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Now get that thing out of my sight,” he demanded, pointing at the hamper.

It will give us all a little more time to consider what our next move should be, because we have to start thinking like Faulkner if we’re ever going to bring the damn man down. I thought I’d say nothing to Beth until you’d decided what course of action we should take.” “Have you warned your fiancée that the Rubens might be a fake?” William was taken by surprise by the commander’s next question. “But if the painting turns out to be the original, Faulkner will have made a fool of us a second time, and in the most public of arenas.” “Nothing would give me greater pleasure,” said Hawksby. Justice Nourse will remove the word ‘suspended’ from his sentence, and lock him up for the next four years.” “But if the Rubens is a fake,” said Lamont, “why don’t we arrest Faulkner, send him back to the Old Bailey, and Mr. “And that’s not all,” said William, who then told the team about his conversation with Miles Faulkner at the Fitzmolean soon after the unveiling of the Rubens painting, Christ’s Descent from the Cross. “Do you know what makes it worse?” said the commander. When the card was passed around the table the smiles turned to frowns, and the recently acquired gifts were quickly returned to the hamper. His expression revealed nothing, although the unsigned note could not have been clearer. Hawksby ripped the envelope open and extracted a handwritten card. It was addressed to Commander Hawksby QPM, and marked Personal. He was about to sit back down when he spotted a small envelope. William rummaged around in the hamper until he came across a bottle of olive oil from Umbria that he knew Beth would appreciate. “And finally, DC Warwick,” said the commander. Jackie took her time removing some of the packing straw before she discovered a jar of foie gras, a luxury way beyond her pay grade. “Your turn, DC Roycroft,” he added, as he rolled one of the Cuban cigars between his fingers. “And also knows our weaknesses,” said the commander, as he took out a box of Montecristo cigars and placed them on the table in front of him. “Clearly someone appreciates us,” said DCI Lamont, removing a bottle of Scotch from the top of the basket, delighted to find it was Black Label. William stood up, unfastened the two leather straps, and lifted the lid of the huge wicker basket that was packed with what his father would have called “goodies.” “You’d better open it, DC Warwick,” said the Hawk, leaning back in his chair. “Who’s it addressed to?” asked the commander. The four of them sat around the table staring at the hamper.