Juan took him to one side and explained that Mr Faulkner had insisted on being flown back to England immediately, as he wanted to see his own doctor.

‘But look at the state of him,’ said the pilot. ‘Shouldn’t you have taken him to a local hospital?’ he demanded, as Faulkner was almost carried up the steps and into the aircraft.

‘I couldn’t agree more,’ said Juan. ‘If you want to tell him, be my guest.’

‘If he doesn’t make it to London,’ said the pilot, ‘on your head be it.’

‘I have a feeling you might be right about that,’ said Juan, as the pilot quickly returned to the cockpit. William shook Juan warmly by the hand, before he left the aircraft.

Ross lowered Faulkner into a comfortable leather chair and fastened his seatbelt, while William placed a small package in an overhead locker before they both took their places on either side of the prisoner. The stewards slammed the aircraft door closed and moments later the plane began to taxi towards the south runway.

• • •

‘Damn,’ said Booth Watson, as the taxi came to a halt by his side. ‘Damn,’ he repeated before telling the cabbie he’d forgotten his passport, but would be back in a few minutes.

The cabbie smiled. A trip to Heathrow with a sober passenger wasn’t his usual fare at that time in the morning.

As Booth Watson unlocked his front door, he tried to remember if he’d left his passport in chambers. He almost ran to his study. The next word he uttered was also four letters, and it wasn’t damn.

• • •

Once the plane had reached its cruising height, William picked up the phone in Faulkner’s armrest and called Danny at home.

‘Get yourself to Heathrow, sharpish,’ he said, before Danny had a chance to speak.

‘Which terminal, sir?’

‘Number one, the private aircraft stand. We should be there at,’ he checked his watch, ‘around five o’clock.’

‘The taxi or a squad car?’

‘A squad car,’ said William. ‘I’m not taking Faulkner back to prison in a taxi.’ After hanging up, he glanced across at the prisoner, who looked as if he was about to emerge from a deep sleep.

‘Which one of us will be calling the commander?’ asked Ross innocently.

‘I will,’ said William. ‘But not until Faulkner’s safely locked up.’

• • •

When Booth Watson’s taxi dropped him off at Heathrow fifty minutes later, the first thing he did on entering the airport was to check the departure board. The first flight to Barcelona was due to leave in forty minutes, and there wasn’t another scheduled until a British Airways flight took off in a couple of hours’ time.

He headed for the Iberia desk to be told by the booking clerk that the only seat available was near the back of the plane. He reluctantly handed over his credit card, aware that he couldn’t afford to hang around and wait for a first-class seat on BA.