Nothing Ventured(69)

“We have a forwarding address in Sicily where I think his family comes from.”

Lamont threw his arms in the air. “I should have been born in Italy,” he muttered as William wrote down another suggestion for the Hawk to consider.

“One more question, if I may,” said Hawksby. “Can I ask who conducted the negotiations on behalf of Carter?”

“One moment please, commander, while I check.”

William wrote down a name and waited for the captain to confirm it.

“Ah yes, here it is,” said Loretti. “A lawyer from Lincoln’s Inn, in London. A Mr. Booth Watson QC.”

“Thank you, captain,” said Hawksby, trying not to sound exasperated.

“My pleasure, commander. It is always a privilege to work alongside our colleagues in the Metropolitan Police.”

Hawksby slammed the phone down as Lamont repeated the same four-letter word again and again.

“Why don’t we go ahead and arrest Carter anyway?” said William calmly.

“And break off any relationship we still have with the Italian police? No, I don’t think that would please the politicians in either country.”

“So there’s absolutely nothing we can do about it?” asked William.

“Except shoot Miles Faulkner, and hope there’s a bullet left over for Booth Watson,” said Lamont.

“Calm down, Bruce, we have no proof that Faulkner is involved. Let’s take a deep breath and move on.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” said Lamont, “but there was one more question I would have liked you to ask.” Hawksby indulged him with a nod. “How many people who work in the Italian Naval Office also took early retirement?” he said before storming out of the room.

William was about to follow when Hawksby said, “Don’t forget your files, DC Warwick.”

“But I didn’t—” began William, as he turned around and saw two thick files lying on the table. He picked them up and left the room without another word. When he arrived back in his office he found Lamont punching a telephone directory.

“Faulkner or Carter?” asked William innocently.

“The system,” barked Lamont. “That always gives the crooks an advantage.”

William sat down at his desk and opened the first of the two files Hawksby had left on the table. He only had to turn a few pages to realize what a risk the commander was taking.



* * *



“Where did you get these?” asked Grace after a cursory glance at the contents.

“I can’t tell you,” said William.

She continued turning the pages. “They look promising, but I’ll have to read them more thoroughly when I get home this evening, and then brief my leader first thing in the morning.”

“Does that mean Dad has agreed to visit Mr. Rainsford in Pentonville?”

“Yes. He spent the rest of the weekend reading the transcripts from the original trial, accompanied by ums, ahs, and even the occasional ‘disgraceful.’”

“So does he think there might be a chance…”

“No, he does not,” said Grace firmly. “However, he does think that he owes it to you to visit Mr. Rainsford before he offers his considered opinion.”

“Can I come along?”

“Yes, but on one condition.”

“And what might that be?”

“When Father begins to cross-examine Mr. Rainsford, you will not, under any circumstances, interrupt him. If you do, he will leave the meeting and withdraw from the case altogether.”

“I still want to come.”

“Then don’t take his threat lightly.”

“Will you be there too?”

“Yes, he’s appointed me as his junior for the case, and given me the unenviable task of coming up with some fresh evidence that would make it possible for him to apply for a retrial.”

“Anything so far?”

“Nothing, but it’s early days. And if I’m going to read these files on DI Stern and DC Clarkson before midnight, I’d better get started.”

“Will you let your friend Clare read them?”

“She’s agreed to be the instructing solicitor on the case.”

“That’s good of her,” said William. “Now we’ll just have to wait to hear Dad’s verdict.”

“Just be thankful he’s in your corner. Because if he thinks there’s been a miscarriage of justice, he’ll not only come out fighting like the heavyweight he is, but he’ll go the whole fifteen rounds.”





25


Sir Julian, Grace, and William each made their way to HMP Pentonville by different modes of transport: William by bus from Fulham—two changes; Grace by tube from Notting Hill—one change; and Sir Julian in a chauffeur-driven car from Shoreham in Kent.

They all met up in reception, where a prison officer signed them in.

“Rainsford’s waiting for you,” said the officer, before accompanying them to the interview room. Arthur Rainsford rose as they entered the glass cube and shook hands with his three visitors.

“I don’t know how to thank you for your kindness, Sir Julian,” he said. “I feel I already know your son because whenever Beth visits me, she talks of little else. Though I find it somewhat ironic that my daughter fell in love with a detective, as my experience of policemen hasn’t been particularly happy.”