Page 11 of Next in Line

As they approached the glass cage, Booth Watson could see that his client, dressed in regulation blue and white stripedprison shirt and well-worn jeans, was already seated at the glass table waiting for him. He could read nothing from the sphinx-like expression on his face.

Miles stood up as Booth Watson entered the room and, although they were not allowed to shake hands, greeted him with the suggestion of a smile.

Booth Watson felt himself relaxing for the first time in days. ‘As we only have an hour, Miles,’ he said, taking off his Rolex watch and placing it on the table between them, ‘we haven’t a moment to waste.’ Faulkner nodded as he sat down. ‘I’ll begin by bringing you up to date with everything that has taken place since I last saw you.’ The QC bent down and took several files from his bag.

‘I flew to Barcelona for our monthly consultation, only to discover you’d already been arrested and brought back to London against your will, on your own jet.’

‘I presume it was Collins who told you?’

‘No,’ said Booth Watson, who had anticipated the question. ‘It was your Spanish lawyer, Señora Martinez. She briefed me fully on what Warwick and Hogan had been up to before I arrived.’

Booth Watson removed a single document from one of the files in front of him before continuing. ‘Señora Martinez has already filed an official complaint with the Spanish authorities, because depriving a citizen of their freedom without a trial is against the 1953 European Convention on Human Rights.’

‘A fat lot of good that will do me,’ said Miles.

‘Normally I would agree with you,’ replied Booth Watson, ‘but this allows us to request that Lieutenant Sanchez of the Spanish national police attend any forthcoming trial and explain to the court why he didn’t take charge of the case, but allowed DCI Warwick to assume command.’

‘That shouldn’t have taken you more than a few hours to find out, so why didn’t you return to London the next day?’

Another question Booth Watson was fully prepared for.

‘I made the decision to remain in Barcelona and gather as much information as possible to assist your case, before coming back to England.’

Faulkner didn’t look convinced.

‘Information that will not only make the possibility of an early release more likely, but also leave the police with little choice but to arrest both Warwick and Hogan, and charge them with kidnapping and theft.’

Faulkner smiled for the first time.

‘Once I’d gathered all the information I needed, I flew back to London and immediately applied to the CPS for an emergency consultation with my client, which they rejected out of hand.’

‘Why?’ demanded Faulkner.

‘I can’t prove it, but I suspect that once they realized two of the Met’s most senior officers were themselves in danger of being arrested, they did everything in their power to prevent me from seeing you. But I persisted, until they finally granted me a one-hour consultation this morning, so we can’t afford to waste another minute.’

Booth Watson looked up at Miles, but had no way of knowing if he believed him. ‘However, before I can proceed, I have to ask if you still wish me to continue as your legal representative?’

‘Why do you ask?’ said Faulkner, sounding even more suspicious.

‘Because since your escape from Belmarsh two years ago, I haven’t seen you – or at least that’s what I told the CPSwhen they questioned me about our relationship earlier in the week.’

A few moments passed before Faulkner realized the significance of what Booth Watson had just told him. ‘That must have taken a lot of shredding,’ he said.

‘Burning is more effective now the police have a machine that can put the pieces back together. However, if I am to remain your counsel, you will have to confirm that is the case,’ said Booth Watson, extracting another sheet of paper from one of the files. ‘I have prepared the necessary statement.’

Faulkner read the document carefully. ‘And if I don’t?’ he asked, a touch of menace creeping into his voice.

‘We’ll both be looking for a legal representative.’

Faulkner waved a hand, accepted the proffered gold pen and signed on the dotted line.

‘What about Christina?’ he asked, slipping the pen into his pocket. ‘She could blow both our stories apart.’

‘I’ve already briefed her on the consequences of doing anything quite so foolish, and we’ve come to what I would describe as an understanding.’

‘How much is this understanding going to cost me?’

‘Ten million.’

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