Next in Line (William Warwick, #5)(79)

He gripped the handles of the cases and began pulling them towards the door, surprised by how heavy they were. Once out on the pavement, he hailed a taxi, hoisted the cases into the back and pulled the door shut. Safer than an armoured car, he’d decided, because that would only attract attention and require a lot of form-filling.

‘Where to, guv’nor?’ asked the cabbie.

‘The Mayfair Trust Bank on Park Lane,’ said Lamont. He would have given the address of his bank in Hammersmith if he’d thought he could get away with it. But he was well aware that other eyes would be watching him, and if he didn’t deliver the money straight back to where it had originally come from, it would be the last cab journey he’d ever take.

? ? ?

Van Haeften studied the painting closely for some time before he said, ‘Fifteen million would have been a fair price, had it been the original.’

Christina stared at him. ‘But I saw it in Mr Rosen’s home in Amsterdam only a week ago,’ she eventually managed, her voice rising with every word.

‘I’m sure you did,’ said van Haeften calmly. ‘And the casket, the oak panel and the frame are all contemporary, as is the painting. But sadly, it isn’t by Holbein.’

‘But the letter on the back,’ she protested, ‘proves it’s the original. If you read it, you’ll see that I’m right.’

‘I fear not, Mrs Faulkner.’

‘Read it!’ she demanded.

Van Haeften didn’t protest, knowing only too well that although the client was not always right, one should never contradict them.



Christina was speechless.

‘What would you like me to do with the picture, Mrs Faulkner?’ van Haeften eventually asked.

‘I don’t give a damn what you do with it!’ Christina yelled as she turned and ran out of the gallery. She didn’t stop running until she reached St James’s, where she crossed the road – narrowly avoiding being run over by a black cab – and pushed open the door into the bank. She charged up to the reception desk.

‘Those three men I was with,’ she snapped at the receptionist, still out of breath.

‘They’ve just left, Mrs Faulkner.’

‘Do you know where they went?’

‘No, but they left their two suitcases with another man I did recognize, and I saw him get into a taxi.’

Christina didn’t need to ask for a description of the fourth man.

? ? ?

‘I know you’ll all be glad to hear that the young Sergeant who challenged the bomber is no longer in a critical condition,’ began Holbrooke. ‘The medics think he’ll make a good recovery, although he may lose the sight in his left eye.’

William couldn’t explain why his first thought was of the angry promenader who’d complained about living in a police state after having his backpack searched.

‘And his fiancée?’ asked Jackie quietly.

‘She handed in her resignation this morning. There was nothing I could do to dissuade her. It’s one of the biggest problems we face in Counter Terrorism.’

‘There’s nothing in the morning papers about the incident,’ said William. ‘Should I assume you slammed a D-notice on Fleet Street?’

‘Only just in time,’ said Holbrooke. ‘The Mail’s front page was about to go to press. Their crime correspondent had put two and two together, and although he made about six, it was too close to the truth for comfort.’

‘So can my team stand down and get back to their day jobs?’ asked the Hawk.

‘For the time being, yes. But don’t be surprised if Khalifah has something else planned for us in the not-too-distant future, which, as I’ve already warned Superintendent Warwick, could be even more devastating.’

‘Any ideas?’

Rebecca opened a file that she’d been working on overnight. ‘In a few weeks’ time, England are playing Sweden at a World Cup qualifier. Sixty thousand people will be at Wembley where the security is fairly lax. Then there’s the Ryder Cup—’

‘No,’ said William, ‘they won’t wait that long.’

‘The Edinburgh Festival?’ said Rebecca. ‘It wouldn’t be too difficult to hide someone among the half a million young people who invade that city during August. And there’s the final test match against Australia at the Oval. Sold out.’

‘We don’t have the authority to cover Edinburgh,’ admitted the Hawk. ‘They could plant six suicide bombers along the Royal Mile and we’d be none the wiser.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Holbrooke. ‘I’ll put a full team on to it immediately, and leave you to get on with policing London. I want you to know how grateful I am for the role you played, and not just on the night.’ He gave William a nod as he rose from his place at the other end of the table. ‘It’s been a privilege to work with your team. But for now, you can all get back to protecting the Royal Family.’ He smiled at Rebecca as he left and added, ‘If you’re ever looking for a real job, DS Pankhurst, you know where to find me.’

‘Nail her to the ground,’ said the Hawk as the head of Counter Terrorism left the room.

‘Why didn’t he offer me a job?’ said Paul.

‘If he had,’ said William, ‘we would have reluctantly had to let you go.’