‘How long will that take?’ asked Ross.
‘Days, weeks, could be months,’ said Sanchez, as the phone on the desk began to ring again. After two rings it ceased, and William assumed it had been answered on another extension somewhere in the building.
Sanchez grabbed the receiver, to hear a conversation taking place between the butler and a woman with whom he’d crossed swords many times in the past.
‘Who’s the officer in charge?’ said a no-nonsense voice.
‘Lieutenant Sanchez,’ said the detective, interrupting them.
‘Good afternoon, lieutenant,’ she said, as if addressing a junior colleague.
‘Good afternoon, se?ora.’
‘Let me make it clear from the outset, lieutenant,’ she said, trying to sound reasonable, ‘if I find that anything in my client’s home has been tampered with, I will not hesitate to sue the police and hold you personally responsible. Is that understood?’
‘Yes, se?ora.’
‘So there can be no misunderstanding at a later date, Lieutenant Sanchez, I’ll ask you once again. Is that understood?’
‘Absolutamente, se?ora,’ said Sanchez, and slammed down the phone.
‘So, Faulkner’s eluded us again,’ said Ross.
‘Not necessarily,’ said Sanchez. ‘I’ll put a couple of patrol cars on the road between here and the motorway, so if he tries to escape we’ll be waiting for him.’
‘What about the other side of the house?’ asked William.
‘He’d be faced with a sheer cliff. Franco chose this location so he could never be taken by surprise. It doesn’t help that Faulkner will know only too well I don’t have the resources to mount a twenty-four/seven operation for too long. Everything is budgets nowadays,’ he added with a sigh.
‘Then we’ll have to return when he least expects us,’ said William.
‘When you do, please keep me in the loop,’ said Sanchez. ‘Because Faulkner is someone I’d like to meet.’
Ross smiled, but didn’t comment. The Spanish equivalent of turning a blind eye.
‘But until then,’ said Sanchez, ‘there’s not much more we can do today, so I may as well drive you back to the airport?’
William turned to see that Ross had dropped to his knees, and was carefully examining the bottom left-hand corner of the iron door. ‘Anything of interest?’ he asked.
‘Nothing, sir,’ replied Ross, getting slowly to his feet.
The ‘sir’ told William that Ross had spotted something he didn’t want to share with Sanchez.
Ross and William followed the lieutenant out of the room. Half-way down along the corridor, William paused to take a closer look at The Flute Player hanging on the wall and frowned.
‘Something special about that one, chief?’ asked Ross.
‘I’m afraid so. My wife’s not going to be pleased when I tell her she can cross it off her list.’
? ? ?
Faulkner put down the phone in his basement study, satisfied that his Spanish lawyer would have dealt with the immediate problem, and it wouldn’t be too long before the police were sent packing. But how long would it be before they came back in even greater numbers?
He flicked open the cover of his private phone book and leafed through the pages until he reached the Rs, only hoping the number wasn’t out of date. Miles sat back in his chair and rehearsed exactly what he was going to say, before he picked up the phone and dialled the number.
The ringing tone continued for some time before the phone was eventually picked up and a voice said, ‘Who’s this?’
‘Miles Faulkner. You may not remember me, but …’
‘Mr Faulkner. How could I forget? To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?’
‘Who am I speaking to?’
‘This is the head of the family.’
‘I want to pass on a message to your son, Terry.’
‘I’m all ears, Mr Faulkner.’
‘I need him to do a job for me.’
‘Understood. But first we have to agree on a price.’
‘What’s the going rate?’
‘Depends on how high-profile they are.’
‘The wife of a police officer.’
‘That won’t come cheap, Mr Faulkner.’
‘How much?’
‘Shall we say ten grand?’
‘Fine,’ said Faulkner, accepting that this wasn’t a time to bargain.
‘How will I be paid?’
‘Ex-Superintendent Bruce Lamont will deliver the cash to you tomorrow morning.’