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* * *

“Am I to understand, Sir Julian, that you wish to make a statement on behalf of the Crown?” inquired Mr. Justice Baverstock.

“That is correct, m’lud. With your permission, the Crown will be dropping the first charge on the indictment, namely intent to supply. However, we still intend to proceed with the second charge, that of possession of a controlled substance, namely twelve grams of cocaine.”

The judge raised an eyebrow, as he had been privy to the advice the DPP had given Sir Julian to drop both charges and beat an expeditious retreat. He was surprised that such a normally cautious man would ignore such sage opinion.

“So be it, Sir Julian. Then you may call your next witness.”

“I call Detective Superintendent Lamont.”

* * *

The first thing William did on arriving back at the Yard later that evening, was to ask the commander if there was any news about Paul.

“It’s not good, I’m afraid,” said Hawksby. “He had a collision with another motorbike on his way back from the airport, and both of them ended up in hospital.” William looked anxious. “But Paul got off pretty lightly, just a few cuts and bruises, and he should be discharged in a couple of days. Tulip unfortunately broke a leg, and won’t be leaving the hospital for some time.” The flicker of a smile appeared on the commander’s face.

“Has he been arrested for Heath’s murder?”

“Yes. The murder squad took care of that, and they’ll post a guard outside his room night and day.”

“Then I’ll complete my report, and leave it on Superintendent Lamont’s desk before I leave tonight.”

“Good,” said the Hawk. “Bruce was sorry that he couldn’t help you out, but at short notice, he was asked to give evidence at Faulkner’s trial.”

“How did he get on?”

“Couldn’t have done better. In fact, I’d be surprised if Booth Watson bothers to cross-examine him in the morning. It will only give him yet another chance to repeat the question, if Faulkner didn’t put those drugs in the statue, who did?”

“Did the Crown raise the subject of the twenty-pound note?”

“No. I have a feeling they’re saving that bombshell for when Sir Julian cross-examines Faulkner.”

“That’s assuming he gets the chance,” said William. “If Faulkner doesn’t go into the witness box, my father won’t be allowed to present it as new evidence.”

“Strange,” said the Hawk. “It’s so unlike Sir Julian to take such a risk.”

“But it’s not unlike his daughter,” said William.

“Then let’s hope they don’t both live to regret it.”

* * *

William unlocked the door, hoping that a quiet evening at home with his wife would help put the image of Adrian Heath’s dead body out of his mind. But when he stepped into the hall, he was greeted by a tearful, pregnant Beth, who threw her arms around him and clung on tightly.

“Now I know what Josephine Hawksby meant when she told me the thing she most dreaded was the day when her husband didn’t come home.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” said William, trying to reassure her.

“But to see your friend butchered in that way, and you helpless to do anything about it.”

“How did you find out?” asked William.

“The story’s been leading the news programs all evening, and Jackie rang to tell me you were the first officer on the scene.”

“I was, but I’ll be fine,” he said, hoping he sounded convincing.

“You don’t look fine,” said Beth, as she started to remove his bloodstained shirt, only to be reminded of another scar from an earlier encounter in his career. But she feared this one would be mental, not physical. “I wish you’d called me.”

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