‘No, sir.’ Lamont said, having decided not to tell Booth Watson about the engagement ring. That would be worth another brown envelope in a couple of weeks’ time. He rose from his place, but didn’t shake hands before he left the room and closed the door quietly behind him.

Booth Watson took his time studying the five files Warwick’s team had compiled especially for him. He would have to get in touch with each of his former clients to warn them that their cases had been reopened, which would require several consultations after which he would advise them to do nothing.

He then returned to the Josephine Colbert file and read it a second time. He’d had a very productive meeting with Ms Colbert earlier in the week, which might just have produced the breakthrough he’d been waiting for. DI Ross Hogan was, as Lamont had suggested in his report, clearly besotted with her and, thought Booth Watson, long may he be so. She had also confirmed the five murder cases Warwick was working on and the two in particular that Hogan had been assigned. More importantly, she confirmed that Hogan had never once mentioned the name of Miles Faulkner to her, which he considered an added bonus. No news is good news, he would assure Miles when he next visited Franco’s secret hideaway.

However, the triumph of the week had been his monthly meeting with Christina Faulkner, when she’d told him that the Fitzmolean had been approached by a Lord McLaren, who’d recently inherited not only his title, but also the death duties that went with it. As a result, he had been left with no choice but to sell his treasured Caravaggio, which he was hoping would fetch at least twenty million. Booth Watson would need to have a word with another of his ‘special consultants’ who worked in the tax office.

This could well be a golden opportunity to extract a percentage from both sides, as long as he was able to convince Miles to allow him to act as the go-between. He’d make sure his client was well aware how foolish it would be for him to visit Scotland to view the painting, however great the temptation.

Booth Watson was looking forward to his next trip to Barcelona; so much to report that would once again make him look indispensable.

He locked the updated file in his Miles Faulkner cabinet, which even his secretary didn’t have a key to.

CHAPTER 14

‘RIGHT, WHO’S GOING TO KICK off?’ asked the commander. A hand shot up, and The Hawk nodded.

‘I had another meeting with Lamont on Friday evening,’ said Jackie.

‘Where?’ asked William.

‘A little pub behind King’s Cross station that neither the police nor any self-respecting criminal would consider frequenting.’

‘Do you think he suspects which side you’re on?’

‘I don’t think so. I ended up getting pissed and he had to drive me home.’

The rest of the team laughed.

‘Mind you,’ she continued, ‘I’d discreetly emptied most of my double gins into a flowerpot behind me. I’m only surprised the poor plant survived the evening.’