‘These SIO meetings are held every Monday morning, DC Adaja,’ said the commander, ‘to bring us all up to date on how any major investigations are progressing.’
‘Or not progressing,’ said Lamont.
‘Let’s move on,’ said the Hawk, ignoring the interruption. ‘Is there any more news on Faulkner?’
‘His wife Christina’s been in touch again,’ said William. ‘She’s asked to see me.’
‘Has she indeed. Any clues?’
‘No, sir. I’ve no idea what she wants. But she makes no secret of the fact that she’s just as keen as we are to see her husband behind bars. So, I don’t imagine she’s suggesting tea at the Ritz simply to sample their clotted cream scones.’
‘Mrs Faulkner will be well aware of any other criminal activities her husband is involved in, which would be useful for us to know about,’ said Lamont, ‘in advance. But I wouldn’t trust that woman an inch.’
‘Neither would I,’ said Hawksby. ‘But if I had to choose between Faulkner and his wife, I consider her the lesser of two evils. But only by half an inch.’
‘I could always turn the invitation down.’
‘No way,’ said Lamont. ‘We may never get a better chance to put Faulkner behind bars, and don’t let’s forget, however minor the offence, because of the judge’s suspended sentence, it would put him inside for at least four years.’
‘True enough,’ said the Hawk. ‘But, DS Warwick, you can be sure Faulkner will be watching us just as closely as we’re watching him, and he’s certain to have a PI tailing his wife around the clock, until the divorce is finally settled. So while tea at the Ritz is acceptable, dinner is not. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Abundantly, sir, and I’m sure Beth would agree with you.’
‘And never forget that Mrs Faulkner’s slips of the tongue have always been well rehearsed. And she’s also well aware that everything she tells you will be repeated word for word the moment you arrive back at the Yard.’
‘Probably even before her chauffeur has dropped her off at the flat in Eaton Square,’ added Lamont.
‘Right, let’s get back to the matter in hand. There are several cases you’ll have to brief the new Art and Antiques Squad on before you start work on your new assignment.’
‘You were about to tell us, sir, before DC Adaja joined us, how the new unit will differ from any other existing drugs squads.’
‘I can’t tell you too much at the moment,’ said the Hawk, ‘but you will have only one purpose, and it won’t be to catch low-level dealers selling cannabis on the street to pot heads.’ Suddenly everyone was wide awake. ‘The commissioner wants us to identify a man whose name we don’t know, and whose whereabouts we can’t be sure of, other than that he lives and works somewhere south of the river in the Greater London area. However, we do know what his day job is.’ The Hawk opened a file marked Top Secret.
2
‘SO, HAVE YOU passed your sergeant’s exam,’ asked his father, ‘or are you destined to be a detective constable for the rest of your life?’
William’s expression gave nothing away, as if he were facing the eminent QC from the witness box.
‘One day your son will be the commissioner,’ said Beth, giving her prospective father-in-law a warm smile.
‘I’m still waiting to hear the results of the exam,’ sighed William, as he winked at his fiancée.
‘I’m sure you will have passed with flying colours, my dear,’ said his mother. ‘But if your father were to take the same exam, I wouldn’t be quite as confident.’
‘That’s something we can all agree on,’ said his sister.
‘A judgement that’s made without evidence or facts to support it,’ said Sir Julian, as he rose from his place and began to circle the room. ‘Tell me, what form does this examination take?’ he demanded, clutching the lapels of his jacket as if he were addressing a wavering jury.
‘It falls into three parts,’ said William. ‘Physical, which includes a five-mile run that has to be completed in under forty minutes.’
‘Not much hope of my achieving that,’ admitted Sir Julian, as he continued to circle the room.
‘Self-defence, where I just about held my own.’
‘No chance with that one either,’ said Sir Julian, ‘unless it was a verbal attack rather than physical.’
‘And then, finally, you have to swim three lengths of the pool in uniform, holding a truncheon, without sinking.’
‘I’m exhausted just thinking about it,’ said Grace.
‘Your father’s failed on all three counts so far,’ said his mother, ‘so he would certainly have to spend the rest of his life as a constable on the beat.’
‘Does the police force have any interest in mental acuity,’ demanded Sir Julian, as he came to a halt in front of them, ‘or is it just about who can do the most press-ups?’
William didn’t admit that there wasn’t actually a physical test, and he’d simply been winding his father up. But he was still determined not to let the old man off the hook.
‘After that came the practical tests, Dad. It will be fascinating to see if you fare any better with them.’
‘I’m ready,’ said Sir Julian, setting off on his perambulation again.
‘You have to attend three crime scenes so the examiners can see how you’d react in different circumstances. I did quite well on the first test, when I had to breathalyse a driver who’d been involved in a minor prang. The test result was amber, not red, indicating that he’d been drinking recently, but he wasn’t over the limit.’
‘Did you arrest him?’ asked Grace.
‘No, I let him off with a warning.’
‘Why?’ demanded Sir Julian.
‘Because he didn’t actually fail the test, and also the police national computer revealed that he was a chauffeur with no previous offences, so if I’d arrested him, he might have lost his job.’
‘You’re a wimp,’ said Sir Julian. ‘Next?’
‘I had to follow up a robbery at a jewellery shop. One of the staff was screaming, and the manager was in a state of shock. I calmed them both down before radioing for assistance, then sealed off the crime scene and waited for back-up to arrive.’
‘You seem to be doing very well so far,’ said his mother.
‘I thought so too, until I was put in charge of a team of young constables who were attending a protest march in support of nuclear disarmament, and it started to get out of hand.’
‘What happened?’ asked his sister.
‘It appears that I didn’t respond calmly enough when a protester called one of my men a fascist bastard.’
‘I can’t imagine what they would have called me,’ said Sir Julian.
‘Or how you would have reacted,’ said Marjorie.
Everyone laughed except Beth, who wanted to know how William had responded.
‘I kicked him in the balls.’
‘You did what?’ said his mother.
‘Actually, I only drew my truncheon, but that wasn’t what he claimed when we got him back to the station. It didn’t help that I failed to mention what actually happened in my report.’