‘Well that’s the other interesting thing, Alex. The man who found George knows the detective in charge personally, and he swears she’s a good egg. If I could get to her, then I think we might have a chance. She’s gone all the way to London to pursue the case.’

‘How can she protect me?’

‘I don’t know; maybe she can get you an escort to fly back, or you can give evidence to her over the phone. Do you want me to contact her?’

‘All right. I’ll pack and go to the mountains tonight. When can we do the documents?’

‘When will you be there?’

‘Eight o’clock? Six your time.’

‘Done. Stay safe. Look over your shoulder, Alex. They’ll come in twos and they’ll be English.’

‘You too. There’s a British army base here. Should I go there and hand myself in?’

Tilly thought about it and played scenarios forward. ‘Not yet.’

Alex ended the call and began to eat. He hoped Tilly was who she said she was.

Chapter 32

Graeme called the number of a guy he’d gone to university with. He was a rowing nut, and if anyone could source an antique rig, it would be him.

When Sebastian had asked him to source a replica shell, like the one belonging to his Grandfather, which had been stolen; he hadn’t actually referred to the burglary as such, and had told Graeme that he was simply after the replacement antique for decoration. Graeme thought it odd, but it was none of his business. When he’d been in the house, he’d seen an old photo of Lord Allerdale in his youth, sitting in the shell, beaming at the camera, wearing a flat cap and a white shirt and clutching his oar. He’d been a fit and handsome man. Graeme had looked at the photograph for a long time and thought it was a good job the old man was dead; he figured the theft of such an item would break his heart. Perhaps Sebastian hadn’t mentioned the loss because he wasn’t a lover of boats and saw the rig simply as decoration, but Graeme had some knowledge of what a piece of kit like that might be worth.

His friend answered the phone and they chatted like people did who no longer saw one another and wondered why. Distance was the bugbear. His friend lived in Cornwall; they were at opposite ends of the country. Graeme promised to go and stay down there sometime, but he knew he wouldn’t.

His friend whistled when he heard the description of the stolen shell. He promised to stay on the lookout for something similar and get back to Graeme in the next couple of weeks.