Diamond Solitaire

'They're not cheap,' the girl added, 'but they're smart. Kind of sporty. Rohans are really something else in trousers-all those pockets.'

He thanked her. 'Now can I help in any way, by calling over the numbers, perhaps?'

'Is that meant to be a hint, or something? I was going as fast as I could before you interrupted.'

'What if one of them calls back?'

'Harry over there will take it. He's had nothing up to now.'

Harry over there was wearing earphones. He looked up from a copy of Viz and raised his thumb in greeting.

'I'll let you get on, then,' Diamond told them tamely.

'Ta.'

He moved away. He fancied a cigarette now, and he hadn't smoked in years. Didn't even approve of it

Feeling alien and ineffectual, a sensation he'd never have dreamed was possible in a police station, he went to look for the canteen. Five cigarettes and two black coffees later, he went back upstairs, only to be greeted with Harry's palms spread wide in a negative gesture.

In an hour he returned and the operator said that she'd contacted every taxi firm except three that had probably gone out of business. Most of them had said they'd need to check with their controllers or their drivers, some of whom had changed shift since eight in the morning. The standard arrangement was that they'd ring back if anyone could remember picking up the Japanese woman and child in Earls Court.

Harry was filling in a football pools coupon.

'Nothing yet?'

'Zilch.'

Diamond went in search of Superintendent Sullins. He found him in an office upstairs dictating a letter. 'About to leave, Mr. Diamond?'

'We seem to have drawn a blank with the taxis.'

'Nil desperandum. One of the firms could ring back anytime.'

'I know, but it's almost six hours since they were last seen.'

'Let's not be melodramatic,' Sullins unwisely commented. 'We're not dealing with a mine disaster.'

'Melodramatic! This is a missing child.'

'Possibly.'

'Have you alerted the airports and the main line stations?

'Alerted them to what? A mother slapping her child's leg? Let's keep this in proportion. And now you're going to tell me that we don't know if she's the mother.'

'We don't.'

'But she produced a photograph, Mr. Diamond.'

An eruption was irnminent. Only a buzz on the intercom prevented it.

Sullins touched a switch. 'Yes?'

The voice was female. 'Sir, we're taking a call from a taxi firm in Hammersmith called Instant Cabs.'

'Put it on,' Sullins ordered.

A man's voice was saying, '… went off duty at twelve, and we've only just been able to trace him. He's your driver, all right He picked up a Japanese woman at seven-fifty this morning in Brook Green. She had a suitcase, dark blue. He drove her to Kempsford Gardens School in Earls Court-would that be right?-and waited until eight twenty- five, or soon after, when she came out with a child, a small girl. Japanese, like the woman. She seemed to be playing up, he said. He drove them to the airport.'

'Heathrow?'

'Yes.'

'Which terminal?'

'Three. The intercontinental.'

Diamond didn't wait to hear any more. He was out and down the stairs and telling Harry to get Immigration on the line.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Wedged into seat 1 IB in the Concorde, Diamond was about as comfortable as a stout person may expect to be on an aircraft noted for its slim contour. Eleven-B was immediately behind the serving bay, providing the dual advantage of increased legroom and a tray arrangement that allowed him to stand his champagne glass on a level surface rather than having it on a slope created by his stomach.

Rapid decisions were responsible for his being on the flight. Around 5:30 P.M., he had learned from Immigration at Heathrow that someone remembered a Japanese woman and child passing through the departure gate about 1:00 P.M. More importantly, the woman had been wearing what was described as gray sportsgear and the child a red corduroy dress, black tights and trainers. Soon after this, British Airways check-in staff had confirmed that a Mrs. Nakajima, accompanied by her daughter Aya, had boarded flight BA177 at 1415, due at John F. Kennedy Airport, New York, at 1705, local time.

New York. This wasn't a game for faint hearts, but Diamond was totally committed. By using his former police rank, he succeeded in extracting a promise from the Immigration Service at JFK that Mrs. Nakajima and daughter would be detained for up to an hour. From British Airways he had already learned that by taking the last Concorde flight of the day at 1900, he could be in New York fifty minutes after BA177 arrived-the sort of schedule that would have him looking at his watch all the way across. He'd booked a passage immediately, quoting Yamagata's Gold Card number. The thought crossed his mind that he ought to have called the Albert Hall to get his sponsor's approval, but he decided against it. 'Mr. Yamagata is a rich man. He will pay,' the interpreter had promised when they had met, and presumably Mr. Yamagata, the man of honor, wouldn't quibble over a mere five thousand and thirty pounds. Diamond preferred not to inquire at this stage.

Remembering just in time that he was a considerate husband, he did phone Stephanie to let her know that he was leaving the country. She wasn't quite as devastated as he'd expected. 'See if you can get me a pair of genuine New York sneakers while you're over there. White, of course. Remember I take a seven, but that's eight and a half in their size.' How did she know these things? he wondered.

He checked his watch again, thinking ahead. The U.S. Immigration officials would be the first test They were trained to spot conmen. He'd need to be sharp to convince them that he was on an official investigation. Then there was the Nakajima woman, who had thoroughly outfoxed the formidable Mrs. Straw. She was a real challenge. Even if she folded under questioning and admitted to abducting the child, there was still the matter of what action could be taken, and where. Extradition law had never been his forte.

A stewardess came along the aisle and handed him a note that must have been transmitted to the cockpit.

To: Supt. Diamond

From: US. Immigration

Time: 1721NYT

Will meet you on arrival. Ms. Nakajima and child detained.

A tingling sensation, a mixture of relief, anticipation and champagne, spread through Diamond's veins.

'Good news, sir?' the stewardess inquired.

He gave a dignified smile. 'Just confirming an appointment' In truth, it deserved a fanfare. For one indulgent moment, he likened himself to Chief Inspector Dew, the man who had crossed the Atlantic in 1910 to arrest Dr. Crippen and his mistress. A telegraph message, a dash across the ocean, and Crippen had been copped.

There the comparison ended. Crippen had been a murderer. Mrs. Nakajima was guilty, at most, of abduction.

The Concorde had already started its descent. The 'fasten seatbelts' order came over the public address.

They touched down five minutes before schedule at 1750.