Page 94 of Next in Line

‘I’m sorry to bother you, Mr Chalabi,’ he said.

Chalabi slowly came to, removed his glasses and looked up at the intruder.

‘I thought you would want to know that there’s a photographer on the beach taking pictures of the Princess and Lady Victoria swimming.’

‘Perhaps I should join them,’ he said, glancing over the side and not bothering to suppress a grin.

‘It might be wiser, sir,’ suggested Ross, ‘if we were to move to a more secluded spot, where he won’t bother you.’

‘He’s not bothering me. And as you can see, the Princess is clearly enjoying herself, so why don’t we leave her in peace?’

‘But that’s the point, sir. She’s not being left in peace.’

‘That’s for me to decide, Inspector, not you, and this time you won’t be able to stop him.’

Ross clenched a fist.

‘I may have to tolerate you being on my yacht, but you’d do well to remember you’re nothing more than a butler with a gun.’

•••

As the Volvo pulled into the parking lot beside a warehouse in Lambeth, Miles was relieved to see the removal van had already arrived, and half a dozen appropriately clad men were unloading its contents. However, he still had to hang around for another hour, and sign even more forms, before the last painting was safely deposited in its rack and the doors to his collection’s new abode had been double-locked.

Another £500 changed hands before the storage manager was willing to hand over two large keys, which would allow Miles to enter his own private code and ensure that no one else could remove the paintings without his knowledge.

Once Miles had pocketed the keys, he joined the storage manager who was dividing the spoils among his crew, and said, ‘If anyone should ask—’

‘My boys never saw nothin’. Nice to have done business with you, Mr …’ he hesitated, ‘Booth Watson.’

Miles joined Lamont in the car, its engine already turning over. ‘We’re going to have to get a move on,’ he said as he took off his jacket and checked his watch, ‘if we’re going to be back in under two hours and eleven minutes.’

Lamont took off, but the rush-hour traffic prevented him reaching the motorway for another forty-two minutes.

‘To hell with the speed limit,’ said Miles, finally giving in.

Although the speedometer rarely dipped below 90 mph, Lamont only managed to reach the layby near the prison with seventeen minutes to spare.

Miles, who had already changed back into his gym kit and trainers in the car, jumped out and set off at a pace that barely raised a sweat. Gone were the days when he could run a mile in under five minutes. By the time he reached the copse just outside the prison grounds, he was exhausted. He quickly retrieved his jeans and sweater from under the bramble bushand hurriedly pulled them on. He checked carefully in every direction before venturing out into no man’s land, relieved to find some friendly clouds were masking a full moon that would have alerted a patrolling officer to a moving figure on the wrong side of the demarcation zone.

An anxious cleaner was waiting for him by the fire escape door, and quickly pushed up the bar to let him in. Miles wearily climbed the stone steps to the second floor, and when he was only a few yards from his room, the lights went out. He fumbled with several keys before he managed to find the right one to open the door. When the lock finally turned, he almost fell inside.

Before he had time to undress, he heard the night officer advancing along the corridor on his round to check that every prisoner was safely tucked up after lights out.

Miles slipped into bed, pulled the blanket up to his neck and closed his eyes.

There was a gentle tap at the door. The duty officer looked inside and flashed his torch over the bed. ‘Hope you’re feeling better, Mr Faulkner,’ he said, before quickly switching off the torch.

‘A lot better, thank you, officer.’ Miles waited for the door to close before he got back out of bed, took off his clothes and hid four keys under his pillow, before falling asleep.

•••

Superintendent Warwick and DS Adaja sat in an unmarked car in a layby a hundred yards from the prison.

‘Are we going to give him a wake-up call?’ asked Paul when the lights in C block went out.

‘No. We owe him one,’ replied William. ‘But if he hadn’t come back, I would have happily arrested him.’

‘And if he tries it on again?’

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