Nothing Ventured(43)

“I’m halfway there,” said Hawksby.

“Over the years, several attempts have been made to locate the wreck and recover the coins, but without success.”

“And Carter thinks he might get lucky, despite the odds?”

“I don’t believe he’s relying on luck, sir,” said Jackie. “While DC Warwick was swanning around Rome, I returned to London and had the photographs he took of Carter’s shed enlarged by our specialists here in Scotland Yard. They confirmed one thing without question: DC Warwick is no David Bailey.”

They all laughed.

“However, after one of our experts had studied the photographs more closely, she came up with a very interesting suggestion.” Jackie handed each member of the team an enlarged photo of the workbench in Carter’s shed.

“What are we looking for?” asked Hawksby, as he studied the image.

“You’ll notice all the usual equipment required by any engraver—chisels of various sizes, wire brushes, even a nail file. But if you look more closely, you can also see what Carter is working on.” She handed around three enlargements showing the top of the workbench for the team to consider.

“It looks like a half crown to me,” said Hawksby.

“Same size, same shape, different value,” said William, “as I discovered when I visited a numismatist at the British Museum, who told me he’s fairly sure it’s a Spanish cob, which as you can see is dated 1649.”

“No doubt you asked him its value?”

“He had no idea, sir, but recommended I visit Dix Noonan Webb in Mayfair, who are specialists in the field. Mr. Noonan showed me a similar example of a Spanish cob coin from one of his recent catalogs which sold for just over a thousand pounds.”

“Multiply that by seven hundred,” said Lamont, “and Carter would end up with more than seven hundred thousand.”

“I think I know what he’s up to,” said William.

“Spit it out, Warwick,” said Hawksby.

“I suspect that all the old silver he’s been buying recently has been melted down, and he’s spent the last few months stamping seven hundred newly minted Spanish cob coins.”

“If you look at the photographs more closely,” said Jackie, “you’ll see something we might have missed in normal circumstances.” She pointed to the bottom left-hand corner of one of the pictures.

“It looks like a bucket of water to me,” said Hawksby.

“That was my first thought,” said William, “until I think I’ve worked out Carter’s next move.”

“Don’t keep us all in suspense,” said Hawksby.

“I suspect he intends to return to Rome as soon as possible, collect his license, and then be seen sailing off into the sunset in search of seabed treasure. A few days later he’ll sail back into port bearing a wooden casket full of silver coins. And if you look more closely at photo 2B, you’ll even see the casket that will be raised from the bottom of the sea.”

It was a few moments before Lamont said, “And the bucket of water?”

“Seawater,” said William.

“Of course,” said Hawksby.

“But I thought seabed treasure was the property of the government in whose waters it’s found,” said Lamont.

“That’s correct, sir,” said William. “But the recovery team would typically receive a fifty percent finder’s fee, which is probably why Booth Watson turned up.”

“Did I hear you correctly?” said Hawksby.

“You did, sir. Booth Watson entered the building a few minutes after we arrived.”

“You certainly save the best for last, William,” said the commander. “Do you have any idea why he was there?”

“Monti said he checked all the paperwork meticulously, before he let Carter sign anything.”

“So this could be just another of Faulkner’s many enterprises,” said Jackie.

“Booth Watson does have other clients,” said the commander. “But I agree, the odds must be on Faulkner, who can expect to get around three hundred and fifty thousand pounds once Carter’s retrieved the coins.”

“I suspect Carter won’t get much more than a few thousand,” said Lamont, “now we know who’s behind this scam.”

“Why do you say that, Bruce?”

“I’ve banged him up three times in the past ten years, but never for anything on this scale. And as Lieutenant Monti discovered, when Carter applied for the license to search for sunken treasure he handed over five thousand pounds in cash to the Italian Naval Office in Rome, although the standard fee is less than half that amount.”

“That explains why he never let the holdall out of his sight,” said William. “And why, according to Monti, it was empty when he left the building.”

“No doubt he was hoping that his application would mysteriously find its way to the top of the pile,” suggested Jackie.

“In one,” said Lamont.

“That may well be the case,” said William, “but Lieutenant Monti made it clear that if we want Carter’s application to be held up indefinitely, or even rejected, all we have to do is ask.”

“Bruce?”

“Carter hasn’t committed any crime on British soil that we’re aware of, and the only way we’re going to find out what he’s up to is to tell the Italians we have no objection to him being granted a license. In fact, the sooner the better.”