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  ‘By the time he left the Slade,’ said Lamont, taking over, ‘he’d worked out exactly what role he was going to play in the art world. But he needed to gain some experience before he could branch out on his own. He joined a leading West End gallery as a trainee, where he learnt how much money could be made in the art world, especially if you were unscrupulous. He was sacked after a couple of years in circumstances that we’re not altogether sure about, although we do know that no other gallery would employ him. For some time he disappeared off the scene, until a Salvador Dalí went missing from the Courtauld, long before the Art and Antiques squad had been set up.’

  ‘What makes you think he was involved in that theft?’ asked William.

  ‘We picked him up on a surveillance camera taking a photograph of the painting a month before it was stolen. A mistake he hasn’t made since,’ said Hawksby.

  ‘And he must have made a good enough profit from that deal, among others, because once again he disappeared off our radar until the Rembrandt was stolen from the Fitzmolean some seven years ago. But on that occasion Mr Booth Watson was unable to reach a deal with the insurers, which looks like his only failure to date. Although the manner in which he carried out the theft would have impressed even Thomas Crown.’

  William didn’t interrupt.

  ‘A squad car turned up outside the Fitzmolean on a Saturday afternoon just after the gallery had closed. Two men dressed as policemen entered the museum claiming an alarm had gone off, coshed the doorman and tied him up. Ten minutes later, they walked out of the front door with the Rembrandt tucked under their arms.’

  ‘Where were the security guards?’

  ‘They said they were patrolling the top floor and didn’t report back to the ground floor until half an hour later, at 4.48 p.m.’

  ‘Is 4.48 relevant?’ asked William.

  ‘He’s sharp,’ said Lamont.

  ‘Manchester United were playing Liverpool in the FA Cup that afternoon, and the match was being shown live on BBC1. The final whistle went at 4.46.’

  ‘Where was the television?’ asked William.

  ‘In the staff canteen in the basement,’ said Lamont, ‘which I suspect Faulkner was well aware of, because the thieves arrived just after the whistle blew for the start of the second half, and we later discovered that both guards were Manchester United supporters, which I’ve no doubt Faulkner knew only too well.’

  ‘If the devil’s in the detail, he’s the devil,’ added Hawksby.

  ‘So now you know what we’re up against,’ said DS Roycroft. ‘A highly professional, well-organized criminal, who only has to steal one major painting every few years to live the life of Riley, and can carry out the whole operation in a matter of minutes.’

  ‘I must have missed something,’ said William. ‘Why didn’t Booth Watson make a deal with the insurers and settle the claim soon after Faulkner had stolen the Rembrandt?’

  ‘The Fitzmolean were lamentably under-insured. A problem several leading galleries face at the moment. Their paintings and sculptures have soared in value over the years, and they simply can’t afford to insure them for realistic sums.’

  ‘However,’ chipped in Lamont, ‘the setback will have taught Faulkner one lesson. Don’t steal from galleries that aren’t fully insured or don’t have sufficient resources to offer a reward.’

  ‘Any questions, Warwick?’ said Hawksby.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said William. ‘We now know that the Rembrandt you thought was the original is in fact a copy.’

  ‘What’s your point?’ said Jackie, still smarting from her mistake.

  ‘Someone must have painted that copy.’

  ‘Faulkner perhaps?’ suggested Lamont. ‘After all, he began life as an art student.’

  ‘Not if the Slade’s opinion of his talent is to be believed. But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t know an artist who was capable of doing the job. They might well have been contemporaries at the Slade.’

  ‘If that’s the case,’ said Lamont, ‘you’re the obvious man to find out who that person is.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Commander Hawksby, checking his watch. ‘Do you have any more questions, DC Warwick?’

  ‘Just one, sir. How did you get hold of the copy?’

  ‘We were able to convince a local magistrate that we had reason to believe Faulkner might be in possession of an important work of art that had been stolen from the Fitzmolean. He signed a search warrant, and we raided Faulkner’s home later that night. Until you appeared, we thought we’d hit the jackpot.’

  ‘Did you get a chance to study the rest of his collection while you were in his home?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Lamont, ‘and not one of them was on our list of missing pictures, and he was also able to produce receipts for all his other paintings.’

  ‘So he reinvests his ill-gotten gains in artwork, which makes me even more convinced he won’t have destroyed the Rembrandt.’

  ‘Don’t bet your pensions on it,’ said Hawksby as he closed his file. ‘That brings us up to date, and I don’t need to remind you that this is not the only case we are currently investigating. So don’t neglect the others gathering dust on your desks. I’m finding it difficult enough to justify any further expense to the commissioner, and a few convictions, however minor, would assist our cause. This government seems to be more interested in the numbers game than in catching real criminals. So let’s get back to work.’

  Everyone around the table gathered up their files and headed for the door. But before William could leave the room, Hawksby said, ‘I’d like a word, Warwick.’

  The commander waited until the door had been closed before he spoke again.

  ‘William, I know you’re bright, your colleagues also know you’re bright, so you don’t have to continually remind them you turned what they had thought was a triumph into a disaster. If you want to end up in this chair one day, don’t spend any more time pissing off the people you’ll be working with. I suggest you occasionally seek advice, and don’t just dispense it. Perhaps you should spend a little more time in the snooker room, as it didn’t seem to do you any harm in Lambeth.’

  William recalled his father’s words. Not a man to be underestimated.

  Quietly he left the room, his head bowed. He thought about the commander’s words as he walked slowly down the corridor. He hadn’t yet visited the snooker room at Scotland Yard. When he returned to the office he shared with his colleagues, he found two case files had been dumped on his desk. He was halfway through one labelled ‘Churchill’, when DS Roycroft appeared by his side.

  ‘Which one do you think I should start on, sarge?’ he asked her.

  ‘Remind me,’ said Jackie.

  ‘Winston Churchill, or moon dust?’

  ‘Moon dust should be pretty easy to deal with. The professor is clearly not a criminal, and frankly, Mr Underwood, the under-secretary at the American Embassy, is overreacting. But we don’t want a diplomatic incident, so make sure you tread carefully.’

  ‘And Churchill?’

  ‘Churchill will be more of a challenge, but as the Hawk reminded us, nowadays it’s all about numbers, so make sure you apprehend the culprit and charge him, even though I suspect he’ll only get a six-month suspended sentence. At least it will be one more for the record. More importantly, I’m sure you haven’t forgotten that you’re single-handedly going to find the Rembrandt forger in the hope he’ll lead us to Faulkner. One piece of advice, Bill,’ she said pointedly. ‘Don’t even think about going home before the light under the Hawk’s door has been switched off.’

  ‘Thanks for the advice,’ said William, as he reopened the moon dust file. After reading all the details of the case, he had to agree with Jackie that the professor may have been naive, even culpable, but he certainly wasn’t a criminal.

  When Big Ben struck six times, William decided it was too late to phone the under-secretary at the American Embassy, as Mr Underwood wouldn’t have to wait until the light in the Hawk’s office had