Roycroft?’
‘They are now in possession of the drugs and the money.’
‘And more important?’
‘No one’s been arrested,’ said Rebecca. ‘So they must have made a deal.’
‘Don’t forget that PC Bailey told us nothing was recorded in Book 66, and Summers turned up at the nick the following morning empty-handed,’ said the Hawk.
‘So now we have three bent coppers — if you include Lamont,’ said William. ‘But the fourth is nowhere to be seen.’
‘Perhaps Nicky was unaware of what was going on?’ suggested Rebecca.
‘Seems unlikely, as MM has confirmed she spent Friday night at Summers’s home. But let’s give her the benefit of the doubt for the time being,’ said the Hawk, sounding unconvinced. ‘Who’s got the next question?’
‘Where did Summers and Lamont go after they left Payne’s house, if it wasn’t back to the nick?’ asked Rebecca.
‘Good thinking,’ said the commander, handing out another set of photographs.
‘MM followed them to the home of Jimmy Turner, the head of the family who lives on the other side of the patch. They were clearly expected, because the ground-floor light was on, and the front door was opened even before Summers knocked.’
‘Then what happened?’ asked Paul.
‘The two of them emerged about half an hour later, without the Sainsbury’s bag. So what can we assume from that, even though it wouldn’t stand up as evidence in court?’
‘They handed over the drugs to the Turner family, but held on to the cash?’
‘Which is why I emphasized at the beginning of this meeting that you must always follow the money,’ said the Hawk. ‘We now know they’re in possession of our original ten thousand, and in time can also expect their cut on the drugs money. But what they don’t know is that we have the serial numbers of every one of those banknotes, so the minute they try to spend any of the money, we’ll be on to them.’
‘They’re unlikely to go on a spending spree immediately,’ said William. ‘Lamont’s far too canny to allow them to do anything that crass. Don’t forget, the only reason you were able to get the holdall full of cash back after the drugs raid was because he hadn’t started spending it.’
‘Summers might not be quite as patient, so he could still be our best bet.’
‘I think Summers has already done something even more stupid,’ said Rebecca, who couldn’t resist pausing for a moment to ensure she had everyone’s attention.