‘But you can’t prove the tramp you saw was Ross.’

‘He was wearing four combat medals.’

‘Then you’ll only need to interview about ten thousand possible suspects.’

‘I could eliminate the 9,999 of them who haven’t been awarded the Queen’s Gallantry Medal.’

‘Ross wouldn’t make a mistake like that.’

‘I don’t think it was a mistake. I think he wanted me to see it.’

‘Then why didn’t you arrest him?’

‘Because at that moment Abbott’s body landed on the pavement just a few feet away, which I confess distracted me.’

‘Will you call him in for questioning?’ asked The Hawk.

‘What’s the point? He’ll have all his answers off pat, and will be well aware we don’t have anything that would stand up in court.’

‘Do you still want him to be a member of your team when you go after Faulkner?’

‘We wouldn’t get as far as the front door without him,’ said William, ‘let alone beyond Faulkner’s study.’

‘If you’re right and he did murder Roach, you’d better make sure he isn’t carrying a gun when you enter the house, because he won’t give a damn who sees him kill Faulkner.’

• • •

The door was opened by a man who towered over him, arms folded, fists clenched, ‘HATE’ tattooed on the knuckles of both hands.

‘What can I do for you?’ said a voice.

He looked past the doorkeeper to see a wizened old man who was seated behind an oak desk in a large leather chair that seemed to gobble him up.

‘I need to borrow a grand, Mr Sleeman,’ he said anxiously, as he stared at the diminutive figure, who looked even more odious than his gormless bodyguard.

‘Why?’ demanded Sleeman, his thin lips hardly moving.

‘I need to buy a car.’

‘Why?’ he repeated.

‘I’ve been offered a job as a sales rep with a pharmaceutical company and I told them I had my own car.’

‘Do you have any form of security?’

‘The car, and I’ll be earning two hundred quid a week, plus commission.’

‘Where do you live?’

‘I have a small mews house in Chelsea.’

‘Do you own the house?’

‘No, I have a short lease.’

‘How short?’

‘It’s still got sixteen years left on it.’

‘I’ll need the car’s log book and the lease, which my man will collect this evening,’ said Sleeman, nodding to the giant by the door. ‘Both will be returned to you, but not before I get every penny of my money back. Plus the usual interest, of course.’

‘What are your terms?’

‘You’ll get your grand,’ said Sleeman, ‘and in return you’ll pay me six hundred pounds a month for the next three months.’

‘But that’s nearly a hundred per cent interest,’ he protested.

‘If you want the car, those are my terms. Take it or leave it.’

He hesitated long enough for Sleeman to unlock the drawer of his desk, take out a wad of fifty-pound notes and push them across the table without bothering to count them.