Page 72 of Next in Line

‘No, that’s the strange thing,’ said the Hawk. ‘When Faulkner was returning to his cell following a visitor’s meeting thisafternoon, he looked up at the gallery and gave a clear message to one of our lip-readers.’

‘What was the message?’

‘“I need to see Superintendent Warwick urgently.”’

‘He’s got a nerve.’

‘Agreed,’ said the Hawk. ‘But if you refuse to see him, and it turns out he has information that could prevent a serious crime, it would only give Booth Watson even more ammunition to regale the jury with when his case comes to court.’

‘But if he’s pleading guilty,’ said William, ‘there won’t be a trial.’

‘Unless he’s decided to change his plea and wants to make a deal.’

‘Who was visiting him at the time?’ was William’s next question.

‘Lamont.’

‘Then why didn’t Faulkner gethimto pass on the message?’

‘I’ve asked myself that question a dozen times, and have come to the conclusion Faulkner simply doesn’t trust him.’

‘Well, at least that’s something we can agree on,’ said William. ‘But why would Faulkner have agreed to see him in the first place?’

‘All the lip-readers could come up with,’ said the Hawk, ‘was art collection, Lee, bank manager and Booth Watson.’

‘I have a feeling Rebecca will enjoy working out the thread that links those particular words,’ said William. ‘But it still doesn’t explain why Faulkner didn’t go through the usual channels and ask Booth Watson to deliver the message, if it’s that urgent.’

‘Perhaps he no longer trusts him either.’

‘You could be right,’ said William. ‘I’ve never understoodwhy Miles Faulkner, of all people, caved in so easily and agreed to only a couple of years being knocked off his sentence, when he had so much ammunition to fire at us.’

‘Only Booth Watson knows the answer to that,’ said the Hawk. ‘And sometimes his right hand doesn’t know what his left hand is up to.’

‘Remembering the fuss Faulkner kicked up when we got him back from Spain,’ said William. ‘I’ve been waiting for Booth Watson to throw a damn sight more than the kitchen sink at us.’

‘Which suggests to me,’ said the Hawk, ‘that what Faulkner wants to discuss so urgently has nothing to do with his trial. Frankly there’s only one way we’re going to find out what it is.’

William looked out onto the pitch, and tried to concentrate on two problems at once.

‘If you do decide to see him,’ continued the commander, ‘take someone with you, so they can record every word he says, because I still wouldn’t trust that man one inch.’

‘And despite that, you still think it’s a risk worth taking?’

‘I don’t think we’ve been left with a lot of choice, Superintendent,’ said the Hawk as a spectator drifted within earshot. ‘It’s going down to the wire,’ he added, stating the obvious.

William glanced at the scoreboard, as he tried to concentrate on the game. The opposition captain was tossing the ball to the fast bowler who had removed Paul in the first over.

‘Eight runs to get off the last over,’ mused the Hawk. ‘That shouldn’t be a problem with Ross at the crease.’

They both switched their attention to what was happening in the middle, where the bowler, with a venomous look on his face, was charging in to deliver the first ball of the final over.

Ross leant back and hit an attempted yorker through the covers for two, but didn’t set off for what would have been a comfortable third, as he wanted to retain the strike. He blocked the next two deliveries, leaving the royals still needing six runs off the last three balls.

‘Shouldn’t be too difficult,’ declared the Hawk confidently.

William didn’t offer an opinion.

The next ball was overpitched, and Ross swept it to the boundary, leaving just two runs required from the last two balls of the match. The bowler furiously polished the ball on his red-stained flannels, before charging in once again and delivering a bouncer that flew over Ross’s shoulder, leaving him needing to score two runs off the final delivery.