CHAPTER SEVEN
HEATHROW AIRPORT
Johnson arrived in a divisional CID car spot on six o’clock the next morning. The driver, George Cracknell, was a young DC who Don had worked with previously and with whom he got on well.
“Good morning, Don,” said Johnson. “How did it go with Rosemary?”
“You can never tell with women,” grinned Don. “Both she and her mum were surprisingly good about it, I had no grief at all. Rosemary understood how important this trip was. She’s decided to have lunch at some village pub with one of her new friends from work, instead of seeing her folks. It’s something she’s been meaning to do for a while, so there was no drama.”
“Good to hear it. Right then, if it’s okay with you two, I’ll sit in the back and go through some paperwork while you guys sit up front and have
