“He says that the briefcase contained some copies of private family papers, wills and that sort of thing, all of which he can have copied by his lawyers who hold the originals. He just wants to leave, and he isn’t being particularly helpful.”

“Sounds odd to me,” I said. “Why travel halfway across London to get some copies of papers out of a safety deposit box when your lawyer has the originals? It doesn’t make sense. I assume we’re all thinking the same thing, that he’s just had the diamonds stolen from him?” All heads nodded.

“He must be worried, because Europol informed us that early this morning Van Aart transferred a quarter of a million Euros to the bank account of Euro Union Financial Enterprises, the main signatory being one Arthur Hickstead. I guess that was the payment for the diamonds,” DS Fellowes contributed.

***

“Is everything in place?” Inspector Boniface asked. It was. “Right. Thank Lord Hickstead for his assistance and offer to take him home. In any event, escort him out of the building, understood?” The person on the other end of the phone seemed to understand.

The video screen lit up, showing a blue screen bearing the name of the projector company. After a few seconds the picture changed to show a wide view of a comfortable room, where a middle aged man with a balding pate and overly long grey hair sat on a sofa.

It was my arch nemesis, Lord Hickstead. I didn’t know how I felt. I should have been angry, but he looked so defeated, so unthreatening. He must have been really shaken up by the day’s events, I thought. I had to remind myself that this was my blackmailer, and that I shouldn’t be feeling sorry for him. He looked vulnerable. It was that very vulnerability which Inspector Boniface was hoping to exploit.

Assistant Commissioner Bryn Evans came into the picture. “Lord Hickstead, I am very sorry that you have been here so long, but the suspect is in our custody. Unfortunately he did not have your briefcase in his possession, and I’m afraid its whereabouts are presently unknown. I fear you may not see it again.”

The camera caught a look of relief passing briefly across Hickstead’s face, presumably because the diamonds would have tied him into the blackmail plots and the deaths of three people.

“Here is your watch, Lord Hickstead. You were quite right; it had no skin or blood or hair that we could have matched with the suspect’s DNA profile. It’s a very nice watch, I must say. Far too expensive for a policeman, though.” He laughed at his own joke, and Hickstead smiled.

“Sergeant Baines will show you out.” The two men shook hands and the pretty and petite policewoman led His Lordship towards the lifts. The camera view shifted to the lift lobby. After a minute of video of the reception area we saw the Sergeant and the Peer exit the lift and walk into a tastefully appointed area which serves as a waiting room.

At first the Peer was so busy chatting up Sergeant Baines that he did not look at the row of padded seats. These were occupied by two people wearing visitor badges and looking nervous. As they moved further into the lobby the screen split; one long shot, one close up of Hickstead.

The screen split at almost the precise moment that Lord Hickstead saw them sitting less than five metres away; Abasi Nour, the jeweller, and Kelvin de Montagu, the art gallery owner. His face registered shock, and he immediately turned his head away from the two men.

Under strict orders Sergeant Baines said, “Oh, Your Lordship, I’ll need your badge so that I can sign you out.” She left him standing in the middle of the lobby with every eye looking at him, each person wondering whether they ought to know him by sight.

The video screen reverted to a single wide shot of the reception area and I watched for a reaction from our two stooges. Whilst De Montagu registered nothing more than general curiosity, Mr Nour looked puzzled. After a moment he caught sight of the watch and stared intently at Lord Hickstead’s face, before his jaw dropped and his face paled.

Confirmation, as if we needed it.

***

Lord Hickstead was being escorted home, hopefully feeling nervous, or at least unsettled, and Mr Nour was now showing on the screen. Inspector Boniface was sitting opposite him, smiling, trying to calm the old Egyptian.

“Mr Nour, I’d like to thank you for coming in today. Have you been treated well?”

“Yes, sir, I have. The young policeman who took me through my statement said that you were making progress. Does this mean I can have my money back? I have done nothing wrong.”

“Mr Nour, we will release your money very soon, I can assure you. Now, one further question, if that’s all right. The watch you were shown during your interview; was that the type of watch you saw on your Josh Hammond?”

“Yes, exactly the same. Where did you get it? They are very rare, I know.”

“We have our sources. Why do you ask?” the Inspector asked, seemingly innocently.

“I don’t know that I should say.”

“Come along, Mr Nour, you can trust me. Anything else you can remember will speed up the release of your money.”

The video screen showed a close up of Mr Nour. “I am not sure, I cannot say with firmness, but a few minutes ago I saw a man downstairs, Lord Hickwell or something.”

“Lord Hickstead,” Boniface provided helpfully. “Yes, go on.”

“Well, he was wearing the same watch, and when I looked into his eyes, they were the eyes of Mr Hammond, the man who deceived me with his silly toupee.”

Inspector Boniface registered shock on his face. “Mr Nour, are you saying that Lord Hickstead was the man posing as Josh Hammond in your diamond deal?”

“I believe so, yes, but I am sure no-one will believe me. He is a Lord, after all, and probably has an estate in the beautiful English countryside. But when I looked into his eyes I do believe he recognised me. I know it sounds foolish, but it is what I saw.”

Boniface asked Mr Nour to keep his views to himself and, having added the latest revelation to the bottom of the witness statement as an addendum, he had Mr Nour sign it again.

***

Mr De Montagu could add nothing to his statement and had nothing to say about the set up in the reception area, and so he and Mr Nour were thanked and allowed to go.

The video screen was switched off and the bank of fluorescent lights came on. The same group sat around the table once again, with the addition of Assistant Commissioner Evans.

Clockwise around the table I saw AC Evans at the head, sitting under the video screen. To his left sat DS Scott and DS Fellowes, Dee was next, and I sat beside her. Boniface and Coombes completed the line up.

Assistant Commissioner Evans summarised the day. “So far, today has had its ups and downs but, on the whole, I think we have our man on the hook. Now we just need to reel him in. I think we’re unlikely to get a warrant to search the Parliament Street apartment, but I do believe we’ll get a warrant for CitySafe Depository, or at least for one of its boxes.”

I was surprised at that, and said so. “Assistant Commissioner, I thought that safe deposit boxes were sacrosanct, and that the banks protected their customers with their lives?”

“Mr Hammond, you’re quite right, to a degree, but these depositories are not banks and nor do they share the same privileges. Perhaps DCI Coombes can explain.”

We all turned to look at the grumpy policeman.

“In 2008 I headed an investigation into money laundering, and it led us to various safe deposit boxes at three locations; Park Lane, Hampstead and Edgware. We raided the premises simultaneously. There were at least fifty officers involved, and with angle grinders and other heavy tools we opened the suspect boxes.

Ninety percent of the boxes we opened contained evidence of criminality. As a result we arrested a significant number of criminals, as well as some of the depository owners, and recovered many millions of pounds in cash, jewellery and art.”