Next in Line (William Warwick, #5)(57)

Ross crept stealthily across the lawn to an ancient oak tree on the far side of the lake and climbed its branches like a schoolboy until he reached one that was large enough to perch on. He took out his monocular and scanned the arc of fire. It was some time before he spotted the snapper, as his camouflage was good, and his chosen spot was well hidden. Although he’d blackened his face and hands and wore a green and brown woollen hat, a glint of sunlight caught the long lens that poked out from below a bush and gave him away.

‘Got you,’ muttered Ross. He pocketed the monocular, climbed back down the tree and inched his way cautiously towards the wall, making sure he remained out of sight. Every one of his senses was on the highest alert as he skirted the perimeter until finally he saw a foot sticking out from beneath a bush.

Ross crouched down and advanced more slowly, careful not to make the slightest noise. A breaking twig would sound like a gunshot. When he was about thirty feet away, he lay flat on his stomach and, like a predator that’s spotted its next meal, advanced even more slowly towards him, his eyes never leaving the target.

He stopped when he heard the click of a shutter. Click, click, click. Another couple of feet, click, click, and then the final few inches, click, before he raised himself onto his hands and knees. He took a deep breath, leapt forward and grabbed his prey by the ankles, before yanking him unceremoniously from his hiding place.

When the man saw who it was, he said, ‘Fuck off, Inspector. I was invited, unlike you.’

‘Shall we go and find out if that’s true?’ said Ross, twisting an arm half-way up his back. ‘If, as you claim, Chalabi invited you to take photos of him with the princess, which you’ll then sell to the papers without her permission, I have a feeling that, like St Peter, he’ll deny you at least three times. But then it’s possible you know Chalabi far better than I do, so I’ll leave the choice up to you: the front door or the main gate?’

Ross gave the man a few moments to consider his options before he grabbed the other arm and started frogmarching him towards the gates.

‘What about my equipment?’ the snapper demanded.

‘What about it?’

‘It’s worth thousands of pounds.’

‘Then you were foolish to leave it lying about, weren’t you?’

‘I’ll sue you.’

‘If I were to kill you right now,’ said Ross as they reached the gates, ‘there isn’t a jury in the land that would convict me.’ The snapper groaned as an arm was shoved further up his back.

‘He’s leaving,’ Ross said firmly to the guard on duty, who reluctantly opened one of the gates, allowing Ross to hurl the intruder out onto the road. ‘Make sure he doesn’t come back, unless you want your references checked more carefully.’

The guard looked suitably contrite.

Ross returned to the outskirts of the forest and picked up the camera, but left the rest of the snapper’s equipment where he’d found it. On his way up to the house, he paused by the lake, where several asagi carp were poking their heads out of the water, mouths wide open, clearly hoping to be fed. Ross sat down and examined the expensive Leica camera for a few minutes, even took some photos of the carp, before it slipped through his fingers and fell into the water, causing the carp to scatter in every direction, while it sank below the surface.

‘What a pity,’ he said as it disappeared out of sight.

Before he got back to the house, Ross put a call through to the local police, gave the duty sergeant the name of the photographer and the registration number of his Porsche. He asked him to make sure he didn’t come within five miles of the estate for the rest of the day.

‘My pleasure,’ was all the sergeant had to say.

After keeping watch for the rest of the morning to make sure the photographer didn’t reappear, Ross returned to the kitchen and enjoyed what his mother would have called a slap-up Sunday lunch. He thanked the cook before preparing to accompany HRH back to London.

When the car set off on its return journey, Ross noticed that Chalabi didn’t have the same self-satisfied grin on his face that he’d displayed when they’d arrived the previous day.

‘I do hope the weekend wasn’t quite as bad as you feared it might be,’ said Diana as they drove out of the gates and headed back towards London.

‘Thank you, ma’am,’ said Ross. ‘It turned out to be far more agreeable than I would have thought possible.’





CHAPTER 22





WILLIAM WAS SURPRISED TO SEE DI Reynolds standing by the entrance to Number 4 Buckingham Gate when he turned up the following morning, not least because it wasn’t yet eight a.m., an hour William didn’t normally associate with Reynolds. But he quickly discovered why he was there.

‘Superintendent Milner wants to see you in his office now,’ said Reynolds, emphasizing the word ‘now’.

‘Thank you, Inspector,’ said William, walking straight past him. ‘I was rather hoping to have a word with him myself, so you’ve saved me the trouble of having to make an appointment.’

When he reached the Superintendent’s office on the second floor, he knocked and waited for the command, ‘Come,’ before entering. Milner waved William to a chair on the other side of his desk without any suggestion of a greeting.