“The head porter there, who shall remain nameless,” said Mai Ling, picking up the thread, “is an ex-Met copper, like Barry and myself. He recently suggested to Mellor that he take advantage of the hotel’s free massage service, which is available only to regular customers.”

“He clearly enjoys Mai Ling’s skills in particular,” continued Hammond, “because he now always books her well in advance. That’s how we know he’ll be staying at the Swan next Tuesday night. He’s made an appointment to have a massage at 4:30 that afternoon. I’ve booked his room for the night before, which will give me more than enough time to install the recording device, so we can listen in to what he and Sloane are saying to each other.”

“But what makes you think Sloane will call him at that time?”

“He doesn’t have to. Mellor is never off the phone, and the number he calls most frequently is Sloane’s.”

“But surely Sloane will be cautious about what he says over the phone?”

“He usually is, but Mellor sometimes goads him, and Sloane can’t resist trying to score the occasional point. And he probably thinks Mellor’s calling from his office, so the line’s secure.”

“But they may not discuss anything of any use to us,” said Seb.

“You may well be right, Mr. Clifton, because this will be Mai Ling’s fourth appointment with Mellor, and although certain key words regularly come up whenever he and Sloane talk on the phone—Farthings, Bishara, Clifton, Barrington and occasionally Hardcastle and Kaufman—they haven’t yet divulged anything of real significance. But now that I’ve listened to the three earlier tapes, I’d know Mellor’s or Sloane’s voice the moment I heard it. That’s relevant because David Collier has given me a copy of the tape recording of the anonymous tip-off call. I listened to it again last night and, I can tell you, it was Adrian Sloane.”

“Well done, Barry,” said Hakim. “But how do we prove that Mellor was also involved?”

“That’s where Mai Ling comes in,” said Barry. “Given time, I’m sure she’ll work her magic on him, just as she did on you, Mr. Clifton. Unless you have any more questions, we ought to get back to work.”

“Just one.” Seb turned to Mai Ling. “While I’ve been sitting here, I’ve developed a slight crick in my neck, and I wondered…”

*   *   *

Mai Ling set up the massage table while Desmond Mellor went into the bathroom and got undressed. When he came out, he was wearing only a pair of pants. He patted her backside as he climbed onto the table, pleased to see she’d already put the phone next to his headrest.