reception area and heading for the restaurant, his eyes scouring the room for any likely looking media types. He wouldn't mind betting he was being filmed or that Corinna Denton had a Dictaphone stashed in her handbag. He had a deep mistrust of journalists and it wouldn't surprise him if his voice, and Cantelli's, rang out on the programme when it was aired. Something along the lines of: Perry Jackson continued diving despite the threats to his life. Well, bollocks to them, he thought, scanning the restaurant. No more than half a dozen tables were occupied and none of them with journos unless they had suddenly got a hell of a lot older.
There was only one table with two men sitting together. He didn't need to be a detective inspector to work out they must be Jackson and Farnsworth. They seemed to be arguing. Their heads were bent low over the table, their expressions serious. One of them definitely looked out of sorts. A deep frown showing on his receding hairline and a faint flush on his swarthy skin.
They both looked up as Horton drew level.
The man with the frown paused mid-sentence. 'Yes?' he snapped.
'Mr Jackson?'
'What is it? Can't you see I'm having breakfast?'
Corinna Denton, who had scurried up behind him, hastily made the introductions.
Jackson's frown didn't automatically vanish, but it rested on Corinna for a moment, before he forced his round features into an expression he obviously considered to be welcoming.
If that was welcoming, Horton thought he'd rather meet Dracula on a cold dark night in a cemetery.
Horton pulled up a chair. His first impressions of Jackson as a pompous prick were confirmed when the man said, 'I really don't know what you are doing here, Inspector. It's not at my behest.'
Who the hell used words like that these days? Prime Minister John Major had come close, but then even he was history.
Jackson was stockily built, with dark hair and hot, angry brown eyes that had a way of looking both through you and into you. Horton guessed he was in his early forties. He was the complete opposite of the fair man sitting across the table from him, who Corinna had introduced as Nicholas Farnsworth.
Farnsworth's expression assumed one of concern. 'Corinna is worried, Perry, and so am I. We have to take these calls seriously. Coffee, Inspector?'
'Thanks.' He might as well get something from this farce. He was even more convinced now that it was one after seeing the fake expression of concern on Farnsworth's face.
Catching the waiter's eye, Farnsworth commanded another cup and more coffee with an ease that Horton both resented and secretly admired. He had those rugged good looks combined with sophistication that made Horton instantly think of James Bond. Though the character rather than any of the actors who had played Bond over the years. He would have said that Farnsworth was a little younger than Jackson, but he could have been mistaken. He was taller with a leaner, more athletic frame. Horton wondered if Jackson was Farnsworth's plain man against the handsome and if he'd been cast because of it.
Horton addressed himself to Perry Jackson. 'Tell us about these calls, sir.' He thought that now that he was here, he might as well go through the motions.
Cantelli pulled his notebook from his jacket pocket and removed the small stubby pen from behind his ear while Horton shrugged off his sailing jacket.
'It's just some prank.' Jackson dismissed it with a wave of his hand. 'I told Corinna not to bother you. I hate fuss.'
'When did you receive the first call?' Horton ignored his protest.
Jackson frowned, and then obviously seeing he wasn't going to get rid of Horton easily, resigned himself to answering.
'Six p.m. yesterday. We'd only just checked into the hotel. The caller said, "Watch your back."'
That suggested to Horton that the mystery caller, if there had been one, had either seen them arrive or knew what time they had been scheduled to check in.
Cantelli said, 'Nothing else?'
Jackson swivelled his gaze. 'No. I said, "Hello, who is this?" and the line went dead. I hung up and didn't think anything of it. Then last night after dinner, I returned to my room and the phone rang. It was the same caller. This time he said, "You've been warned."'
'It was a man then?' Horton said.
Jackson looked surprised, as if Horton should have known that. 'Yes.'
'What time was this?'
'Midnight.'
'And this morning?'
'Just on eight.'
On the hour again. Horton wondered if that was significant. But if these two