Turn a Blind Eye

6

‘We have a full agenda today,’ said the commander, taking his place at the head of the table, ‘so don’t let’s waste any time. Can we begin by closing the file on the Miles Faulkner case? DI Warwick.’

‘DS Roycroft and I,’ began William, ‘travelled to Geneva last Thursday to attend Faulkner’s funeral. And while he may not roast in hell, at least we saw him burn on earth. The merry widow returned to England a few days later with far more than her ex-husband’s ashes, which she scattered over her land at Limpton, so we can indeed close the file on the late Miles Faulkner.’

‘You look disappointed, inspector,’ said the Hawk, raising an eyebrow.

‘I am, sir. I’m reminded of the words of Hilaire Belloc on learning of the death of his Member of Parliament. “Here richly, with ridiculous display, the politician’s corpse was laid away. While all of his acquaintance sneered and slanged, I wept: for I had longed to see him hanged.” ’

The team burst out laughing and banged the table with the palms of their hands.

‘And what are Mrs Faulkner’s plans for the future?’

‘She will remain in England until the paintings have all been sold, and then she’ll join her sister in Florida.’

‘I won’t miss either of them,’ admitted the commander as he closed one file and opened another. ‘Let’s move on to DS Summers. Are we any nearer to proving he’s worth investigating? He seems to have a record second to none as a thief catcher.’

‘And second to none for letting other villains off the hook,’ said Paul. ‘Which might explain why he’s so successful.’

‘Speculation and proof are two different things, DS Adaja,’ the Hawk reminded him.

‘I agree, sir,’ said Paul, ‘but both DC Pankhurst and PC Bailey have come up with some interesting facts.’

William looked across the table at Paul, who over the past couple of years had become a close friend on and off the field of battle. He wasn’t a clock watcher when it came to fighting crime and, like the Hawk, considered bent coppers even worse than professional criminals.

‘For the past month,’ continued Paul, ‘DC Pankhurst has been shadowing Lamont, while PC Bailey has joined the Romford division as a WPC. Her remit over and above her normal duties is to keep a close eye on Summers and find out if he’s quite as pure as he would have us all believe.’

William turned his attention to the two young constables who had recently joined the unit, and smiled at the thought that they couldn’t have been more different.

DC Pankhurst had proudly announced at her interview that she was a descendant of Emmeline Pankhurst, who had been arrested on numerous occasions as the leader of the suffragettes, and had spent a great deal of her time in prison on hunger strike. William had happily signed up this bright, tenacious young woman to his team. He quickly discovered that he and Paul had to stay wide awake just to keep up with her. She didn’t hesitate to correct them without ever appearing to be insubordinate.

By contrast, Nicola Bailey had never known her father, who had also spent a great deal of time in prison. She’d left school at fourteen and drifted from job to job, before applying to join the police force. She’d been turned down three times, but Nicky wasn’t someone who gave up easily. William had asked her to join the team because, like Rebecca Pankhurst, she had a mind as sharp as any criminal.

‘DC Pankhurst,’ said Paul, ‘bring us all up to date.’

‘I’ve been keeping a round-the-clock eye on the former Superintendent,’ said Rebecca. ‘There was nothing of interest to report until I followed Lamont onto a Tube train at Aldgate, where he joined his former colleague DS Summers.’

‘There could be a perfectly innocent explanation for that,’ said the Hawk, playing devil’s advocate. ‘Don’t forget that he and Summers served together at Romford, so they might just be friends.’

‘Then why meet at the far end of the rear carriage of an almost-empty Tube train for their innocent get-together,’ said Pankhurst, ‘when they could have had a pint at their local?’

‘Then what happened?’ asked the Hawk, chastised but not chastened.

‘They talked for about fifteen minutes, no more, before Summers got off at Westminster, while Lamont travelled two more stops before changing trains at Victoria.’

‘That’s all I need,’ said the Hawk.

‘When Lamont left his home in Hammersmith the following morning—’ Rebecca checked her notes — ‘at nine fifty-one, he walked to a nearby phone box, and made a one-minute call. I wondered why he didn’t make the call from his home.’

‘Perhaps he didn’t want his wife to know who he was calling?’ suggested the Hawk.

‘His wife was at the hairdresser at the time, sir.’

‘Can it get any worse?’ asked the Hawk.

‘I’m afraid so, sir,’ interjected PC Bailey. ‘After DS Summers came off duty yesterday evening, I followed him to the nearest railway station. He switched to the Tube at Liverpool Street, and three stops later was once again joined by Lamont.’

‘In another empty rear carriage, no doubt,’ said Paul.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘What are they up to?’ said William, almost to himself.

‘All I can tell you, sir, is that Summers handed Lamont a thick brown envelope, and then he got off at the next station.’

‘Did you continue to follow him?’

‘No, sir. DS Adaja had instructed me to remain on board and see where Summers got off.’

‘Enlighten me,’ said the Hawk.

‘Monument. He then returned to Liverpool Street and took the next train back to Romford.’

‘DC Pankhurst, were you still trailing Lamont?’

‘Yes, sir. He returned to his home in Hammersmith, arriving back just before ten.’

‘Do you think he spotted you?’ asked William.

‘It’s possible, but there was no sign he did.’

‘If he’s worked out what you’re up to, you’ll never be sure. Don’t forget he’s an old pro, and quite capable of running circles around you long before you get on the Circle line.’

‘If one of them was to approach either of you,’ said William, ‘do you have cover stories?’

‘Yes, sir,’ said DC Pankhurst. ‘I’m an assistant librarian at Hammersmith Public Library.’

‘Credible,’ said Paul. ‘But it wouldn’t bear too much scrutiny.’

‘I work there every Saturday morning as a volunteer,’ said Rebecca, ‘and the senior librarian knows exactly what to say should a DS Summers Lamont ever get in touch. We were at university together.’

The Hawk touched his forehead. ‘Chapeau,’ he said.

‘And you, PC Bailey?’ asked William.

‘I never went to university, sir. Left school at fourteen.’

They all burst out laughing, except the Hawk.

‘Answer the question, PC Bailey,’ he said.

‘As long as Summers continues to believe I’m just a raw recruit on the beat, I couldn’t have a better front.’

‘Agreed,’ said the Hawk. ‘But if either of you ever has the slightest sense you’ve been sussed, abort the operation and make sure you’re never seen in Romford or on the Circle line again, and I’ll put a replacement team on the job.’

‘Understood,’ said Paul. ‘Especially as Jackie and I can’t risk being seen anywhere near Lamont. But I hope to leave PCs Bailey and Pankhurst on surveillance for as long as possible.’

‘No risks,’ said Hawksby firmly.

‘It may interest you to know, sir,’ said William, ‘that a recent survey conducted on behalf of the Yard found that when women carry out surveillance, they are seventy-two per cent less likely than men to be spotted by their mark.’

‘No risks,’ repeated the commander. ‘Now, let’s move on,’ he said, turning to another file. ‘Are you fully prepared for Rashidi’s trial?’ he asked, turning his attention back to William. ‘Because you’ll need to be more than a yard ahead of that man if we’re going to secure a conviction.’

‘The Crown’s lead prosecutor is confident they have more than enough evidence to put him behind bars for a very long time,’ said William, without mentioning his father’s name.

‘Rock solid?’

‘He left behind a number of hand-tailored suits in the master bedroom of his Brixton flat, along with a dozen shirts from Pink’s of Jermyn Street.’

‘Rashidi’s five foot nine, and of medium build,’ said the Hawk. ‘Booth Watson will claim they could have been made for any one of a thousand customers, including two or three members of the jury.’

‘Not with the initials “A.R.” sewn on the inside pocket he can’t, and according to the labels in the suits, they were all made by Bennett and Reed of Savile Row,’ said William, checking his notebook. ‘I’ve already been in touch with Mr Bennett.’

‘Is he willing to give evidence under oath?’

‘Reluctantly. We may have to pursue a witness summons if we want him to appear.’

‘Don’t we have anything better than suits and shirts as evidence?’ asked the Hawk.

‘A photograph of Rashidi’s mother, that I found on the bedside table in the Brixton apartment,’ said William.

‘That’s more like it,’ said the Hawk. ‘And do we have any more reliable witnesses than a reluctant tailor?’

‘Yes, sir, a Mr Gerald Sangster, who’s turned Queen’s evidence, in exchange for a lesser sentence.’

‘I hope he’s not residing in the same prison as Rashidi,’ said the Hawk. ‘Because if he is, you can be sure he won’t make it to the witness box.’

‘He’s been living in a safe house for the past five months, and we won’t be bringing him in until the opening day of the trial. The former doctor has one piece of evidence that Booth Watson won’t find easy to explain away.’

‘Namely?’

‘He was responsible for making up the drugs before they were distributed by his dealers, and Rashidi checked them regularly before they were allowed onto the streets.’

The Hawk smiled for the first time before asking, ‘How is Rashidi being transported from the prison to the Old Bailey? I ask because he’ll have worked out that’s his only chance of escape.’

‘He’ll be in an armoured van accompanied by three police cars and a dozen outriders,’ said William, ‘along with a helicopter tracking every inch of the route.’

‘So was Faulkner,’ the Hawk reminded him, ‘and he still managed to fool us.’

‘But unlike him,’ said Adaja, ‘Rashidi won’t be stopping off to attend his mother’s funeral on the way.’

‘Just be sure not to lower your guard for one moment, otherwise it will be your funeral he’s attending. That man’s got enough resources to bribe everyone, including the driver and anyone who can fix a set of traffic lights. Don’t forget the trial is set to last for several days. Rashidi won’t make a move on the first day, but the moment we begin to relax...’

‘We’re on top of it,’ said William.

‘Are you also fully prepared to be torn apart by Booth Watson from the moment you enter the witness box?’

‘Over-prepared, sir. I spent last weekend being grilled by my sister Grace, who didn’t show me any mercy.’

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said the Hawk, ‘because Booth Watson considers policemen fair game, even more so when they’re the son of the Crown’s leading counsel.’

First, he had to decide on which day of the week he would carry out the deception, aware that he now had a shadow. He settled on the Sunday before the trial. Next, what time of the day or night he was least likely to be noticed; he chose 3 a.m., as only a skeleton crew would be on duty at that time in the morning. And finally, should he be in uniform or in mufti? He came to the conclusion he’d be less likely to be remembered if he was dressed in civilian clothes.

At three o’clock the following Sunday morning, he was standing on the pavement outside Scotland Yard, a small package under his left arm.

He used his entry pass to open the glass door before he approached the reception desk, which was manned by a young woman reading a fashion magazine. He flicked open his warrant card.

‘Good morning, superintendent,’ she said, slipping the magazine under the counter.

‘Just got to pick up something I left on my desk,’ Lamont explained. ‘Shouldn’t be too long.’

‘Of course, sir,’ she said, swivelling the night log around so he could sign in. But he was already on the way to the lift, and she didn’t feel she could leave the desk to chase after a superintendent. She’d have to catch him on the way out.

He kept his back to her while he waited for the lift to arrive, and stepped inside immediately the doors opened. He then pressed 7, Administration, the least likely department to have anyone working at three o’clock on a Sunday morning.

When the doors opened, he got out into an unlit corridor and waited for a few moments before walking to the far end, where he opened the fire-escape door and jogged down the stone steps to the basement. He stepped into another unlit corridor, but didn’t turn the light on. He knew exactly where he was going.

He walked slowly along the corridor until he reached the end door. Having already checked who’d be on duty, he felt sure the nightwatchman would either be fast asleep or reading the Racing Post. Only the most idle volunteered for the early-morning shift, knowing they would still be paid even if they occasionally dozed off.

‘Good morning, Sam,’ he said as he marched in, disturbing the ancient constable’s slumbers. ‘Just need to check on something. Won’t be a moment.’

‘Be my guest, super,’ said Sam, hoping he wouldn’t be put on report.

Lamont walked straight past him, pushed his way through another door and headed for the evidence room. It only took him a few minutes to find what he was looking for, and to carry out the switch. The small package fitted neatly into his raincoat pocket.

‘Goodnight,’ he said when he returned to find Sam head down, trying to assess the runners and riders for the 4.30 at Kempton Park the following day.

‘Night, super,’ he replied, without looking up.

He took the stairs to the ground floor, where the early-morning cleaners were signing in. He walked quickly across the entrance hall towards the door, ignoring the receptionist’s cry of ‘Excuse me, sir!’ By the time she’d thought about chasing after him, he was already out of sight.

When he reached Buckingham Gate, he hailed a taxi. A necessary expense. Couldn’t risk someone recognizing him on the long walk back to Hammersmith. Police officers look at you more carefully at that time of night. He settled back in the corner of the cab, where the driver wouldn’t be able to see him in his rear-view mirror, and smiled. The whole exercise had been carried out in less than fifteen minutes. Tomorrow morning, he would collect the other £8,000, and his problems would be sorted. But for how long?