She began tapping away on her computer.
‘The 5.05 to Dublin. Took off on time.’
‘He wouldn’t have made it,’ said Ross.
‘The 5.40 for Newcastle departed twenty minutes late.’
‘That would have meant he was stuck in England overnight.’
‘Moscow at 5.50,’ said the woman, still staring at her console.
‘I don’t think so,’ said William.
‘The 6.10 to Brussels.’
‘A possibility.’
‘There was the 6.20 to Edinburgh.’
‘No,’ said William.
‘Or the 7.10 to Copenhagen.’
‘He wouldn’t have wanted to hang about that long,’ said William. ‘It has to be Brussels.’
‘I doubt if that was his final destination,’ said Ross. ‘Just the first plane that would get him out of the country.’
‘Agreed,’ said William, and thanked the woman before he and Ross made their way across to the Sabena booking desk. This time, William produced his warrant card before he asked his first question.
‘I’d like to see your passenger list for yesterday afternoon’s 6.10 flight for Brussels.’
‘Are you looking for a particular name, sir?’ asked the woman, as she tapped away, before checking the screen in front of her.
‘Captain Ralph Neville.’
She double-checked the passenger list before saying, ‘No one registered under that name is showing up on my screen for the flight.’
‘Miles Faulkner?’ suggested Ross, not looking at all confident.
‘No,’ she replied, her eyes still fixed on the monitor. Ross produced a photograph. She took a careful look and then shook her head. ‘Can’t say I remember him.’
William tried a long shot. ‘Did anyone book in at the last minute and pay for his ticket with cash?’
‘There was one gentleman who was quite late booking, and he wasn’t pleased when we couldn’t find him a seat in first class.’
‘Do you recall his name?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘Are we going to risk it?’ asked Ross.
‘Is there a flight to Brussels this evening?’ asked William, answering the question.
‘The 6.10. Same time every day. I have two first-class tickets available.’
‘I don’t think so,’ said William, giving her a warm smile. ‘Two economy will be just fine,’ he added, passing over his credit card.
‘One-way or return?’
‘One-way. We can’t be sure where we’ll be going next.’
This was one customer she wasn’t going to forget easily.
‘Hang about for the tickets, Ross, while I explain to Danny why we won’t be going back to the Yard.’
Danny was pleased to hear he could return to London and take the rest of the day off. The Chief Inspector’s idea of a joke.
‘But not before you’ve handed in the chauffeur’s hat to forensics. I’ve already told them to let me know if they find any dabs on it that match up with Miles Faulkner’s.’
Danny touched his forehead with the fingers of his right hand and asked, ‘Will you be needing me tomorrow, guv?’
‘If I do, it will be to drop me off at the jobcentre,’ said William, ‘but I’ll let you know.’
He strolled back into the airport to see Ross deep in conversation with another man, who was frowning.
‘We’ve got a problem,’ said Ross, as William joined them. ‘Passports, or lack of them. This is Thomas King, head of security. He’s happy to arrange a temporary travel visa, but he needs the authority of a commander or above before he can authorize it. I’m certainly not going to call The Hawk at home on a Sunday evening.’
William picked up the phone on the counter and dialled a number even Ross didn’t know.
The Hawk listened with interest to how Chief Inspector Warwick and DI Hogan had spent their Sunday. ‘Put him on,’ was all he said.
William handed the phone to the security officer, who said, ‘Yes, sir’ several times, before passing the phone back to William.
‘If you come back without Faulkner, don’t bother to put in a claim for your expenses,’ were The Hawk’s parting words.
‘Thank you, sir,’ said William, before he put the phone down.
‘Are we still going to Brussels?’ asked Ross.
‘Yes,’ said William, ‘but only one of us may be coming back.’
Not long after William had fastened his seatbelt and the Boeing 727 had taken off, he fell asleep for the first time since he’d arrived back from New York.