Next in Line (William Warwick, #5)(48)

‘Stop wasting my time,’ said the Hawk.

‘For the past month, I’ve been taking a particular interest in a certain Sergeant Nigel Hicks.’

‘And what’s so special about Sergeant Hicks?’

‘He’s been the Royalty Protection forward liaison officer for the past eleven years.’

‘How fascinating,’ said the commander, stifling a yawn.

‘It would be, sir, if only Sergeant Hicks existed.’

The look on the Hawk’s face didn’t suggest that of a seasoned poker player. ‘Details,’ he demanded, sitting bolt upright in his chair.

‘Sergeant Hicks retired eleven years ago – and died a couple of years later. He was buried at his local church in Sevenoaks.’

‘You have proof, of course?’

Paul produced a photograph of Hicks’s headstone and handed it over to the commander.

NIGEL HICKS

1918–1981

‘You’re not going to tell me that—’

‘He still receives his full salary, and last year somehow managed to claim over ￡70,000 in expenses, without actually turning up at the office.’

‘But did they get away with it?’

‘It’s possible Hicks was involved,’ suggested William.

‘But he died.’

‘Not according to the record book.’

‘But surely someone—’ began the Hawk.

‘That’s the point, sir,’ came back William. ‘Milner, Jennings and Reynolds were all in on the scam, and were only too happy to take their cut. In fact, Hicks still has his own office in Windsor, with his name on the door.’

‘And how did Milner explain why no one else ever saw him?’

‘He was the forward liaison officer, sir, so he was always abroad, checking out venues on behalf of minor members of the Royal Family who were due to visit that country at some time in the future. He claimed travel expenses for cities he never visited, an accommodation allowance for hotels he never stayed in, as well as regular claims for unsocial hours and overtime. In fact, during the past eleven years, the phantom sergeant has been paid over ￡270,000 in wages, supplemented with another ￡700,000 in expenses. Not to mention claiming a million airmiles without ever getting on a plane.’

‘What happened to the tickets for those flights he never took?’

‘Some were cashed in, others were used whenever one of the three of them went on holiday. They’ve all visited some fairly exotic places during the past eleven years: Rio, Cape Town, Mexico, St Petersburg …’

‘How did you find out?’ barked the Hawk, barely able to control his temper.

‘I finally broke into the missing sergeant’s office, sir, only to discover that the cupboard was bare.’

‘The dog that didn’t bark in the night,’ said the commander. ‘Bravo, Paul. However, I still require icing on my cake before I report to the Commissioner. Tell me how they disposed of their ill-gotten gains, because it’s always how a criminal spends the money that catches them out in the end.’

‘Pull the trigger, Jackie,’ said William.

‘Once Paul and Rebecca had produced enough evidence to prove exactly what Milner was up to,’ said Jackie, ‘I took your advice and followed the money.’

‘And what did you come up with?’ asked the Hawk.

‘Milner does have a car, a Mercedes SI, latest model, which he paid for with cash, because there’s no sign of any entries other than his salary as a Superintendent, going into his bank account. So someone might be tempted to ask how he can possibly own a three-storey house on the common in Barnes, a country home in Berkshire with five acres, and a substantial property in Ibiza that could only be described as front line.’

An even longer silence followed before the Hawk said, ‘How did he get away with it for so long?’

‘That was the easy part,’ said William. ‘Because there was no one to question him until we turned up, and if Constable Jenny Smart hadn’t felt it was her duty to point Jackie in the right direction, it might have taken us years to nail him. But with her assistance,’ continued William, ‘the team have been able to gather enough evidence, along with Paul’s silver bullet to ensure that Milner will not be spending his retirement in Ibiza, but as a resident of Belmarsh prison at Her Majesty’s pleasure.’

‘A different form of royal protection,’ suggested Paul.

The commander smiled for the first time that morning. ‘Once you’ve handed in your report, DCI Warwick,’ he said, ‘I’ll brief the Commissioner so he has all the ammunition he needs when he has his audience with the Prince of Wales. Meanwhile, I congratulate you all on a job well done. But if it should blow up in our faces, I fear DS Adaja will have to carry the can.’

‘And if I’m proved right?’ asked Paul, after the laughter had died down.

‘I will personally sack Milner and his two partners in crime,’ said the Hawk, ‘take all the credit, promote DCI Warwick to Superintendent, and put him in charge of Royalty Protection, and will allow DS Adaja to keep reminding us all that he was the brains behind Operation Overcharge.’

The rest of the team rose and warmly applauded Paul, as the phone on the commander’s desk began to ring. The Hawk picked it up. ‘Angela, I said no calls unless the building is on fire.’