A tall, smartly dressed man appeared a few moments later. It wasn’t difficult for him to work out which was the irate customer who had demanded to see him.

‘How can I help you, sir?’ he asked politely.

‘Are you the manager?’ said Pugh, unable to hide his surprise.

‘I am, sir. Mr Joubert,’ he said, offering his hand. Pugh ignored it.

‘My name is Clive Pugh and your bank has just caused me some considerable embarrassment.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that, sir,’ said the manager. ‘Perhaps you would like to discuss this matter in the privacy of my office?’

‘I don’t need to be patronized by you, Joubert. All I want to know is why my credit card was rejected.’

‘Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to come to my office and talk about the problem?’

‘There isn’t a problem,’ said Pugh, almost shouting. ‘An explanation and an apology is the least I expect if you want to keep your job.’

Ross noticed that he was no longer the only person in the banking hall who was taking an interest in the encounter between the two men.

‘I’m afraid,’ said the manager, almost whispering, although everyone could hear his words, ‘your account is well over its limit, so I was left with no choice.’

‘Then I am also left with no choice,’ said Pugh, ‘other than to transfer my account to another bank. I expect you to have all the necessary paperwork ready when I return tomorrow.’

‘As you wish, sir. May I ask when that might be convenient?’

‘It will be convenient when it suits me,’ said Pugh. ‘It’s clear to me that you boys aren’t yet ready to do a man’s job.’

Ross was about to break another golden rule and knock out the person he was meant to be shadowing, and might have done so if Pugh hadn’t turned on his heel and marched out of the bank.

Ross followed him onto the street, but lost him when it became clear he was returning to the hotel. He couldn’t wait to hear his version of events over dinner that evening.

• • •

‘If Ross isn’t back in time for our meeting tomorrow,’ said Juan, as the three of them sat around the kitchen table after dinner, enjoying a second bottle of wine, ‘I’m going to have to call the whole operation off. We won’t even reach Faulkner’s front door without him.’

‘He’ll be back in time,’ said William, sounding more confident than he felt.

‘Let’s hope so,’ said Juan, ‘because my boss won’t allow me to hang around on the off-chance he’ll turn up. We’ve got enough of our own criminals to deal with, I can hear him reminding me.’

‘Sounds just like The Hawk,’ said Beth.

‘Cut from the same cloth,’ said Juan, ‘if that’s the correct English expression.’

‘How come your English is so good, Juan?’ Beth asked.

‘My mother married a Welshman, and he lost the toss. However, he still thinks the only saint is David, the only flower a daffodil, and the only game rugby.’