At 10.20 there was a gentle tap on the door and, like the fairy godmother, Mr Morris reappeared.
‘I hope you both enjoyed a good night’s sleep,’ he ventured.
‘Couldn’t have been better,’ said William, after he’d drained his coffee.
Not much chance of that when you’re married to a caveman, Beth wanted to tell him, but kept her thoughts to herself.
‘I only ask because you didn’t order dinner last night.’
‘We were both full of crisps and peanuts,’ Beth blurted out.
‘Unfortunately you missed the early morning plane for Rome. However, we managed to book you onto the twelve thirty-five flight, and the airline has upgraded you to business class. A limousine will be waiting outside to take you back to the airport.’
‘Of course it will,’ said Beth.
‘I beg your pardon, madam?’
‘My wife simply meant that this has been a truly unforgettable experience, and you couldn’t have done more to make our stay memorable.’
‘How kind of you to say so, sir. I’ll leave you now and send a porter to pick up your bags in a few minutes’ time,’ said Mr Morris, who once again bowed before leaving the room.
‘Detective Sergeant Warwick,’ said Beth, taking her husband in her arms, ‘you’re going to have to get promoted fairly regularly.’
‘Why?’ asked William innocently.
‘Because I could get used to this.’ William was about to protest when she added, ‘But for now, I’ll settle for spending our wedding anniversary in this room once a year for the rest of our lives.’
‘They’ve just left, sir,’ said the manager, looking out of the window in his office as the limousine disappeared down the drive. ‘I think you’ll find we carried out your instructions to the letter.’
‘You did indeed, Mr Morris. My daughter phoned a few minutes ago to tell me that they’d been grounded because of an engine problem, but the airline went out of its way to make up for it.’
‘That’s most gratifying to hear, sir. Where shall I send the bill?’
‘To my office in Marylebone. Mark it personal, for the attention of Arthur Rainsford.’
Detective Superintendent Lamont picked up the phone on his desk to be greeted by a public-school accent that grated on his Scottish ear.
‘Reporting in, sir.’
‘Are you enjoying being in charge, DC Adaja, even if it’s only while DS Warwick is away on his honeymoon?’
‘Every minute. I don’t suppose there’s any chance of delaying his return, sir, as I was rather hoping to solve the case before he gets back?’
‘No chance,’ said Lamont. ‘Not least because Warwick’s just called from Rome and all he wanted to know was if we’d found out where Rashidi lives.’
‘Why am I not surprised?’
‘Any developments on that front?’ asked Lamont, ignoring the comment.
‘You were right about having all three airport terminals covered, sir. Rashidi was dropped off at terminal three this time, but ended up back at terminal one.’
‘And where did he go from there?’
‘A dark blue BMW picked him up and drove him to Little Charlbury, a village in Oxfordshire.’
‘Have you located his house, just in case DS Warwick phones back?’
Paul laughed. ‘It’s not so much a house, sir, more like a castle. It even has its own moat and drawbridge. The grounds must be over a thousand acres, and the nearest neighbour is at least a mile away.’
‘Then you’d better be wary of briefing the local police about what we’re up to. With that much money washing around, he might have one or two of them on his payroll, or at least wary of annoying him.’
‘There’s just a village bobby, and the only thing that’s older than him is his bicycle.’
‘Security?’
‘State of the art, plus some personal touches. The entire estate is surrounded by a ten-foot wall topped with electrified barbed wire.’
‘Criminals always take more stringent precautions when it comes to their own safety and possessions than honest people,’ said the Hawk, coming on the line for the first time. ‘Do you think it’s possible his drugs factory could be situated somewhere in the grounds?’
‘It seems unlikely, sir,’ said Paul, ‘not least because it would make a lousy distribution centre. Everyone in the village would see the gear coming in and going out. But I’ll stay put for now and see if I can pick up anything on the local grapevine.’
‘Good,’ said Lamont. ‘Meanwhile, I’ll arrange to fly over the property in the Met’s helicopter tomorrow morning. Though from what you say, I don’t expect to find anything incriminating. I suspect the place is all part of his public front, as the chairman of a successful tea company.’
‘And the taxi that took him to the airport — where did it end up?’ asked the Hawk.
‘Back at the driver’s home in Chiswick,’ said Jackie. ‘He turns out to be a licensed black cab driver. But on Friday afternoons he only has one customer, who he picks up in the City at four-twenty p.m. and drops off in The Boltons around five. He then drives him on to Heathrow a couple of hours later, dropping him at a different terminal each week. I’ve already fitted a tracking device to his taxi so we don’t always have to cover every terminal.’
‘I’ve only just authorized that,’ said the Hawk, ‘so did you attach the device before or after you had my permission?’
‘It may have been a few hours before,’ admitted Jackie.
‘Don’t make that kind of mistake again, DC Roycroft. It’s the sort of thing that could trip us up in court and scupper the whole operation. In future, play it by the book, or you might find yourself back on the beat.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Jackie. After she’d put the phone down she added, ‘But the criminals are working from a different book, in case you haven’t noticed... sir.’
‘I wonder if they’ve discovered where the factory is?’ said William to a large marble lady.
‘I’m sure they’ll somehow manage to survive without you for a couple of weeks, detective sergeant,’ said Beth, as she checked her guidebook.
‘So what have you got planned for this afternoon?’ asked William, feeling a little guilty.
‘A visit to the Borghese, where you’ll have a chance to see three of the finest Berninis, an unforgettable Raphael, and—’
‘Titian’s Sacred and Profane Love.’
‘Painted in which year?’
‘1514.’
‘I sometimes forget that you read Art History at King’s, between running around a cinders track all day and reading Agatha Christie at night.’
‘Simenon, actually. In French. So when do we get to see Da Vinci and Michelangelo?’
‘Patience, caveman. We still have another week to view the works of arguably the two greatest artists who’ve ever lived.’
‘I’m more of a Caravaggio man, myself.’
‘Then you probably already know that there are eleven of his works in galleries or churches right here in Rome. But tell me, DS Warwick, if you had been given the opportunity to arrest Caravaggio and have him hanged for murder in 1606, following a bar-room brawl, what decision would you have made?’
‘Hanged the damned man,’ said William. ‘Unlike that greedy hypocrite Pope Paul V.’
‘I’m glad you weren’t pope at the time,’ said Beth, ‘otherwise we wouldn’t be able to see nine of those eleven masterpieces.’
‘Do you think the Hawk knows we’re having an affair?’ said Jackie.
‘Of course he does,’ said Ross. ‘That’s why he chose you as my liaison officer.’
‘But most people think you’ve left the force.’
‘Including my mother. But that was all part of Hawksby’s plan. So many young officers resign in the first couple of years, they’re quickly forgotten.’