Page 93 of Traitors Gate

‘Name?’ said Rebecca.

‘Penny, Penny Cummins,’ replied a young woman who was dressed in the Tower’s distinctive navy blue uniform with little red castles on the lapels, black stockings and black shoes – well polished.

‘How long have you worked at the Tower?’ asked Rebecca as William came in and sat down beside her.

‘Just over six months, but I haven’t done anythin’ wrong.’

‘No one’s suggesting you have,’ said Rebecca. ‘But a large sum of money has gone missing.’

‘I would never steal nothin’.’

‘Were you on duty around twenty past eight when the Governor’s wife left the Tower with her children?’ asked William, cutting to the chase.

‘Perhaps I was,’ said Penny defensively. William couldn’t miss the defiant shrug of the shoulders and slight reddening of the cheeks. Not a criminal, but he suspected someone who had something to hide.

‘Did you ask the Governor’s wife if she knew the password?’

‘Might have,’ she said, bowing her head. ‘So what?’

‘Because you didn’t know what the password was at that time, did you?’ said William a little more sharply. No reply was forthcoming.

‘We’ll need to check your mobile phone,’ said Rebecca.

‘Don’t have one,’ said Cummins.

William took her bag and tipped it upside down, spilling all the contents onto the table, which included a phone. Rebecca grabbed it and a few seconds later the wordsCOLONEL BLOODflashed up on the screen.

‘Who were you sending this message to?’ demanded William.

‘Don’t know,’ Penny replied, shaking uncontrollably. ‘It was all done over the phone.’

‘Does the name Phil Harris mean anything to you?’ asked William, moving on.

‘No, never heard of him, I swear.’

William would have liked to continue questioning her but suspected she had nothing more to offer, while the sand in the golden hourglass was continuing to slip away. He quickly left the room with the feeling Ms Cummins was just another pawn on life’s chess board, while the pieces were being moved by a grandmaster.

12 MINUTES

Once the minicab had dropped him off about a mile from his house, Lamont made his way quickly across the common until he reached the front door of his home, without looking back. Once inside, he went straight to the kitchen to find his wife was preparing lunch.

‘Has anyone called in the last hour?’ were his first anxious words.

‘Only my mother,’ she replied.

‘What time was that?’

‘About half an hour ago.’

‘Did she ask where I was?’

‘No. But where were you?’

‘At a business meeting,’ he said. ‘And as far as you’re concerned, I never left the house all morning, that’s assuming you’re still hoping to go on that shopping trip to Milan.’

‘And was the business meeting successful?’

‘I can’t be sure yet,’ he replied, now fearful of a knock onthe front door or the sound of a phone ringing. ‘What’s for lunch?’ he asked, although he wasn’t hungry.

---