‘Are you telling the court that you picked up a consignment of the purest cocaine from Fortnum and Mason?’
‘No, sir. The goods I picked up from Fortnum’s that morning at Mr Faulkner’s request were a dozen jars of the finest Royal Beluga caviar.’
Some of those in the court began to laugh, while others simply looked bemused. The judge frowned as he glared down at the witness.
Sir Julian paused for some time before asking, ‘Are you telling the court that you did not supply any drugs to Mr Faulkner on this occasion?’
‘On this occasion, or any other occasion, for that matter,’ said Heath. ‘In fact, it was the first time I’d ever met him.’
Grace passed her father a hastily written note.
‘May I ask what you’ve been doing for the past six months, Mr Heath?’
‘I’ve been living in a safe house in Lincoln while assisting the police with their inquiries, for which I’m to be paid ten thousand pounds.’
The journalists looked delighted with this new piece of information, and their pens scratched away even more enthusiastically. The cacophony of murmured conversations that broke out in the court gave Sir Julian a little time to consider his next question.
‘So, what did you have to offer the police that was worth ten thousand pounds?’
‘I gave them the name of Tulip.’
‘Tulip?’
‘Terry Holland. He’s a big-time London drug dealer. Makes around a hundred grand a year. I also supplied them with the names of sixteen of his best customers, and in return I was promised ten grand and safe passage abroad for me and my girlfriend.’
The journalists didn’t stop scribbling.
‘And was Mr Faulkner one of those customers?’ asked Sir Julian, trying to recover.
‘No, he was not, sir,’ said Heath firmly.
Grace handed her father another note.
‘You do realize that you’re under oath, Mr Heath?’
‘I most certainly do, sir. Your daughter told me only this morning when she visited me in my cell how important it was that I told the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, otherwise I could go to jail for committing perjury. If you doubt my word, Sir Julian, I’m sure that Mr Faulkner, his butler and his chef will all confirm my testimony.’
Faulkner nodded, and this time he noticed that several members of the jury were now looking in his direction. Sir Julian recalled his son’s words when they had discussed Heath soon after he’d been expelled from school. One of the brightest boys in his class, but not to be trusted. He had to accept that Heath would have an answer to every one of his unprepared questions, as he’d obviously been rehearsing his responses for some time.
‘No more questions, m’lud,’ Sir Julian managed, before slumping back down on the bench.
Mr Justice Baverstock turned his attention to defending counsel. ‘Do you wish to cross-examine this witness, Mr Booth Watson?’
‘No, thank you, m’lud. I am quite satisfied with Mr Heath’s testimony.’
‘I’ll bet you were,’ said William, a little too loudly from the back of the court, and although the Hawk frowned, he had to agree with him.
‘Mr Heath, you are free to leave the court,’ said the judge reluctantly.
‘Thank you, m’lud,’ said Adrian, before stepping out of the witness box and heading straight for the nearest exit.
The judge rose and said, ‘The court is adjourned until two o’clock. However, I would like to see both counsel in my chambers.’
The two advocates bowed, aware that this was not a request.
‘Warwick,’ said Lamont, his eyes fixed on Faulkner, who was stepping down from the dock, ‘I need to know where Heath’s going. And, Paul, you follow Faulkner. Don’t let either of them out of your sight.’
‘I suspect they’re both going in the same direction,’ suggested the Hawk.
William had to dodge in and out of the bustling crowd heading for the door, while at the same time trying to keep an eye on Heath. Once he was outside in the corridor, he dashed towards the wide sweeping staircase, and didn’t stop running until he was out on the street, his eyes darting in every direction until he finally spotted a familiar figure climbing into the back of a Bentley.
‘Damn,’ said William. He began looking around in vain for a taxi, and once again stared at the parked car that hadn’t moved. To his surprise a motorbike screeched to a halt by his side.
‘Jump on, sarge,’ said Paul, handing him a crash helmet.
‘Good to see you again,’ said Faulkner, when Heath joined him in the back of the car.
‘Let’s hope it’s for the last time,’ said Heath, as the two men shook hands. ‘Because I don’t want to be dragged back into the witness box and have to explain how the drugs ended up in your statue, if I didn’t sell them to you.’
‘You won’t be going back,’ said Faulkner. ‘That’s the last thing I need.’ He handed Heath two first-class tickets to Rio de Janeiro, a new passport and a small attaché case. ‘By this time tomorrow, you and your girlfriend will be on the other side of the world, leaving the Crown with no choice but to drop the case, and my wife will finally be left with no choice but to sign her divorce papers.’
‘Thanks to our mutual friend from West Ham,’ said Heath, as he opened the briefcase and stared down at £20,000 stacked in neatly wrapped cellophane packets. ‘You’ve certainly kept your side of the bargain,’ he added. ‘Double what the fuzz were willing to pay me.’
‘Worth every penny,’ said Faulkner, ‘if it’s going to keep me out of jail and Christina unable to cause any more trouble. I can’t afford to hang about. I have to be back in my place by two o’clock, otherwise it will cost me a million pounds. Twenty thousand is one thing, a million is quite another.’
‘Understood,’ said Heath, as they shook hands a second time. ‘Good
