‘Who won the jackpot?’ Jackie asked, even before she’d taken off her coat.
‘I did,’ said Lamont.
‘Damn.’
‘And what did you predict?’ William asked her.
‘Six months suspended. So not only did I lose, but you also beat me, jammy bastard.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The judge threw my first case out of court, and me with it. I left a crucial piece of evidence in my car, so the defendant was released before he even made it to the witness box.’
William burst out laughing.
‘Right,’ said Lamont. ‘Let’s all get back to work. Jackie, I need you to take me through the details for tomorrow night’s operation before I can finally give it the green light.’
&
nbsp; Jackie went quickly across to her desk and grabbed the relevant file.
‘And, William, the copy of the Rembrandt has been placed in a locked van that you’ll find in the car park. Collect the keys from reception and be on your way. Not that anyone’s betting on you getting past the front gate.’
‘Did Faulkner fly to Monte Carlo yesterday?’ William asked.
‘Yes, he landed in Nice around midday, and isn’t expected back for at least another month.’
Commander Hawksby poked his head round the door. ‘So, what was the verdict?’
‘One year suspended,’ said Lamont.
‘Damn.’
‘Dare I ask, sir?’ said William.
‘Fifty hours community service.’
‘Can DS Roycroft and I come and see you, sir, once I’ve finalized the details for “Operation Blue Period”?’ said Lamont.
‘Yes, of course, Bruce. And good luck with Mrs Faulkner, William.’
William reported to reception and collected the keys for the van, before heading down to the underground car park. He checked that the crate containing the painting was safely stored in the back of the van before driving out of the Yard and onto Broadway. During the journey to Limpton, he went over parts A, B and C of his plan, aware that he could be on his way back to the Yard within an hour if he didn’t get past the front door.
When he left Beth that morning, he’d promised to be back in time for supper.
‘With all six Syndics safely in the back of the van,’ she teased.
Conscious of the painting in the back, William never exceeded the speed limit. He’d been warned by Lamont that if it wasn’t returned in perfect condition, Mr Booth Watson QC would be demanding compensation for his client before the end of the week.
When he reached the picturesque village of Limpton in Hampshire, it wasn’t difficult to work out where the Faulkners lived. Limpton Hall stood proudly on a hill that dominated the landscape. William followed a sign that took him along a winding country lane for another couple of miles, before he came to a halt outside a pair of iron gates, stone pillars surmounted by crouching lions on either side.
He got out of the car and walked up to the gates to find two buzzers nestled in the wall. One had a brass plaque reading ‘Limpton Hall’, and another below, ‘Tradesmen’. He pressed the top button and immediately regretted his decision, as he might have had a better chance of getting inside the house if he’d pressed Tradesmen. A voice on the intercom demanded, ‘Who is it?’
‘I have a special delivery for Mr Faulkner.’
William held his breath, and to his surprise the gates swung open.
He drove slowly, admiring the centuries-old oaks that lined the long drive as he considered the next part of his plan. Eventually he pulled up in front of a house that wouldn’t have looked out of place on the cover of Country Life.