Over My Dead Body (Detective William Warwick #4)(93)

‘If he doesn’t make it to London,’ said the pilot, ‘on your head be it.’

‘I have a feeling you might be right about that,’ said Juan, as the pilot quickly returned to the cockpit. William shook Juan warmly by the hand, before he left the aircraft.

Ross lowered Faulkner into a comfortable leather chair and fastened his seatbelt, while William placed a small package in an overhead locker before they both took their places on either side of the prisoner. The stewards slammed the aircraft door closed and moments later the plane began to taxi towards the south runway.

? ? ?

‘Damn,’ said Booth Watson, as the taxi came to a halt by his side. ‘Damn,’ he repeated before telling the cabbie he’d forgotten his passport, but would be back in a few minutes.

The cabbie smiled. A trip to Heathrow with a sober passenger wasn’t his usual fare at that time in the morning.

As Booth Watson unlocked his front door, he tried to remember if he’d left his passport in chambers. He almost ran to his study. The next word he uttered was also four letters, and it wasn’t damn.

? ? ?

Once the plane had reached its cruising height, William picked up the phone in Faulkner’s armrest and called Danny at home.

‘Get yourself to Heathrow, sharpish,’ he said, before Danny had a chance to speak.

‘Which terminal, sir?’

‘Number one, the private aircraft stand. We should be there at,’ he checked his watch, ‘around five o’clock.’

‘The taxi or a squad car?’

‘A squad car,’ said William. ‘I’m not taking Faulkner back to prison in a taxi.’ After hanging up, he glanced across at the prisoner, who looked as if he was about to emerge from a deep sleep.

‘Which one of us will be calling the commander?’ asked Ross innocently.

‘I will,’ said William. ‘But not until Faulkner’s safely locked up.’

? ? ?

When Booth Watson’s taxi dropped him off at Heathrow fifty minutes later, the first thing he did on entering the airport was to check the departure board. The first flight to Barcelona was due to leave in forty minutes, and there wasn’t another scheduled until a British Airways flight took off in a couple of hours’ time.

He headed for the Iberia desk to be told by the booking clerk that the only seat available was near the back of the plane. He reluctantly handed over his credit card, aware that he couldn’t afford to hang around and wait for a first-class seat on BA.

Once he’d settled in his seat, he tried to concentrate on the problems he’d be expected to deal with once he landed in Barcelona, but a screaming child with its mother on one side of him, and a man on his other who kept up a running conversation with someone across the aisle on whether Arsenal should sack their manager, made that impossible.

? ? ?

‘Where am I?’ demanded a waking voice as the Gulfstream jet touched down at Heathrow and began to taxi towards the far end of the runway.

‘Back where you belong,’ said Ross, without further explanation.

William looked out of the cabin window as the plane taxied to a halt, relieved to see Danny standing by a squad car waiting for them.

‘Stop them, stop them!’ shouted Faulkner at the top of his voice as he was yanked out of his seat and unceremoniously propelled towards the exit. The stewardess ran to the front of the plane and banged on the cockpit door as Faulkner was pushed down the steps, stumbling onto the tarmac, where Danny caught him in his arms like a long-lost lover. William and Ross quickly followed and bundled the prisoner into the back of the car as Danny climbed back behind the wheel.

‘Good morning, sir,’ said Danny, glancing in his rear-view mirror. ‘Should I wait and see what those two gentlemen want, before we leave?’

William and Ross looked out of the back window to see the pilot and an airport official running towards them.

‘No,’ said William firmly. ‘Get moving.’

Danny didn’t need any encouragement to shoot off, siren blaring, lights flashing.

? ? ?

When Booth Watson’s flight finally landed in Barcelona two hours later, he was reminded just how long it could take to disembark when you didn’t travel first class. The same queue was waiting for him at passport control, and it was some time before he got through customs and emerged out into the morning sun, only to be greeted with another long queue standing in line for a taxi.

When Booth Watson eventually reached the front, he climbed into the back of a cab and checked his watch. His first thought was: would Miles still be alive? His second: what he would do if he wasn’t.

? ? ?

‘Booth Watson’s flight from Heathrow has just landed,’ said Sanchez as he put down the phone. ‘So you can release Collins and take him back to the house. Make sure they both arrive around the same time.’

The watch agente unlocked the cell door and stood aside to allow the irate prisoner out. He’d left his breakfast untouched. When Collins reached the top of the steps, he found Lieutenant Sanchez waiting for him. He looked him in the eye and said, ‘If he dies, on your head be it.’

Collins was the second person who had told him that this morning, and Juan suspected that, when he reported to his captain later, he might hear the same opinion expressed for a third time.

? ? ?

Faulkner didn’t stop protesting as the squad car shot out of the airport and onto the main road. It took all of William’s and Ross’s strength just to restrain him. Ross finally decided on a delaying tactic, and thrust an elbow sharply into Faulkner’s groin with all the strength he could muster. Faulkner doubled up, and his protests turned to a whimpering moan.