Free 48 Hours - A City of London Thriller by J Jackson Bentley Page B

rang again.
Before the caller was put through, Boniface put the call on
conference and began recording it. He held his finger to his lips
as an instruction to us to keep quiet.
    “ Inspector Boniface speaking. How can I help you?”
    “ Hello, my name is Asif Al Maheel. I am the manager of the
Regents Park Branch of the Sharia Islamic Bank of Arabia. You have
been leaving messages for me.”
    “ Thanks for calling back, Mr Al Maheel. First of all, let me
apologise for interrupting your weekend. I wouldn’t have done so if
this was not an urgent matter. If it is at all possible I need you
to go to the bank and check whose account had two hundred and fifty
thousand pounds paid into it at noon today.”
    “ Oh, I don’t need to go to the bank for that information; I
was expecting a payment of that amount by noon today from a Mr Josh
Hammond. It arrived on time and I called my customer to inform him
so. But I am afraid I cannot disclose his details without a very
good reason, or maybe a warrant. I would have to speak to our legal
department on Sunday.”
    “ Mr Al Maheel, we don’t have time to wait until Sunday, I’m
afraid. We are hot on the trail of a double murderer, and your
customer may be in danger.”
    There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment.
“Inspector, please, I hope you are being honest with me. In good
faith I will give you his name, but on the condition you do not
involve the bank.”
    “ I can assure you, we just want to speak to your customer. We
are happy that the bank is not involved.”
    The speakerphone chirped again.
    “ My customer, and my friend, is the owner of Nour Jewellery
Design of Hatton Garden.”
    “ Will he be at his premises today? I believe it is the
Sabbath?”
    “ Oh, yes. Abasi is not the good Muslim that he might be.
Please call me if you have any problems. I am at your service,
Inspector. Goodbye.”
    ***
    As we waited on the pavement for a car to pick us up, Dee took
me to one side. Her hazel eyes were bright with intent. Her face
was perfect. Dee was probably in her early thirties. Her hair
always shone. She had a pert nose and a generous mouth beneath it.
Her make-up was generally understated, but great cheekbones made
cosmetics redundant. I had never really met a woman like her
before. No more than five feet eight inches tall, she looked
elegant and well proportioned, but I had been assured that in a
fight she could take out men twice her size.
    “ Josh, theoretically my assignment is over but I want you to
know that I’m going nowhere until I think you’re safe. Are you
comfortable with that?” I nodded dumbly. I could have kissed her,
but then again I had felt like kissing her since we’d
met.
    An unmarked car pulled up and Boniface slid in beside the
driver, leaving Dee and I to take the back seat. As soon as the
doors were closed we moved off at speed towards the Barbican. The
driver could easily have been a cabbie; he knew all the shortcuts.
We drove down Long Lane before cutting up onto Charterhouse,
avoiding the one way system. A minute later we were skirting around
St Etheldreda’s Church and onto Hatton Garden. About half way up on
the right hand side we found ‘Nour Jewellery Design’.
    We left the car and walked towards the shop. Unlike every
other shop in Hatton Garden, which is famous throughout the world
for its wall to wall jewellery stores, Nour had no jewellery on
display, just large decals showing the most lavish pieces I have
ever seen. The writing on the windows made it clear that Nour would
procure the best diamonds and finest gold for you and then fashion
them into unique works of art that you could wear.
    Boniface pressed a button on the wall and held his warrant
card against the glass. The door buzzed and he pushed it open. We
followed him in. A stunning olive skinned girl sat at the desk
facing us.
    “ Can I help you?” she asked. The accent was more East End than
Middle East. Boniface asked for Mr Nour and the girl