When he reached No. 1 Fetter Court, he didn’t have to scan the list of names painted on the white brick wall to discover on which floor the head of chambers resided. He climbed the creaky wooden staircase to the second floor and knocked on the door. Not for the first time, he felt like a naughty schoolboy about to face the headmaster’s wrath for failing to hand in his weekly essay.
The door was opened by Miss Plumstead, the head of Chambers’ secretary, who showed him through to Booth Watson’s inner sanctum.
‘Good morning, Captain Neville,’ said Booth Watson, as he waited for his secretary to leave the room.
‘What can possibly be so important that I’m expected to cancel a board meeting and come running?’ said Miles once the door had closed.
‘Mrs Rashidi’s dead.’ Booth Watson paused to allow his client to take in the news. ‘She died peacefully in her sleep yesterday afternoon,’ he said as his client collapsed into the nearest chair.
Miles was silent for some time before he asked, ‘Who did she leave the Raphael to?’
‘She’s left everything, including the Raphael, to the Brompton Oratory, her church in Kensington,’ said Booth Watson, reading directly from the will.
‘That’s all right then,’ said Miles. ‘The Oratory will hang the painting in the church for all its parishioners to worship, and no one will be any the wiser.’
‘That might well have been the case if the Oratory didn’t need a new roof, which will cost over a million pounds. I understand the church council considered it nothing less than a miracle when Raphael’s Madonna appeared at the moment they most needed her.’
‘Then we have to get it back before anyone finds out it’s a fake,’ said Miles. ‘Offer them a million.’
‘That may not be enough. Unfortunately, one of the church wardens is a director of Christie’s, so you can be sure the council will seek his opinion. But I think I may have a solution to the problem.’ At that moment the door opened, and Miss Plumstead appeared with a tray of coffee and biscuits.
‘I would be honoured to be the guest speaker at your Falklands reunion dinner in October, Captain Neville,’ said Booth Watson without missing a beat, as she poured them both coffee.
‘I’ll inform the committee at our next meeting. And we’d hoped you’d propose the health of the club, which I, as secretary, will be replying to,’ said Miles, as Miss Plumstead left the room.
‘So what’s your solution?’ pressed Miles, the moment she had closed the door behind her.
‘As we both know, Raphael’s Madonna di Cesare is a fake and not the original... What makes it worse,’ continued Booth Watson, ‘is when I handed over the picture to Mrs Rashidi, in exchange for her shares in Marcel and Neffe, the contract included the original paperwork and proof of provenance, so neither the Oratory nor Christie’s will have any reason to doubt its authenticity.’
‘So what are you advising me to do?’
‘You have no choice but to buy it back when it comes up for sale at Christie’s. If the Oratory were to discover it’s a fake, it wouldn’t take them long to find out who sold the painting to Mrs Rashidi in the first place, and then work out where the original is.’
‘But I’m dead,’ said Miles. ‘Just in case you’ve forgotten.’
‘And Christina is still very much alive, and this would give her another stick to beat you with because she knows the original is hanging in Monte Carlo.’
‘I still don’t fancy coughing up over a million for a fake when I already own the original.’
‘I sympathize with you, Miles, but it’s a better alternative to spending the next ten years in solitary.’
‘I could kill Christina.’
‘Then you’d end up spending twenty years in solitary. No, I think I’ve come up with a better solution for how to deal with Christina.’
‘Namely?’
‘Marry her.’
Danny drove slowly around the perimeter of the airport before coming to a halt at Gate 43. The commander got out and introduced Fenton to his colleague.
‘Good morning, inspector,’ said Fenton. ‘I hope we haven’t kept you waiting too long.’
‘About six months, sir,’ said William, as he shook hands with the chief superintendent.
‘Well, you won’t have to wait much longer,’ said the Hawk as they watched flight 016 touch down at the far end of the runway and begin to taxi towards them. It took several minutes for the plane to come to a halt at the gate and as it approached, the commander had to hold on to his hat to prevent it being blown off by the thrust of the engines.
Two ground staff pushed a flight of steps towards the aircraft door.
‘Summers and his companion are in row nine, seats A and B,’ said Fenton, checking his booking sheet, ‘so they should be among the first off the plane.’
The plane’s door swung open, and the Hawk walked across to the bottom of the steps and began scanning the passengers as they made their way down onto the tarmac. It wasn’t long before William said, ‘That’s him. Six foot two, navy blazer, jeans and an open-neck shirt.’
‘And I assume that’s Karen Turner behind him,’ said the Hawk.
‘What makes you say that, sir?’ said William.
‘Look at the third finger of her left hand.’
William switched his attention to an attractive blonde who looked as if she had just spent a fortnight in the sun.
‘This is going to be a holiday she’ll never forget,’ said William. ‘Do we arrest both of them?’
‘No, just Summers. I’ll take Miss Turner to one side and relieve her of the engagement ring,’ said the Hawk. ‘Let’s hope they haven’t set a date for the wedding before 2010.’
As Summers and Miss Turner stepped onto the tarmac, five officers headed towards them. William and two young constables blocked Summers’s path, while the commander and a WPC DC Pankhurst took his companion to one side.
‘DS Jerry Summers,’ said William, who produced his warrant card. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Warwick, and I am arresting you on suspicion of handling stolen goods and misconduct in a public office. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’
Summers looked shocked, and quickly glanced back at Karen, only to see her being led away by an older man and a WPC. Two uniformed officers thrust his arms behind his back and handcuffed him before he was taken to the waiting police car. He said nothing.
‘Let me begin this meeting,’ said the commander, ‘by officially welcoming back Detective Inspector Warwick. He’s been on what the civil service call gardening leave, even though he doesn’t have a garden. Whereas in fact, as you all know, for the past five months he’s been operating as my UCO, and kept me well informed, which is why I’ve been able to stay a yard ahead of the rest of you. Even his wife has been kept in the dark, such was the secrecy of this operation.’
Well, not quite, William wanted to say, but decided against it.
‘PC Bailey must have worked it out,’ said Paul, ‘because she tipped William off about Summers’ and Lamont’s visit to the Playboy Club, which proved they were working in tandem.’
‘Nicky certainly played her part by briefing me on why I should go to the Playboy Club that night,’ said William.
‘Agreed,’ said Jackie. ‘But we shouldn’t ignore the fact that PC Bailey withheld vital information for some time, which could have speeded up our investigation.’
‘Perhaps we should also remember,’ said DC Pankhurst, ‘that she doesn’t intend to return to the force after her baby is born.’
‘Which would solve one problem,’ said the commander. ‘Because I’m still to be convinced she played any part in Summers’s illegal activities.’