The encrypted radio was silent for so long that, if it hadn’t been for the occasional crackle, Jackie might have thought she’d lost contact. At last they heard the unmistakable voice of the Hawk. Brief and to the point.
‘Are you certain, DC Roycroft?’
‘Yes, sir,’ she said firmly, her binoculars still focused on the Volvo.
‘Are they still in the queue?’
‘No, sir. A customs officer is checking the car, and another one is chatting to Tulip. Now they’re smiling and waving the car through.’ She paused for a moment. ‘A couple more minutes, sir, and we’ll lose them,’ she said, trying to keep her foot off the accelerator.
‘Stay put, DC Roycroft,’ said the Hawk. ‘We can’t afford to compromise a UCO, and if the gear is being delivered to Rashidi’s slaughter somewhere in Brixton, that could help us fill in one of the last pieces of the jigsaw. I repeat, stay put.’
William snatched the radio out of Jackie’s hand. ‘What if your UCO has been turned, sir? In that case we’ll be none the wiser as to the location of the factory, and we’ll have lost ten kilos of cocaine and a chance to put Tulip out of business.’
‘That’s just not possible,’ said Jackie, almost shouting. ‘Ross would never switch sides,’ she added, breaking a cardinal rule.
‘Perhaps your UCO is only telling us half the story,’ said William calmly. ‘As you never stop reminding us, sir, there’s a vast amount of money involved with these drug cartels, which must be a temptation for even the most scrupulous officer.’ This silenced Jackie, not least because she’d never heard anyone speak to the commander like that.
‘You’re quite right, DS Warwick,’ said the commander equally calmly. ‘It’s possible that, as DC Roycroft and I are running this particular UCO, we’re too personally involved. I’ll leave the final decision to you, Bruce.’
Lamont came back on the line immediately. ‘I don’t know the officer personally, sir, but he’s never let you down in the past, so there’s no reason to believe he’s suddenly changed sides. In any case, if they were to charge in, we might even put his life in danger. I’d advise we stand DS Warwick and DC Roycroft down. And another point, sir. It won’t help our colleagues if those are the two customs officers they have under surveillance.’
‘Good point. All the more reason for both of you to return to the Yard immediately.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said William, not sounding convinced.
He and Jackie sat and watched as the Volvo drove onto the main road, and disappeared out of sight.
‘Thank you, Bruce,’ said the commander as he switched off the radio and broke contact with Felixstowe.
Once he had returned to his office, Hawksby picked up the phone on his desk and said, ‘Angela, do you have an empty Marlboro packet to hand?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Could you bring it through?’
Angela fished a packet out of a drawer, took it in to her boss, and left it on his desk without a word passing between them.
Twenty minutes later, the commander picked up the phone again. ‘Angela, should anyone call, I’ll be out of the office for about thirty minutes.’ He returned the silver paper to the empty cigarette packet before slipping it into an inside pocket. He then took the lift to the ground floor and headed in the direction of Westminster Cathedral.
17
THE EVENING BEFORE the trial, Adrian and Maria were driven from Lincoln down the A1 back to London. They were booked into a small, discreet hotel not far from the Old Bailey. Two guards were stationed outside their room.
Maria slept well, despite Adrian tossing and turning throughout the night as he went over his well-rehearsed responses to every one of Sir Julian’s questions, like a nervous actor waiting for the curtain to rise. Maria only had a walk-on part. As soon as Adrian stepped into the witness box, she would be driven to Heathrow, where she would check in and wait for him to join her.
Sir Julian stayed at his flat in Lincoln’s Inn overnight. In the morning he rose early and went over his opening address one more time, making the occasional emendation, crossing the odd word out, even one whole paragraph. He then read it out loud, with only the morning chorus as his audience. They seemed to appreciate it.
Booth Watson also rose early, and enjoyed a large breakfast before taking a taxi to the Old Bailey, arriving only half an hour before proceedings would commence. But then, he was unlikely to be on his feet until later that afternoon, as he suspected the Crown’s first witness would give evidence for at least a couple of hours before he had the chance to cross-examine him. Although he had prepared several traps to ensnare Mr Heath, none of them looked all that promising, and he feared that if his client was found guilty on both charges, he would, with a four-year suspended sentence already hanging over him, be spending several Christmases doing cold turkey.
He had dined with Miles at the Savoy the evening before, and found him remarkably calm, even resigned to his fate. But then he could never fathom out what really went on in that impenetrable mind.
Grace took the tube to the Central Criminal Court, aware that her father wouldn’t want to be distracted before he rose to address the jury. She accepted that as his junior, hers was a supporting role, ready to assist should a point of law arise or to check any statement the defence claimed as fact, as she couldn’t allow Booth Watson to ambush her father while he was in full flow. At a more menial level, she even had to make sure his glass of water was always half-full, and not half-empty. Grace was more than happy to act as her father’s junior, and although she didn’t mention it to anyone, even Clare, she hoped he would allow her to cross-examine one of the less important witnesses.
Like his QC, Miles Faulkner enjoyed a
