Page 16 of Traitors Gate

‘I know exactly what you meant, Chief Superintendent,’ responded Beth as she tried on a string of pearls her father had given her on her thirtieth birthday. ‘But I still don’t know the answer to your question.’

‘Then I’ll drive you there and you can mull it over.’

‘But you’ll be late for work.’

‘I like the pearls,’ said William.

• • •

Miles was cracking his second egg when Collins appeared carrying a letter on a silver tray. He didn’t mask his surprise as the morning post was usually left in his study for him to consider after he’d finished breakfast.

He picked up the long cream envelope and studied it closely. It was addressed to Miles Faulkner Esq., 37 Cadogan Place, London SW1, but it wasn’t until he turned the envelope over that he understood why Collins had made an exception to the rule. He gazed down at the embossed royal crest.

If it was a hoax, someone had gone to considerable trouble to attract his attention, as Miles was confident the envelope would not contain an invitation to join the Queen for one of her garden parties. It was the wrong-sized envelope for a start. Several alternatives ran through his mind before he picked up the butter knife, edged it into one corner of the envelope, and slowly slit it open. He carefully extracted a letter to see the wordsBUCKINGHAM PALACEembossed in blue at the top of the page. The only thing written on the paper in clear blue ink were eleven numbers which meant nothing to him. He assumed it must be a telephone number. But whose?

Miles rang the little bell on the breakfast table and moments later Collins reappeared.

‘Who delivered this letter?’ he asked, holding up the envelope.

‘It came with the morning post, sir,’ Collins replied.

Miles rose from the table, not letting go of the single sheet of paper. ‘I’ll be in my study. Make sure no one disturbs me.’

‘As you wish, sir,’ said Collins as Miles dropped his crumpled napkin on the table, left the room and disappeared into his office.

He sat down and placed the letter on the desk in front of him. He waited before picking up his phone and dialling the number slowly. It rang for some time before a voice said, ‘Good morning, Mr Faulkner.’

‘How did you know who was calling?’ demanded Miles.

‘You’re the only person who has this number,’ came back the immediate reply.

‘Then you can start by telling me your name.’

‘I have no intention of revealing my name,’ said the voice with a pronounced cockney accent, ‘until you agree to meet me.’

‘Why would I want to do that?’

‘Because for the past nine years someone inside Scotland Yard has been unwittingly feeding me with snippets of information that you would find most valuable.’

‘Snippets of information that no doubt come at a price.’

‘One million pounds,’ said the voice calmly.

Faulkner burst out laughing. ‘What could possibly be worth that much?’

‘The public humiliation of Chief Superintendent William Warwick. Having Inspector Ross Hogan dismissed from the force for gross misconduct, while leaving Commander Hawksby with no choice but to resign.’

‘How could that be possible?’ asked Miles, suddenly interested.

‘That’s what’s going to cost you one million pounds, Mr Faulkner,’ said the voice. ‘Because once you’ve pulled off my little coup, it won’t take Warwick and his cronies that long to work out who supplied you with the information to make it all possible.’

‘Let’s meet,’ said Faulkner, ‘so I can find out if you’re full of crap.’

‘Not that easy,’ said the voice, ‘because if anyone spotted the two of us together, they might just put two and two together.’

Faulkner thought for a moment before saying, ‘Do you know the Imperial War Museum?’

‘I haven’t visited it since I was a child, but I pass it on my way to work.’

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