‘Tell them it’s an emergency,’ said Ross. ‘We’ll meet you at the airport.’

‘Understood,’ said the pilot, who was already out of bed before Ross had put the phone down.

‘It’s the watch, isn’t it?’ said William, remembering the anonymous black dial that had taken the place of Jo’s Rolex.

Ross smiled. ‘Now Collins is out of the way, I’ll get Faulkner out and we can take him to the airport and fly him back to London on his own plane.’

‘That’s kidnapping,’ said William, ‘which, in case you’ve forgotten, is against the law, in both countries.’

‘You’ve obviously forgotten, Chief Inspector,’ said Ross, ‘that Faulkner demanded to see his doctor. I distinctly remember him mentioning the words Harley Street.’

‘The Spanish authorities certainly wouldn’t be applying for an extradition order to bring him back,’ said Juan, matter-of-factly.

‘We can have him safely locked back up in Pentonville by the time Booth Watson lands in Barcelona,’ added Ross.

‘I’m still not sure—’

‘Of course you’re not, choirboy, but as you recently reminded me, we’re not in Battersea, but Barcelona, so it’s not your decision to make.’

They both turned to face the lieutenant. Juan nodded, but didn’t speak.

Ross raised his left arm, pulled up his sleeve and tapped 04 11 09 88 on the face of the watch.

• • •

Booth Watson’s mind was working overtime even before he’d turned on the shower. He didn’t wait for the jets of water to warm up before he began to formulate a plan. Should he go to his office first, and call Isobel Martinez before he went on to the airport? Not that he was even sure he had her home number in chambers. He decided he would have to trust Collins to track her down and carry out his instructions, while he went directly to Heathrow and caught the first available flight to Barcelona.

Once he dried himself, he put on a clean shirt and yesterday’s suit and tie, while his thoughts turned to Warwick and how the damn man never gave up. Once dressed, Booth Watson went down to his study, picked up his briefcase and put on an overcoat. He opened the front door to be greeted by a cold crisp morning. He double-locked the door then stood on the pavement and waited for some time before he spotted the words ‘Taxi’ glowing in the distance.

• • •

An unmarked police car came to a halt outside a private entrance to the airport. When a guard appeared, Lieutenant Sanchez produced his warrant card. The guard saluted, barely giving the three men in the back a second look, before pointing the driver in the right direction.

The car headed towards a long line of private aircraft, one of which was being refuelled and had its steps down waiting for its owner.

William and Ross helped Faulkner out of the back of the car. He was still unsteady, not having fully recovered from spending three hours locked in a safe. They guided him towards the aircraft’s steps. The pilot was waiting in the plane’s doorway, and couldn’t hide his surprise when he saw his boss being accompanied by three men all dressed in black, who he’d never seen before.