‘What if I don’t get that lucky?’

‘Then you’ll need to be on top of your game on the first day of next month.’

Ross was already thinking about where he would park his car. How he would …

‘One last question before I grab a couple of hours’ shut-eye,’ said Larry, as the steward removed his coffee cup, and stored away the tray table. ‘How recently did you lose your wife?’

Ross was so taken by surprise it was some time before he recovered sufficiently to say, ‘A few weeks ago. But how did you know?’

‘I lost Martha six years ago,’ said Larry, ‘and I still never stop touching my wedding ring. Don’t listen to people who tell you it will get easier as time goes by. It doesn’t. I wouldn’t be fifty pounds overweight and living on aeroplanes if it did.’ With that he reclined his seat, pulled his blanket up to his chin and closed his eyes.

‘Thank you,’ said Ross, delighted this shrewd and decent man had slumped down in the seat next to him, and not moved on.

• • •

‘The head of Heathrow airport security on line one, chief,’ said Paul.

William picked up his extension to hear a familiar voice. ‘Good morning, sir. It’s Geoff Duffield. You asked me to let you know if DI Ross Hogan booked himself onto an overseas flight.’

‘I’m listening,’ said William.

‘He boarded flight BA027 to Cape Town at nine thirty last night. It touched down at nine o’clock this morning, local time.’

‘Thank you,’ said William. ‘Has he booked a return flight?’

‘No, sir. His ticket was open-ended. But I’ll let you know as soon as he makes another booking.’

‘He’ll be back before the end of the week,’ said William, without explanation.

CHAPTER 26

‘WOULD YOU BE KIND ENOUGH to sign the visitors’ book, sir?’ said the receptionist, swivelling round a large, leatherbound volume just as the phone on the desk began to ring. She picked it up and announced, ‘Good morning, the Mount Nelson Hotel. How may I assist you?’

Ross began to flick back through the pages of the visitors’ book in search of Mr and Mrs Clive Pugh, who he knew had planned to check in earlier that week.

‘Can I help you?’ asked the receptionist as she put the phone down and caught him looking closely at a particular page of the log.

‘Yes,’ said Ross, not missing a beat. ‘I was just checking to see if a friend of mine, Larry T. Holbrooke the Third, had booked in.’

‘We have no one under that name staying with us,’ said the receptionist. Ross looked suitably disappointed, as she handed him a large metal key. ‘You’re in room thirty-three on the third floor. A porter will take your bag up. I hope you have a pleasant stay with us.’

Pleasant wasn’t what Ross had in mind. ‘Thank you,’ he said, before following the porter across the hall to the lift. On the way they passed a photograph of Winston Churchill sitting on the veranda of the hotel smoking a cigar and clasping a large brandy.