Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

M ILES TOOK HIS TIME FILLING in the form, especially when it came to previous offences .

After signing his name on the bottom line, he posted the application recorded delivery, but didn't receive a reply confirming his request had been granted for another five days.

He made a note in his diary.

···

Ross burst into William's office when he was on the phone. ‘Faulkner's applied for a prison visit next Thursday,' he said.

‘I'll call you back,' said William, before putting down the phone. He looked at Ross and all he asked was, ‘Who?'

‘Tulip. His eyes and ears when he was in the Scrubs.'

‘Serving twelve years for the murder of a police witness during one of Faulkner's earlier trials, if I remember correctly.'

‘The same,' said Ross.

‘Then I want to know every word that passes between them, because it may be our only hope of finding out what the connection is between Miles Faulkner and Prince Ahmed.'

Ross nodded. ‘I'll have the four best lip readers available on the balcony, picking up every word.'

‘They'll need to be good, because those two will know they're up there.'

‘They're the best,' said Ross, ‘and Faulkner and Tulip may not be able to spot them,' he added without explanation.

‘And Ross,' said William firmly, as he got up and turned to leave, ‘for obvious reasons I don't want any of our team anywhere near the Scrubs next Thursday. So pick your contacts carefully, because one or two of the prison officers could well be on Faulkner's payroll.'

‘I'll keep the information to the bare minimum and report back to you.'

William picked up the phone as the door closed, dialled a number and said, ‘Sorry about that, sir, but I think we may have a breakthrough in the Faulkner case.'

···

Miles was driven into the visitors' car park long before the appointed hour. He strolled across to the waiting room and filled in yet another form before he was handed a disc with the number three on it. He then exchanged a five-pound note for five canteen vouchers, took a seat and waited and waited. He finally gave up and began to read the Prison News .

‘Numbers one to five,' said a prison officer just before three o'clock struck. Miles rose and, along with seven other visitors and one protesting baby, followed the officer out of the waiting room, across a yard and into the reception area. He handed over his mobile phone, wallet and leather belt, not needing to be told he could pick them back up after the visit.

The same officer led the eight visitors out of the reception area, across the barren weed-infested yard surrounded by a high wall that Miles had stared at for three years.

Miles shivered when he stepped back into the prison and was escorted down a long brick corridor to another waiting area. He joined a little queue at the mobile canteen, handed over his five coupons and in return received a cup of coffee, a ham sandwich, two bars of KitKat and a packet of cigarettes. He wasn't offered any change.

A buzzer sounded. Two officers appeared and led the first eight visitors into a large open room full of circular tables spread well apart from each other. There was a red chair on one side of each table for the prisoner and two blue chairs on the other for his visitors.

Miles looked around the room to see Tulip giving him a wave. He weaved his way through the tables and, when he reached the prisoner, placed all his purchases on his side of the table.

‘Don't look up,' said Tulip as Miles took the seat opposite him. ‘I've already spotted two lip readers on the balcony, and I assume there have to be more.'

‘Then I'll act as the ventriloquist,' said Miles, ‘and you can be my dummy. I'll make it clear what I want, while you talk gibberish.'

Tulip nodded. ‘I read all about the Angel shutting herself in the toilet in the Sun ,' he said. ‘You must have enjoyed that. So what's next?'

‘I need a removal man and quickly,' said Miles, his head bowed, his lips barely moving.

‘I hope you like the Water Lilies that Billy Mumford painted for you,' said Tulip, after taking a sip of coffee.

‘What's the going rate?'

‘What do you expect him to paint next, the Virgin Mary?'

‘No. A prostitute from Putney.'

‘I think he's now charging around twenty thousand, possibly more. But he'll need a photo of the model.'

‘Tell him to visit me at my office overlooking the river, when I'll hand over a photo and the cash.'

‘I'll let him know,' said Tulip as he grabbed the ham sandwich and took a bite, before asking, ‘When?'

‘Sunday, three o'clock,' said Miles, his lips not moving. ‘It's always the busiest time of day. But warn him I'm being followed, so only join me if I put my hands in my pockets.'

‘I'll let him know,' said Tulip, before taking another bite of his sandwich.

‘What are your chances of parole?' asked Miles, speaking normally now that he had completed his business.

‘I've had my first interview,' said Tulip. ‘Tried to convince them I was a reformed character and had turned over a new leaf.'

‘When will you find out if they believe you?'

‘Not for several months,' said Tulip. ‘Nothing, as you know, moves quickly in prison.'

‘Are you still working in the library?'

‘Yep, it's still the easiest job in this place – and allows me to keep in touch with everything that's going on in the outside world.'

A buzzer sounded to warn visitors they only had another five minutes.

Miles looked around to see lovers kissing their partners and fathers hugging children. At the next table, a woman cradling a baby in her arms couldn't stop crying.

‘Anything you need?' asked Miles.

‘No,' said Tulip. ‘Thanks to you, I'm well taken care of.' He leant back and drained his coffee.

The buzzer sounded a second time.

‘See you next Sunday,' said Miles, who rose from his place and made his way quickly out of the room so that he would be among the first to be escorted back to reception. He didn't look back, but if he had, he would have seen Tulip devouring the second KitKat and placing the packet of cigarettes in his pocket before being escorted back to his cell.

Miles joined a group of visitors who were being accompanied to reception, where he collected his mobile phone and wallet and slipped on his belt.

Once he'd escaped – because that's how it felt – Miles returned to his car and was driven away by the only chauffeur in the car park.

···

The lip reader in chief, as she was known at the Scrubs, arrived at Scotland Yard just after Miles had reached his home in Chelsea.

Once Kimberley Young had introduced herself to the two police officers, William didn't waste any time before asking his first question: ‘Did your team come up with anything we might find helpful?'

‘Hard to tell,' admitted Kimberley, ‘because they were clearly aware of our presence and played the double conversation trick to near perfection. While one of them delivered a well-prepared script, the visitor replied while his lips barely moved. So we have one side of a non sequitur conversation, while the other is a series of random words that I can only hope will mean something to you. However, even the most accomplished ventriloquist finds certain letters are almost impossible to pronounce without their lips moving.'

‘Which ones?' asked William.

‘B F M P R W all present their own problems. I challenge you to say, without moving your lips: Betty Wilson works at a beauty parlour in Peterborough and is married to a farm labourer from Richmond who smokes Benson and Hedges.'

Both of them had given up before they reached Peterborough.

Having proved her point, Kimberley handed over a second sheet of paper, with the few words her team had managed to pick up from Faulkner's conversation. Removal, prostitute, Putney, followed by three, busiest, plus hands in my pockets , my office overlooking the river and see you next Sunday .

They both studied the words for some time before William said, ‘He must have been asking Tulip to recommend a hit man to remove Avril, and he wants to meet him at his office overlooking the river.'

‘On Sunday at three o'clock,' added Ross.

‘What makes you say that?' asked Kimberley.

‘Because Faulkner doesn't have an appointment to see Tulip next Sunday,' said William.

‘And in any case, Billy the Forger would never expect to be paid twenty thousand, even for a painting of the Virgin Mary,' said Ross.

‘The river in question has to be the Thames, but our Marine Unit can't be expected to patrol the thirty-seven miles from one end to the other,' said William, ‘even if we have got the time right.'

‘They could be meeting on a barge, river boat, even a ferry,' suggested Ross.

‘Unlikely,' said Kimberley. ‘One of my team would have picked up river boat, barge or ferry. R B B and F,' she reminded them.

‘But,' said William, ‘how did you pick up see you next Sunday when Faulkner could have delivered that sentence without having to move his lips?'

‘Because at the time,' said Kimberley, ‘I was sitting on the next table to Faulkner, clutching onto a baby while my deputy sat opposite me. Not something we'll be able to do twice,' admitted Kimberley. ‘But you did tell me, Inspector, that it was top priority, as a young lady's life might be in danger.'

‘Is in danger,' said William.