‘There’s always a reckoning,’ Ingeborg said.
‘Not in the art world, there isn’t,’ Diamond said. ‘Fewer than ten percent of art thefts are ever detected.’
‘We’re on a loser, then,’ Leaman said.
You didn’t say that kind of thing in Diamond’s CID meetings.
There was an uncomfortable silence before the main man said, ‘I’m going to take the last remark as a joke. A few minutes ago you were all supplying theories. Come on.’ He snapped his fingers.
Leaman said, ‘I thought my Mona Lisa story was a good example.’
‘It can’t teach us much about the present case. They’d be hard pushed to sell forgeries of the Wife of Bath.’
‘The theft of the Stone of Scone was closer to what we’re talking about,’ Halliwell said.
‘Stone of what?’ Gilbert said.
‘Before your time. And mine, come to that. The ancient coronation stone nicked from Westminster Abbey in the 1950s.’
‘Political,’ Ingeborg said. ‘That was all about Scottish nationalism.’
‘The practical problem of shifting a bloody great rock was the same.’
‘True. But there the resemblance ends.’
‘So, what’s your theory?’ Halliwell asked Ingeborg.
‘It’s about single-minded people, collectors, who covet great works of art. They don’t want them in public galleries being enjoyed by everyone. They want the thrill of having the stuff all to themselves. Thousands of precious artefacts have been stolen over the years and never recovered. They can’t be sold on. They’re too well known. Van Goghs, Picassos and Rembrandts. It’s possible our mystery man is a secret hoarder.’
‘With an Aladdin’s cave piled high with stolen treasures?’ Leaman said with a curl of the lip.
‘Doesn’t matter where he stores it. Collector’s mania is a recognised condition.’
‘You think he has a stack of stone carvings at home?’
She sighed and spread her hands. ‘Listen, guys, all I’m suggesting is that we focus our investigation on the brains behind this operation.’
‘Ingeborg is right,’ Diamond said, before anyone else chipped in. ‘The paymaster is our main target. We’ll investigate everyone with a conceivable interest in acquiring the stone.’
‘Excuse me,’ Leaman said.
‘What’s up?’ Diamond said.
‘That was my suggestion.’
‘What was?’
‘You said Ingeborg is right about investigating the paymaster.’
‘It’s bloody obvious, isn’t it?’ Ingeborg said to him. ‘I didn’t think we were reduced to scoring points off each other.’ But she’d just scored a good one off him.
It was clear to Diamond that the brainstorming was at an end. Nothing more would emerge while they were sniping at each other. He liked his team and valued them, but bright people tend to think their opinions should carry the day. ‘This doesn’t mean we let the gunmen go free. I’m thinking one or more of us may need to go undercover.’
Conversation ceased while they all considered their options.
When Keith Halliwell spoke, it was to say, ‘High risk.’
Diamond didn’t say a word.
Halliwell was supposed to be Diamond’s back-up, the senior man. ‘There’s a fine line between getting on the inside and aiding and abetting. We all know about certain high profile cases where the officer concerned got too involved. The law doesn’t take kindly to cops bending the rules.’
Diamond knew he should have discussed this first with Keith. The man was speaking sense. But it was still a cause for anger that his deputy’s first reaction had been so negative. ‘You’ve made your point,’ he said, tight-lipped. ‘Whoever takes this on will need to be ultra careful.’
They wouldn’t be queuing up to volunteer.
‘Anyone wants to speak to me, I’ll be in my office.’
What followed was to become a classic ‘I was there’ episode to be endured at the time, cherished in the memory and relayed to generations of CID officers who came after. Diamond stepped into his office and closed the door. Actually ‘slammed’ would be a better word. Immediately came an almighty thump followed by the sound of glass shattering and a roar of mingled pain and outrage giving way to a passage of swearing the like of which had not been heard in Manvers Street in twenty years. Then silence.
There was no rush to assist.
Consciences were being examined. Everyone could picture the scene inside. They should have seen it coming and warned the boss. He’d stumbled, staggered, made a grab for the only thing within reach and brought his computer screen crashing down with him.
Diamond had tripped over the Wife of Bath.
Earlier that morning six fit young policemen in a van had transported the stone from the auction room to the police station in Manvers Street. As an exhibit, it should by rights have gone into the evidence store in the basement, but the sergeant in charge had baulked. He’d insisted the thing was too heavy to take off its dolly and carry downstairs. The PCs who had shifted it were only too pleased to wheel it into Diamond’s office. Just inside the door.
Ingeborg said, ‘We can’t just sit here. Someone’s got to go in.’
All eyes turned to Halliwell, the senior man.
The responsibility couldn’t be shirked. Halliwell rose, crossed the room and opened up.
He found the big man still conscious, sitting on the floor, picking bits of broken circuitry and glass from his clothes.
No words are adequate in a situation like this.
‘You okay, guv?’
‘Does it look like it?’
‘Can I help you up?’
‘Which idiot is responsible for this?’
Halliwell tried his best to explain the problem the removal team had faced. Diamond didn’t seem to be listening.
By now some of the others had joined Halliwell in the doorway. Leaman asked, ‘Are you injured, guv?’ As the keeno in CID, he’d long ago been made the first aid man. Everyone had the training, but Leaman had the bandages. ‘Are you bleeding?’
‘Bleeding mad. Why didn’t anyone warn me?’
‘We were about to. You were too fast for us,’ Halliwell said. ‘You opened the door and went straight in.’
‘Isn’t that what people do when they enter a room?’
No one answered.
‘You had at least twenty minutes to warn me.’
‘We were brainstorming.’
‘Brainstorming be buggered. I could have ended up in hospital. Someone give me a hand.’
With Halliwell’s assistance, he hauled himself upright, making a sound like wind chimes as bits of the smashed screen hit the floor. Glass was distributed widely in all directions.
‘I’m bruised all over.’
Instead of offering sympathy, Leaman said, ‘You need an immediate shower and a change of clothes.’
‘Why? I’m not incontinent.’
‘The VDU.’
Abbreviations had always been Diamond’s blind spot. His features twitched. ‘WHAT are you trying to tell me now?’
‘You need hosing down. Most of the parts in that visual display unit are highly toxic. Mercury in the circuit boards, lead in the cathode ray tube and chromium protecting the hard surfaces. If any of that gets into your system, I can’t answer for the consequences.’
‘It’s too bloody late to answer for the consequences. That’s what I’m hopping mad about.’
Leaman refused to be silenced. His authority in this emergency overrode rank, discipline, everything. At any rate, that’s what they’d told him on the training course. ‘And you’re not to use your office again until it’s been completely decontaminated.’