Page 75 of Next in Line

Miles climbed off his stool, walked across to the counter and extracted a brown file from the shelf below. There was nothing written on the cover. He sat back down and took out a glossy brochure which he handed to William.

William studied the four pages back and front, but still didn’t speak as he waited for an explanation.

‘As you can see, Superintendent, it’s a booking form for this year’s Promenade concerts at the Royal Albert Hall. Omar found it in Khalifah’s wastepaper bin when he was cleaning his room. He checks its contents every morning, but this was the first time he’d found anything he thought might interest me.’

‘You’ve underlined one particular date,’ said William, turning to the final page of the brochure.

‘Not me. It was already underlined when Omar handed it over.’

‘Was he able to supply any other information?’ asked William.

‘Snippets of conversations he’d overheard on his rounds suggest Khalifah is planning something big for the Last Night of the Proms. He also caught the words, “Land of Hope”—’

‘—“And Glory”,’ said William. ‘But planting a bomb in the Albert Hall would be nigh on impossible. The whole building is checked by sniffer dogs and specialist search officers on the morning of every concert.’

‘Which is why Omar is convinced Khalifah is planning to use a suicide bomber to carry out the job. Someone who’salready been planted in this country, and is just waiting for the order to move. But I still didn’t consider that was enough to interest you, Superintendent, until a few days ago when I had a stroke of luck – the kind on which we both have to rely from time to time.’

William leant forward.

‘A well-known scalper sold a most unlikely punter a single ticket for the Last Night of the Proms, for which he paid way over the top. He didn’t give it much thought at the time, until later when it began to nag at him.’

‘Then why didn’t he contact the police?’ asked William.

‘Scalpers don’t advertise, Superintendent, and when they spot a policeman, they have a tendency to make themselves scarce.’

‘I don’t suppose he got the punter’s name?’

‘Scalpers only deal in cash, and don’t ask questions,’ Miles replied. ‘But he described the man as young, short, thin, and of Middle Eastern extraction. What puzzled the scalper, and later made him suspicious, was that the man hardly spoke a word of English, and kept calling it the Last Night ofPoms. He clearly isn’t planning to place a garland of flowers around the bust of Sir Henry Wood.’

‘So, we’re down to a shortlist of about a hundred thousand,’ said William.

‘But I know you have a unit at Scotland Yard whose sole purpose is to keep an eye on anyone with terrorist connections. And let’s face it, Superintendent, you now have one big advantage. You know exactly when and where he’s planning to carry out the bombing.’

‘Possibly,’ said William as he placed the brochure in an inside pocket. ‘If your information turns out to be accurate, you can be assured I’ll personally inform Mr Booth Watsonof the valuable role you played in preventing a serious terrorist attack, and recommend he raises the matter with your trial judge before he passes sentence.’

‘That’s the last thing I want you to do,’ said Miles, once again taking William by surprise. ‘But if my information turns out to be kosher, the next person I’ll want to see won’t be Booth Watson but your father, as I have something even bigger to offer him.’

William could not come up with a suitable reply. ‘I can’t make any promises, but I will pass your message on to him,’ he said eventually as Rebecca continued to write down every word. ‘Is there anything else you want to tell me before we leave?’

‘No, but you can be sure I’ll be watching the Last Night of the Proms on the television in my cell, Superintendent. I can never resist joining in the chorus of “Land of Hope and Glory”.’

It was now William’s turn to take Faulkner by surprise. ‘What was the book you were reading when we came in?’

‘Beware of Pityby Stefan Zweig. Are you familiar with his work?’

‘Can’t say I am,’ said William.

‘Then I can recommend him. When you’re stuck in here all day,’ said Miles, looking around the crowded shelves, ‘you read a lot. Usually a chapter is more than enough for me, but that was until I came across Zweig, who can transport me out of this place for hours at a time. It’s about the only good thing that’s happened to me since you dragged me back from Spain.’

‘Unless it turns out that you’ve foiled a terrorist attack, and saved countless innocent lives,’ suggested William as Rebecca closed her notebook.

‘Before you leave, Superintendent, may I be allowed to give you one piece of advice?’

Rebecca quickly reopened her notebook and took out her pen.

‘Please tell your wife not to trust Christina under any circumstances.’

William had at last found something on which he and Miles Faulkner could agree, but Rebecca closed her notebook and they both left without offering an opinion. Once the door was closed behind them, he turned to Rebecca and said, ‘How much of that did you believe?’

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