They walked upstairs, the door to No. 4 was still open. The flat had the same stale aroma as the front hall, it was a cheap rental property, with little furniture. “I say again, what is the meaning of this?” snorted Depardon, Templeman showed Depardon his warrant card. “Special Branch? Why is Special Branch involved?”
“We were in the neighbourhood,” said Templeman, obliquely, “and we have concerns about the contents of the bag.” Depardon’s eyes flicked between the three men and the bag rapidly. “Do you know this man?” asked Templeman, pointing to Hughes.
“I am a Belgian diplomat, I have immunity. I will not answer your questions.”
“Could I see your credentials?” asked Templeman, and cursorily noted the proffered piece of card.
“Thank you, sir, that seems in order. However, it would be appreciated if you would explain why, you were here tonight.”
“I…I was waiting for the return of some lost property.”
“Oh, lost property?”
“Yes.”
“And what property would that be sir?”
“My wife lost some gold and diamonds.”
“How very unfortunate.”
“Fortunately, this gentleman, Mr Hughes, found them, and agreed to return them. It is a most public-spirited gesture.”
“If only it was as simple as that M. Depardon. Although you have diplomatic immunity, this gentleman, does not. He is a British subject. We have concerns about how he acquired the items he brought here tonight.”
“But Mr Hughes responded to an advertisement.”
“That may be so sir. However, Mr Hughes may have acquired the items illegally.”
“Stop fooling around inspector! I demand that you return my property! Or the embassy will submit a compliant via the British Foreign Office!”
Templeman paused, he glanced at Hughes and Cosby.
“Just one thing then sir. I assume that you registered the loss of the jewellery at a police station. If you can tell me at which station, we can ask them to confirm the itinerary of lost property.” Depardon said nothing, his eyes narrowed.
“No,” he said, in a quiet but resentful voice.
“May I ask why not sir? These items would appear to be expensive.”
“I was very busy.”
“Then perhaps your head of security at the embassy notified the local police. I assume that you notified him of the loss.”
Depardon’s lips narrowed.
They walked to the Zodiac, Templeman holding the bag; Cosby and Hughes walked a few paces ahead, one of Hughes’ arms held in Cosby’s powerful grip, his shoulder thrust upward, his head careened over to compensate. As Templeman settled into the front seat, he kicked against the coffee flask; he lobbed onto the back of the vehicle, where it rolled toward Hughes.
“Missed me,” said Hughes tersely, as he tugged the handcuffs against his wrists.
“If I had wanted to belt you,” replied Templeman, turning around, “I would have belted you Stinker. Now, do yourself a favour, shut up, sit back, and enjoy the view. It’s the last time for a while that you’ll see this much open sky before you go back to the Scrubbs.”
“I’m a good Samaritan, not a thief.” Templeman turned away.
“OK Micky. Get us to West End Central, I know the duty desk sergeant, I’ll call the Robbery Squad about this lot.”
“OK guv,” replied Cosby as the Zodiac pulled out onto the empty street, the tarmac road surface shiny and encrusted with frost.
“Lost property?” said McCreadie. “That’s a new one! I’m surprised that he didn’t hang a sign out to advertise the caper!”
“Discretion first sir.”
“Short of money, eh?”
“I imagine that his income as a Belgian diplomat did not stretch to the type of life he aspired to in London.”
“Hmm. Well, our friends in the Service were half right about him.”
“Or half wrong sir. There’s quite a gap between fencing stolen goods into Belgium and spying for Russia.”
McCreadie eyed Templeman coldly for a moment, but relented from criticism, as he was aware that on this occasion, he was right.
“Right. Well, our man will have to content himself with the delights of Brussels in the future.”
“Is that where they will send him sir? Brussels?”
“I can hardly imagine the Belgians would pack him off to the Congo! After a few months there wouldn’t be a diamond left in the place!”
“And where would we get those engagement rings and diamond necklaces that we need,” offered Templeman with a heavy note of sarcasm as he looked out of the office window at the drab beckoning city.
“What?” said McCreadie sensing the sarcasm. “Very well. Is there anything else inspector?”
“No sir.”
As Templeman turned away his face broke into a wry smile. He did not envy McCreadie his relationship with the Service. Phillips, the desk officer assigned to their department, was as stuffy as a hundred weight bag of rank New Zealand wool, but he knew that McCreadie would enjoy pointing out how the intelligence about the suspected activities of Depardon had been so off the mark, and that for once, Phillips would have to sit and stare like a man who had swallowed a whole plum. Perhaps it was something that was taught at whichever public school Phillps had attended, that look of resentment and incredulity, that seemed to complement his regimental tie, and Brylcreemed hair. With finishing lessons in how to look aggrieved, who needed to understand classical Greek mythology?
He walked down the corridor to the lift block, even from one hundred feet away Templeman saw the down lift triangular indicator glowing a shade of light cream. He reached into his pocket; he had enough change for a cup of tea, and perhaps one of the currant buns that never survived the turn of morning shift at the Yard, it would be enough for today.
Copyright © David Alexander 2023