Turn a Blind Eye

27

‘We’ve got a problem.’

‘Don’t spare me,’ said Miles.

‘Not over the phone.’

‘That bad?’

‘I’m afraid so,’ said Booth Watson. ‘Where will you be later this morning?’

‘I’ve got a board meeting in the City at ten.’

‘Cancel it. Join me in chambers as quickly as possible.’

‘But I’m chairing the meeting—’

‘You may not be chairman by this evening.’

‘That bad?’

Danny ignored the double yellow lines, restricted areas and short-term parking signs as he drove the commander into Gatwick Airport and headed towards a gate the general public were unaware of.

A guard checked Commander Hawksby’s warrant card before pointing to the far end of the runway, where he was met by Chief Superintendent Bob Fenton, the head of airport security, and three uniformed officers.

‘Good morning, Bob,’ said the Hawk as he stepped out of the car and the two men shook hands. ‘Can you bring me up to date?’

‘Flight zero one six took off from Malaga at nine thirty-five this morning,’ said Fenton. ‘About fifteen minutes behind schedule. It’s due to land in about thirty minutes.’

‘Perfect timing,’ said the Hawk, who returned to his car and asked Danny to get DS Adaja on the radio. A few minutes later a familiar voice came crackling down the line.

‘Morning, sir.’

‘Morning, Paul. Summers is safely on board, and his flight is about half an hour away from Gatwick, so no one can get in touch with him. I want you to move in and arrest Castle, and at the same time DS Roycroft’s team should carry out a meticulous search of his home. I’m looking for any items that look expensive and out of place. Drugs and numbered notes would be a bonus.’

‘What about Summers’s house?’

‘Tell Jackie to take the place apart. If you come across a diamond ring, call me immediately, because that’s all the evidence we need.’

‘DS Roycroft DC Pankhurst and her team are already stationed outside Summers’s home waiting for you to give the order,’ said Paul. ‘On your command, the search party will immediately move into action, while I go to the local nick and introduce myself to DI Castle.’

‘Get on with it,’ said the commander as he handed the radio back to Danny.

‘Zero one six has requested permission to land,’ said Fenton. ‘They’ll taxi to gate forty-three where your colleague and two of my men are already waiting. Perhaps we should join them.’

‘Superintendent Watts on the line,’ said Danny, handing the radio back to the Hawk.

‘Good morning, Chris,’ said the Hawk to the new head of the drugs squad. ‘Was Jimmy Turner expecting you and a few friends to drop in for breakfast this morning?’

‘No, sir. He was still in bed when I raided his home and arrested him along with three other members of his family.’

‘What did you charge them with?’

‘Possession of eight kilos of cocaine, among several other illegal substances. Some of which just happened to be in a Sainsbury’s bag.’

The Hawk smiled. ‘I look forward to telling DS Summers the good news when I arrest him in a few minutes’ time.’

‘I’ll see you back at the station, sir,’ said Watts. ‘Let’s hope they’ve got enough cells to accommodate them.’

‘Well done, Chris. I’ll try to remember to let the commissioner know the role you played.’

‘I’m sure you will, sir,’ said Watts, laughing.

‘Let’s get going,’ said the Hawk as he passed the radio phone back to Danny. ‘Mustn’t keep DS Summers waiting.’

Miles handed the cab driver a pound note and told him to keep the change. He made his way slowly across Middle Temple, still trying to fathom why Booth Watson wanted to see him so urgently. Two young women walked past him, one pulling a small case, the other wearing a barrister’s gown. He recognized both of them, but they didn’t recognize him.

When he reached No. 1 Fetter Court, he didn’t have to scan the list of names painted on the white brick wall to discover on which floor the head of chambers resided. He climbed the creaky wooden staircase to the second floor and knocked on the door. Not for the first time, he felt like a naughty schoolboy about to face the headmaster’s wrath for failing to hand in his weekly essay.

The door was opened by Miss Plumstead, the head of Chambers’ secretary, who showed him through to Booth Watson’s inner sanctum.

‘Good morning, Captain Neville,’ said Booth Watson, as he waited for his secretary to leave the room.

‘What can possibly be so important that I’m expected to cancel a board meeting and come running?’ said Miles once the door had closed.

‘Mrs Rashidi’s dead.’ Booth Watson paused to allow his client to take in the news. ‘She died peacefully in her sleep yesterday afternoon,’ he said as his client collapsed into the nearest chair.

Miles was silent for some time before he asked, ‘Who did she leave the Raphael to?’

‘She’s left everything, including the Raphael, to the Brompton Oratory, her church in Kensington,’ said Booth Watson, reading directly from the will.

‘That’s all right then,’ said Miles. ‘The Oratory will hang the painting in the church for all its parishioners to worship, and no one will be any the wiser.’

‘That might well have been the case if the Oratory didn’t need a new roof, which will cost over a million pounds. I understand the church council considered it nothing less than a miracle when Raphael’s Madonna appeared at the moment they most needed her.’

‘Then we have to get it back before anyone finds out it’s a fake,’ said Miles. ‘Offer them a million.’

‘That may not be enough. Unfortunately, one of the church wardens is a director of Christie’s, so you can be sure the council will seek his opinion. But I think I may have a solution to the problem.’ At that moment the door opened, and Miss Plumstead appeared with a tray of coffee and biscuits.

‘I would be honoured to be the guest speaker at your Falklands reunion dinner in October, Captain Neville,’ said Booth Watson without missing a beat, as she poured them both coffee.

‘I’ll inform the committee at our next meeting. And we’d hoped you’d propose the health of the club, which I, as secretary, will be replying to,’ said Miles, as Miss Plumstead left the room.

‘So what’s your solution?’ pressed Miles, the moment she had closed the door behind her.

‘As we both know, Raphael’s Madonna di Cesare is a fake and not the original... What makes it worse,’ continued Booth Watson, ‘is when I handed over the picture to Mrs Rashidi, in exchange for her shares in Marcel and Neffe, the contract included the original paperwork and proof of provenance, so neither the Oratory nor Christie’s will have any reason to doubt its authenticity.’

‘So what are you advising me to do?’

‘You have no choice but to buy it back when it comes up for sale at Christie’s. If the Oratory were to discover it’s a fake, it wouldn’t take them long to find out who sold the painting to Mrs Rashidi in the first place, and then work out where the original is.’

‘But I’m dead,’ said Miles. ‘Just in case you’ve forgotten.’

‘And Christina is still very much alive, and this would give her another stick to beat you with because she knows the original is hanging in Monte Carlo.’

‘I still don’t fancy coughing up over a million for a fake when I already own the original.’

‘I sympathize with you, Miles, but it’s a better alternative to spending the next ten years in solitary.’

‘I could kill Christina.’

‘Then you’d end up spending twenty years in solitary. No, I think I’ve come up with a better solution for how to deal with Christina.’

‘Namely?’

‘Marry her.’

Danny drove slowly around the perimeter of the airport before coming to a halt at Gate 43. The commander got out and introduced Fenton to his colleague.

‘Good morning, inspector,’ said Fenton. ‘I hope we haven’t kept you waiting too long.’

‘About six months, sir,’ said William, as he shook hands with the chief superintendent.

‘Well, you won’t have to wait much longer,’ said the Hawk as they watched flight 016 touch down at the far end of the runway and begin to taxi towards them. It took several minutes for the plane to come to a halt at the gate and as it approached, the commander had to hold on to his hat to prevent it being blown off by the thrust of the engines.

Two ground staff pushed a flight of steps towards the aircraft door.

‘Summers and his companion are in row nine, seats A and B,’ said Fenton, checking his booking sheet, ‘so they should be among the first off the plane.’

The plane’s door swung open, and the Hawk walked across to the bottom of the steps and began scanning the passengers as they made their way down onto the tarmac. It wasn’t long before William said, ‘That’s him. Six foot two, navy blazer, jeans and an open-neck shirt.’

‘And I assume that’s Karen Turner behind him,’ said the Hawk.

‘What makes you say that, sir?’ said William.

‘Look at the third finger of her left hand.’

William switched his attention to an attractive blonde who looked as if she had just spent a fortnight in the sun.

‘This is going to be a holiday she’ll never forget,’ said William. ‘Do we arrest both of them?’

‘No, just Summers. I’ll take Miss Turner to one side and relieve her of the engagement ring,’ said the Hawk. ‘Let’s hope they haven’t set a date for the wedding before 2010.’

As Summers and Miss Turner stepped onto the tarmac, five officers headed towards them. William and two young constables blocked Summers’s path, while the commander and a WPC DC Pankhurst took his companion to one side.

‘DS Jerry Summers,’ said William, who produced his warrant card. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Warwick, and I am arresting you on suspicion of handling stolen goods and misconduct in a public office. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’

Summers looked shocked, and quickly glanced back at Karen, only to see her being led away by an older man and a WPC. Two uniformed officers thrust his arms behind his back and handcuffed him before he was taken to the waiting police car. He said nothing.

‘Let me begin this meeting,’ said the commander, ‘by officially welcoming back Detective Inspector Warwick. He’s been on what the civil service call gardening leave, even though he doesn’t have a garden. Whereas in fact, as you all know, for the past five months he’s been operating as my UCO, and kept me well informed, which is why I’ve been able to stay a yard ahead of the rest of you. Even his wife has been kept in the dark, such was the secrecy of this operation.’

Well, not quite, William wanted to say, but decided against it.

‘PC Bailey must have worked it out,’ said Paul, ‘because she tipped William off about Summers’ and Lamont’s visit to the Playboy Club, which proved they were working in tandem.’

‘Nicky certainly played her part by briefing me on why I should go to the Playboy Club that night,’ said William.

‘Agreed,’ said Jackie. ‘But we shouldn’t ignore the fact that PC Bailey withheld vital information for some time, which could have speeded up our investigation.’

‘Perhaps we should also remember,’ said DC Pankhurst, ‘that she doesn’t intend to return to the force after her baby is born.’

‘Which would solve one problem,’ said the commander. ‘Because I’m still to be convinced she played any part in Summers’s illegal activities.’

‘Though she was happy to flaunt an expensive diamond ring given to her by Summers,’ said Jackie, ‘which she must have known he couldn’t afford, and therefore had to be stolen.’

‘But she gave it back to him,’ Rebecca reminded her, ‘and left the Garrard’s box where I was certain to find it. If she’s guilty of anything, it’s poor judgement, something all of us have been at some time.’

‘If she did apply to rejoin the Met in the future,’ said Jackie, ‘would you be willing to turn a blind eye?’

‘She must know that would be unwise, given the circumstances,’ said the commander, looking directly at DC Pankhurst. ‘Now, let’s move on to Summers and the Payne family, and what we have planned for them. Inspector Warwick?’

‘I arrested Detective Sergeant Summers at Gatwick Airport yesterday morning, and charged him with handling stolen goods and misconduct in a public office. To my surprise he was granted bail — until I found out that Booth Watson was his defence counsel.’

‘Summers couldn’t begin to afford his fees,’ said DS Adaja.

‘But Karen Turner’s father certainly can,’ said William. ‘And he doesn’t want his daughter’s fiancé ending up in jail. So we can expect Summers to appear at the Old Bailey in about six months’ time, which should give us more than enough time to prepare our case.’

‘And him to prepare his,’ said the Hawk. ‘What about Castle?’

‘We didn’t find enough evidence to charge him,’ said Jackie, not bothering to open her file.

‘You didn’t find anything incriminating in his home?’ pressed the Hawk.

‘A brand-new TV and a gold cigarette lighter he claims is a family heirloom. Not nearly enough to be confident of securing a conviction.’

‘He’ll still have to resign,’ said the commander, ‘once everyone works out why his home was searched.’

‘And Lamont?’ asked William.

‘I couldn’t lay a glove on him,’ admitted Rebecca. ‘My team didn’t find any money with the serial numbers we’re looking for at his home, or anything else that would implicate him, so like Jackie, I couldn’t charge him. Impersonating a police officer and spending an evening at the Playboy Club with his friend Summers is a long way from being beyond reasonable doubt.’

‘So he’s going to get away with it again?’ said William.

‘Unless DS Roycroft has something worthwhile to tell us following their latest get-together,’ said the Hawk.

‘He was on a fishing expedition, sir,’ said Jackie. ‘Told me he’d read about Summers’s arrest in the press and wondered if we’d picked up the connection between the two of them.’

‘What did you tell him?’ asked William.

‘I looked suitably surprised when he told me he’d been an inspector at Romford when Summers was a recruit, but claimed he couldn’t remember him.’

‘Then he’s got a very short memory,’ said the Hawk. ‘Did you let slip the one piece of information we wanted him to know about?’

‘Yes, I did, sir.’

‘And were you appropriately rewarded?’

Jackie opened her handbag, took out a brown envelope and handed it over to the commander, who tore it open and extracted a thick wad of five-pound notes. He distributed them among the team, who immediately set about checking the serial numbers, but without producing any cries of ‘Gotcha!’

‘I suppose that would have been too much to hope for,’ said the Hawk as he put the money back in the envelope and handed it to William. ‘See that it’s logged into the property store, along with DS Roycroft’s report.’

William nodded.

‘So for now, let’s concentrate on Summers. Did you find anything incriminating in his flat, DS Roycroft?’

‘No, sir,’ said Jackie. ‘It’s somewhat ironic that PC Bailey trashed the place, because that could be what saves him.’

‘How’s that possible?’ asked the Hawk.

‘She destroyed all the relevant evidence. We found what was left of it on a local council tip.’

‘That wasn’t the reason she did it,’ said Rebecca.

‘Possibly not,’ said Jackie, ‘but it might get her boyfriend off the hook.’

‘He wasn’t her boyfriend by then.’

‘Cut it out, you two,’ said William sharply, ‘and try to remember that we’ll be needing PC Bailey to act as a defence witness at Summers’s trial.’ He turned his attention back to Jackie. ‘So what it comes down to, DS Roycroft, is that you didn’t find anything that could be used as evidence?’

‘Just a silver letter rack, a couple of designer watches and a few pounds in cash, but none of the serial numbers matched up with our original batch.’

‘However, thanks to Summers’s arrogance, greed, overconfidence, call it what you will,’ said the Hawk, ‘we’ve got the diamond ring, which should be more than enough to send him down and set a trap for Lamont. Congratulations to you all on a job well done. But remember, by the time the case comes to court, you can be sure that Summers will be able to explain away the ring, the designer watches, the silver letter rack, and anything else we come up with. So none of us can afford to relax until we see him being driven away from the Old Bailey in a Black Maria, and not driving himself off in his latest Jag.’

‘Would you like to hold him?’ said Nicky, as she handed the baby to Rebecca.

‘You’re so lucky,’ said Rebecca, cradling the little bundle in her arms.

‘I don’t always feel that way,’ admitted Nicky, ‘considering that Jake may not be seeing his father until he’s a teenager.’

‘You can always visit him in jail.’

‘Not while he’s engaged to another woman. In any case, I’ll never allow my son to see the inside of a prison. That’s how they get used to the idea.’

‘Does that mean you’ve agreed to give evidence against Summers?’

‘The Hawk didn’t give me a lot of choice, unless I wanted to join him in the dock.’

‘Your evidence could prove crucial,’ said Rebecca as she handed the little boy back to his mother.

‘I’m aware of that,’ said Nicky quietly. ‘I won’t let you down this time.’

‘You still love him, don’t you?’

It was some time before PC Bailey responded. ‘Yes, but that won’t stop me giving vital evidence that will put Jerry away, even though it means I’ll also end up serving a life sentence.’

There was a gentle tap on the door of Beth’s office. Before she could respond, it opened and Christina swept in. She was wearing an Armani suit and a silk Hermès scarf and carrying a Gucci handbag that wouldn’t have left anyone in doubt why she suffered from the illusion of entitlement, not unlike a minor member of the Royal Family.

It amused Beth that Christina never made an appointment to visit her at the gallery. Not only did she assume her friend would be there whenever she called, but she would always be available. Her talented accomplices, Rembrandt, Rubens and Vermeer, didn’t harm her cause.

‘Lovely to see you,’ said Beth, as if she had nothing better to do. She kissed Christina on both cheeks. ‘To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?’ she added.

‘I was just passing and thought I’d drop by.’

Beth knew only too well Christina was never just passing. She always had a motive for her unannounced visits. She sat down in the most comfortable chair in the room, to indicate this wasn’t going to be a short meeting.

‘I have a couple of pieces of news I wanted to share with you.’

Beth took the seat opposite the Fitzmolean’s most generous benefactor, interested to discover what had caused her to rise so early that morning.

‘But first, how is my favourite inspector?’

‘He’s spending most of the time preparing for a major corruption trial at the Old Bailey, when he’ll have to be at his best, because he’s up against Booth Watson again.’

‘Not a man I’ve ever cared for,’ said Christina. ‘I much prefer your father-in-law.’

‘Sir Julian will be representing the Crown on this occasion, which doesn’t make life any easier for William. But do tell, why did you want to see me?’

‘Ralph has asked me to marry him.’

‘And you said?’

‘Yes! I do so love the man.’

‘Congratulations,’ said Beth, attempting to look suitably delighted, although she couldn’t help recalling that the last time she’d seen Christina was at Elena’s, and it wasn’t Ralph’s leg she had a hand on.

‘It’s beautiful,’ said Beth when Christina thrust out her left hand to reveal a simple diamond solitaire, looking a little lost among its more sparkling rivals.

‘Have you fixed a date?’

‘August the twenty-second.’

‘Weren’t you meant to be sailing to New York on the Alden around that time?’

‘I was, but that’s the only Saturday before the end of September when Limpton parish church isn’t already booked for a wedding. So rather than wait until then, we decided to ditch the trip in favour of the more important event. Which was the other reason I wanted to see you. We wondered if you’d like to take our place?’

‘You must be joking,’ said Beth. ‘We couldn’t afford steerage on the Alden!’

Christina burst out laughing. ‘No, you’d simply take over our state room, as we weren’t able to cancel the booking at such short notice, If the truth be known, you’d be doing us a favour.’ She paused to allow Beth to recover. ‘Unless, of course, you think William might object?’

‘If he does,’ said Beth, ‘I’ll go without him.’

‘Good. Then that’s settled. But there’s something even more important I need to discuss with you.’

Beth wondered what could possibly be more important than getting married.

‘To celebrate our betrothal, Ralph and I would like to present the Fitzmolean with an appropriate gift to mark the occasion.’

‘How generous of you,’ said Beth, although she couldn’t help wondering what the word ‘appropriate’ meant.

‘As I’m sure you know, my darling, a Raphael is coming up for auction in the autumn sales, and we both felt the Fitzmolean is where that particular lady should spend the rest of her days.’

‘You’re not referring to the Madonna di Cesare, by any chance?’ asked Beth, not attempting to hide her excitement.

‘The very same.’

‘But wasn’t that painting originally part of Miles’s collection?’

‘Yes, but he gave it to a friend just before he died. However, I know he’d originally intended to leave it to the Fitzmolean in his will.’

‘What an incredibly generous gesture,’ said Beth, almost lost for words.

‘There is one small condition attached to the gift.’

Of course there is, thought Beth, but remained silent.

‘I’ll be in Monte Carlo with Ralph when the auction takes place, and will need someone to bid for the painting on my behalf. I couldn’t think of anyone better than you to do my bidding.’

‘I’m flattered. But wouldn’t it be more appropriate for Tim Knox to represent you? He is, after all, the gallery’s director,’ said Beth as she began to rummage around in the bottom drawer of her desk in search of the latest sales catalogues so she could check the picture’s high and low estimates.

‘Eight hundred thousand to one million,’ said Christina, before Beth had turned to Lot 25, Raphael’s Madonna di Cesare, the property of a lady.

‘And how high would you allow me to bid?’

‘A million should see off any rivals.’

‘That’s way beyond the gallery’s limit, so I’d need some form of security.’

‘I thought you might say that,’ said Christina. She opened her handbag, took out a cheque and handed it to Beth.

Beth’s hand started trembling when she saw the figure of £1,000,000.

‘Of course, if someone outbids you, you won’t need to cash the cheque, but that seems unlikely.’

‘What I don’t know,’ said Beth, ‘is how to begin to thank you.’

‘Wait until the Madonna is hanging on the wall of the Fitzmolean before you do that,’ said Christina, ‘and don’t forget, it has to remain our little secret.’

‘Yes, of course,’ said Beth, although she knew there was one person she would have to tell. So did Christina.

‘Don’t forget the Summers trial opens on Monday,’ the Hawk reminded them. ‘However, there are still a couple of jobs that need to be covered before the jury is selected.’

William and Jackie opened their notebooks.

‘DS Roycroft, I want you to arrange another meeting with Lamont. Tell him something has arisen that he needs to know about immediately.’

‘What has arisen?’ asked Jackie.

‘I want you to warn him that while the trial is taking place a team of surveillance officers will be tailing him twenty-four/seven.’

‘What will I say if he asks why they’re tailing him?’

‘He’ll know why,’ said the Hawk.

Jackie closed her notebook.

‘I haven’t got enough officers available for a full surveillance operation,’ admitted William.

‘You won’t need them. It will be enough for Lamont to believe he’s being watched to ensure he doesn’t take any risks. Which brings me on to someone who doesn’t give a damn about taking risks. “Bones” Turner.’

William frowned at the mention of Jimmy Turner’s youngest son, whose sole purpose in life seemed to be ensuring that members of his family were found not guilty whenever the odds were stacked against them. He didn’t bother with bribes or blackmail. He’d discovered the threat of broken bones or a car crash was so much more persuasive.

‘He’s currently out on probation having served two years of a four-year sentence for GBH,’ said Paul.

‘Then find any excuse to put him back inside for a couple of months until the trial is over.’

‘He’s notorious for turning up late for his weekly meetings with the probation officer. I’ll have two officers waiting for him next time, who can ship him straight back to Pentonville, and leave him there until the trial’s over.’

‘Good. While we’re on the subject of the trial, William, I hope you’re well prepared to be cross-examined by Booth Watson this time?’

‘I can’t wait,’ admitted William, ‘and intend to mention the superb, magnificent expensive diamond ring again and again, given the slightest opportunity.’