Hidden in Plain Sight (Detective William Warwick 2)

“However,” continued the commander, “the commissioner, in his wisdom, felt a winning team shouldn’t be broken up, so you two will be joining him as part of an elite drugs unit on the first of the month.”

“I resign,” said Lamont, leaping to his feet in mock protest.

“I don’t think so, Bruce. You only have eighteen months left before you retire, and as the head of the new unit, you’ll be promoted to detective superintendent.”

This announcement provoked a second eruption of enthusiastic banging on the table.

“The unit is to work separately from any of the existing drugs squads. It will only have one purpose, which I will come to in a moment. But first, I wanted to let you know that the team will have a new DC added to its complement, who may even outshine our resident choirboy.”

“This I want to see,” said Jackie.

“Well, you won’t have to wait long. He’ll be joining us in a few minutes. He has an outstanding CV, having read law at Cambridge where he was awarded a blue in the Boat Race.”

“Did he win?” asked William.

“Two years in a row,” said the Hawk.

“Then perhaps he should have joined the river police,” said William. “If I remember correctly, the Boat Race takes place between Putney and Mortlake, so he’d be back on the beat.” This elicited more banging on the table.

“I think you’ll find he’s just as impress

ive on dry land,” said the commander, after the applause had died down. “He’s already served for three years with the Regional Crime Squad in Crawley. However, there’s something else I ought to mention before—”

A sharp knock on the door interrupted the Hawk before he could finish the sentence. “Enter,” he said.

The door opened and a tall, handsome young man entered the room. He looked as if he’d stepped straight off the set of a popular television police drama, rather than just arrived from the Regional Crime Squad.

“Good afternoon, sir,” he said. “I’m DC Paul Adaja. I was told to report to you.”

“Take a seat, Adaja,” said the Hawk, “and I’ll introduce you to the rest of the team.”

William watched Lamont’s face closely as Adaja shook hands with an unsmiling superintendent. The Met’s policy was to try and recruit more officers from minority ethnic backgrounds, but to date it had been about as successful in that ambition as it had been at arresting diamond smugglers. William was curious to find out why someone like Paul had even considered joining the force, and was determined to make him quickly feel part of the team.

“These SIO meetings are held every Monday morning, DC Adaja,” said the commander, “to bring us all up to date on how any major investigations are progressing.”

“Or not progressing,” said Lamont.

“Let’s move on,” said the Hawk, ignoring the interruption. “Is there any more news on Faulkner?”

“His wife Christina’s been in touch again,” said William. “She’s asked to see me.”

“Has she indeed. Any clues?”

“No, sir. I’ve no idea what she wants. But she makes no secret of the fact that she’s just as keen as we are to see her husband behind bars. So, I don’t imagine she’s suggesting tea at the Ritz simply to sample their clotted cream scones.”

“Mrs. Faulkner will be well aware of any other criminal activities her husband is involved in, which would be useful for us to know about,” said Lamont, “in advance. But I wouldn’t trust that woman an inch.”

“Neither would I,” said Hawksby. “But if I had to choose between Faulkner and his wife, I consider her the lesser of two evils. But only by half an inch.”

“I could always turn the invitation down.”

“No way,” said Lamont. “We may never get a better chance to put Faulkner behind bars, and don’t let’s forget, however minor the offense, because of the judge’s suspended sentence, it would put him inside for at least four years.”

“True enough,” said the Hawk. “But, DS Warwick, you can be sure Faulkner will be watching us just as closely as we’re watching him, and he’s certain to have a PI tailing his wife around the clock, until the divorce is finally settled. So while tea at the Ritz is acceptable, dinner is not. Do I make myself clear?”

“Abundantly, sir, and I’m sure Beth would agree with you.”

“And never forget that Mrs. Faulkner’s slips of the tongue have always been well rehearsed. And she’s also well aware that everything she tells you will be repeated word for word the moment you arrive back at the Yard.”