Beautiful Death (36 page)

29.

‘Do you want me to have it turned off?’ Angela asked. ‘Although she’s going to be all right, sir, I’m sure she’ll pull through.’

‘That clinic,’ Jack replied, nodding at the television, which had since cut to an ad for face moisturiser, ‘is is where we now believe the deaths of all the surgeon’s victims occurred.’

Angela blinked. ‘I know, sir. But obviously much of its work is above board.’

‘All of it, I imagine,’ he corrected. ‘Just one rogue man working outside the knowledge of its directors and most of his colleagues, I suspect.’ He ran a hand through his hair shakily. ‘Lily was taken there.’

Angela looked lost for words.

He noticed. ‘I’m sorry, Angela.’ She shook her head as if to reassure him that there was no need for apology. ‘But looking at this show all bright and bubbly … it just makes me feel ill to know what was truly going on behind closed doors at Elysium.’

Angela glanced at the screen as it returned to the
show. Stoney was standing next to Chan. ‘I’m here with everyone’s favourite cosmetic surgeon, Professor James Chan and —’

‘Now if you’d told me he was the killer, I could believe you,’ she commented. ‘Does he know how to smile?’

Jack nodded. ‘That was my mistake too. You see, we all do it. We make judgements about people on how they look, or how they carry themselves. You’ve got him down for a tosser, right?’ She nodded. ‘He’s a good man. He’s a brilliant man, too, and what he’s doing on this show is beyond me. I’m half inclined to believe he agreed to it just to have stopped Charles Maartens being the front for the clinic.’

He watched her rub her arm absently. ‘I haven’t even asked you about your shoulder. That was a pretty heroic leap you made.’

She laughed. ‘The lengths I’ll go to in order to impress my boss. I’m just glad I was in flat heels!’

‘Consider me impressed. How bad is it?’

‘I’ve had worse, sir. Nothing that a bag of frozen peas won’t solve when I get home.’

Jack nodded, grateful for her stoicism. He dug out his phone and dialled Geoff. ‘Hi,’ he said when it was answered. ‘Any news?’

‘He got away.’

Jack bit his lip. ‘I’m still waiting to hear about Kate … did Sarah tell you everything?’

‘Yes, all that she knew, but we’ve all been waiting for this call.’

‘Sorry, I’m as lost for information as I was two hours ago when I called in. Did you see him?’

‘I saw a man dressed in a black tracksuit and beanie running away from me. I can’t confirm it was Maartens.’ Geoff sounded gutted. ‘Anyway, local
police have woken Maartens at his girlfriend’s place and he’s apparently furious.’

‘I’ll bet he is. What have we got?’

‘Nothing at the moment. The girlfriend says he’s been there all night. Neighbours confirm his car has been parked outside her apartment all evening.’

‘Damn!’

‘Yeah, we need Kate to wake up and point her finger at him. Until then I can’t make a move. You’ve heard about Katz and the interpreter?’

‘Yes, Sarah told me. Our man’s obviously been cleaning up his mess. I’ve told Sarah to get Claudia and her child into protective custody. He might include his prostitute in the clean-up.’

‘We’re getting a warrant to search his house, her house and —’

‘Wait, Geoff. You said he was at the clinic all day, right?’

‘Right.’

‘How many cars does he own?’

‘I don’t know. He says his car’s a blue BMW 7-series sedan — the one parked in Battersea.’

‘Well we need to go back to our witnesses to ask them what time they first recall seeing it parked there today. Logic suggests that if he’s as innocent as he claims, then he drove his car to the clinic from his place in Hadley Wood this morning and after leaving work around 4 p.m. drove it back to his girlfriend’s apartment. Leaving at that time from Hertford the earliest he could get back into central London — Battersea no less — would be 6 p.m.’

Jack could almost hear Geoff thinking this through.

‘You’re absolutely right. I’ll get onto this. Someone’s lying.’

‘And Geoff — he had to have help. Whatever alibi his lover is giving him is irrelevant. Somewhere in that clinic are some rotten apples. There’s no way that anyone could perform surgery of that complexity without help. He’d need an anaesthetist, for starters. Remember, he’s got two patients — the donor and the recipient — both under anaesthetic and then all the palaver associated with keeping the recipient in care until they can be ferried off to recuperate at leisure. Who knows where Lily’s face is now, or who enjoys it,’ Jack concluded sombrely.

‘You have to stop that, Jack. It won’t do you any good.’

‘I know.’

‘Focus on Kate, now. Let’s get her out of the woods.’

‘No pun intended?’

Geoff gave a mirthless laugh. ‘On this rare occasion … no pun intended.’

Jack strolled to the opposite end of the room from Angela so she couldn’t overhear him. ‘You like her?’ he asked Geoff.

‘I do. Is that a problem?’

‘No, why would it be?’

He could picture Geoff‘s awkward expression. ‘Oh, you know, the way she feels about you, I suppose. Have
you
got that all resolved?’

‘I don’t need to resolve anything. Kate’s had some issues but I think we’ve sorted that and I think you’ll also find it has a lot to do with her own love life being a bit rocky. She needs someone to be really good to her, to love her.’

He heard Geoff sigh. ‘I think she rather always hoped that would be you.’

It was Jack’s turn to feel awkward. ‘Yes, maybe she did.’ He wanted to be honest with Geoff. ‘But I don’t feel that way about Kate. I never have.’

‘Never?’

‘Never. Her timing’s always been off.’ Jack didn’t want to remember the time Kate had declared her feelings for him, especially as it prompted still hurtful memories of Operation Danube.

‘You going to be okay for tomorrow?’ It was as if Geoff could read his thoughts.

‘Only if Kate pulls through. I can’t think beyond —’

‘I know. Neither of us should.’ There was nothing more to say and Jack was glad Geoff sensed it. ‘Okay, call me. I really want to be there with you but we’re all waiting to pounce here once the warrants are granted.’

‘Stay on it. What about Sharpe?’

‘He knows everything.’

‘That’s bad.’

‘Not as bad as if he had to find it out the hard way.’

‘How is he?’

‘Sighs a lot, doesn’t he?’

Jack’s expression turned rueful. ‘I give him good cause.’

‘He’s only interested in Kate right now … and pinning down Maartens. So long as she’s okay and Maartens is behind bars I don’t think he’ll be wanting anyone’s arse hung out to dry.’ In the distance, Jack saw a doctor being pointed to where Jack was waiting. ‘Mate, I’ve got to go, looks like news.’

‘Call me back,’ Geoff said urgently. ‘Make it good news.’

Jack nodded and rang off. He fidgeted anxiously
as the doctor approached, and was surprised to see how young he was.

‘DCI Hawksworth?’ Jack nodded. ‘I’m Dr Josh Wright.’ The personable young man spoke with a distinct Australian accent. ‘You can relax a bit mate, it looks as though DI Carter is likely to come through this.’

Jack felt his heart flip as relief flooded his system. He leaned back against the doorway, feeling suddenly light-headed. ‘She’ll be fine, no damage?’

Dr Wright’s uncertain expression told Jack he wasn’t ready to commit to that extent, but he put a hand on Jack’s arm. ‘DI Carter is young and very fit. That has essentially saved her life. And the paramedics got oxygen into her very quickly, moments after she lost consciousness, I’d say, and again that’s a key to a good outcome. Any longer and she may well have sustained permanent damage, but at this stage I suggest we wait a few more hours and then we’ll have a much better picture of her health. But she’s really doing much better than we anticipated.’

Jack nodded, still weak at the knees.

‘Are you all right, DCI Hawksworth?’

Jack looked up, forcing himself to hold it all together. So much had happened in the last twenty-four hours, he could barely believe it. ‘Long day, Dr Wright. A very long day.’

‘I understand. I gather you’re connected with that serial killing in London, right? The Face Thief?’

‘Hopefully he’ll be behind bars by tomorrow.’

‘Congratulations.’

Jack shook his head. ‘It’s come at a very high personal cost, and I might add that without DI Carter’s testimony it will be difficult to get him behind those bars. She’s his nemesis, you could say.’

‘Then we’d better get her well,’ Wright said, and smiled kindly. ‘I’ll get back but I’ll make sure you receive regular updates, okay? I know how hard it is to sit here not knowing. And, with luck, you should be able to see her in a couple of hours.’

Jack glanced at his watch. It was already past eleven. ‘Thank you.’

Jack was finally ushered into a room that held the hyperbaric chamber.

A nurse pointed to a viewing window. ‘You can see DI Carter through there. And you can talk to her via the intercom. We’ve just removed the mask. She’s had two sessions already and we want to give her one more tonight. She’s breathing without the mask now. She’s conscious but may lose a bit of focus now and then.’ She gave him a gentle tap on the back for reassurance. ‘It’s pure oxygen we’re feeding in, so it can make her a bit light-headed. Forgive her if she wanders or says something that makes you blush!’

He found a smile. ‘Thanks.’

Jack walked to the small viewing window on the side of the large cylindrical steel chamber. Kate was lying down, her eyes closed. It was darkish in there. Coffin-like. Jack tapped on the window softly and she opened her eyes and turned her head, probably expecting one of the medical team because he could see she was surprised it was him.

Immediately her composure crumpled and tears began leaking down her cheeks. She reached for the window, her fingertips splayed out near his face. Jack mimicked her gesture and they touched through the acrylic glass.

Hello
, he mouthed.

She smiled through her tears and pressed a button
somewhere. ‘Hello.’ Her voice came through ragged, not helped by the intercom’s crackly sound.

Ah, he’d forgotten about the intercom. He looked for it and pressed the green button. ‘You scared me.’

She wept more, her hand covering her mouth as she shook her head. ‘I’m sorry,’ she sobbed.

‘Don’t be.’

‘I mean I’m sorry about blubbing like this.’

‘Don’t be. If I wasn’t being watched by your nursing team I’d probably be blubbing with you.’

‘I told them you rescued me.’

He shook his head. ‘All thanks to you. That was a close one, Kate.’

‘I can’t remember a lot right now.’

Disappointment knifed through Jack. ‘It doesn’t matter, and it’s probably a good thing. Everyone’s waiting for the call that you’re okay.’ He smiled. ‘Geoff‘s tearing out his beard. Your call actually came through to him.’

She frowned. ‘Call?’

‘Don’t worry about it. Just keep breathing deeply. Do you know your voice is higher than usual? You sound like Minnie Mouse.’

‘Liar!’

He grinned. ‘As I stand here! Sucking helium balloons has nothing on breathing pure oxygen.’

She grinned wearily. ‘Tell me you got Maartens.’

His private disappointment soared into elation. ‘You remember?’ he asked, excited.

‘Nothing could make me forget his hideously sweet, smiling goodbye and his reassurance that the death he’d ordered for me was quick and painless.’

‘He got away from us,’ he admitted, and her face fell, but then he grinned conspiratorially. ‘But now
we can get him. You’re alive and you remember. That’s all I need to get his smug, Armani-clad arse into jail.’

‘Give me a bible, I’ll swear a statement now if I have to,’ Kate replied. She closed her eyes momentarily. ‘Shit, my head aches.’

‘They said it would. You’ve been poisoned and now you’re high on oxygen. You should rest.’

‘Will you come back?’

‘Of course. But I reckon I’ll be queuing behind plenty of others, Geoff first in line.’

She looked back at him sadly. ‘Is that weird for you?’

‘Don’t be daft. Two of my favourite people together?’

‘Well, I don’t know about together but I wouldn’t mind getting to know him better.’

‘You’ll need to improve your cooking, then. Those burned potatoes didn’t impress.’

Bastard
, she mouthed, although he was sure she couldn’t recall what he was referring to. Kate returned her hand to the window near his face.

He looked at his watch. ‘I’m officially off Panther at midnight.’

She frowned. ‘Why?’

‘Anne McEvoy has been arrested. She was found in Greece. I have to fly to Athens, pick her up, start preparing for trial.’

‘Wow,’ she said wearily, unable to load the exclamation with quite the right punch. ‘Are you okay?’

He was surprised she could recall who Anne was, given her situation. Kate seemed to be recovering swiftly. ‘After this day just gone, I can handle anything,’ he admitted.

‘So who’s in charge?’

‘Sharpe’s asked Geoff to step in.’

She pulled a sheepish expression. ‘Bit cosy.’

He nodded, looked around. ‘Seems you’ve finally got your wish to live in the salubrious suburb of Highgate.’ She flipped him the finger and he was delighted to see even her sense of humour was returning. She still looked very weak, though. ‘I’ll see you later today, I hope.’

She nodded.

Jack waved through the glass. ‘Breathe,’ he urged her, and started to move away.

‘Jack?’

He turned back, mild query on his face.

‘Thank you.’

He shook his head, puzzled.

‘For saving my life.’

He felt a fresh wave of melancholy, this time just for Kate. Instinctively he put his fingertips to his lips and kissed them before placing his hand on the window. There was nothing more to say. He smiled and walked away from her.

30.

His girlfriend, Heather, was in the shower when Charles Maartens had arrived at her Battersea apartment, and he couldn’t believe how his luck continued to hold. It had given him sufficient time to change from his tracksuit into working clothes so she was none the wiser about his travelling attire.

She’d emerged from the bathroom in a haze of steam and perfume, wearing little more than a tiny silk shift beneath the satin dressing gown he’d watched her slip over her shoulders.

‘Ah, there you are,’ he’d said, holding out a freshly spritzed gin, a thick slice of lemon clashing invitingly against the chink of ice.

‘Darling!’ she’d oozed. ‘I didn’t know you were coming tonight.’

‘I hope you don’t dress like that for just anyone, then?’ he’d said, arching an eyebrow in a deliberately provocative manner.

She’d laughed. ‘For me alone, in fact.’

‘Come here,’ he’d said, reaching for her and planting a long, deep kiss on her mouth.

‘My, my. Have you missed me?’

‘Desperately, you know that.’

‘I haven’t heard from you in two days,’ she’d pouted.

‘Well, I’ve missed you every minute of them,’ he had lied. ‘In fact, I’ve brought you a present to prove it.’

Heather Preece had spun around. ‘Show me,’ she’d squealed.

‘I will. Why don’t you join me on the balcony?’

‘It’s cold. Are you mad, Charles?’

‘Put something warm on. Come on, it’s worth it, I promise.’

She’d looked at him puzzled, but disappeared momentarily, rejoining him rugged up in a long woollen cardigan and allowing herself to be ushered onto the balcony. They’d ignored the cool night air but had drunk in the glorious view over the Thames and the sparkling lights of London.

He’d kept it simple in the end. ‘Marry me,’ he’d said, pulling the fabulous diamond from his pocket. He carried it with him habitually, and had begun to believe it was his touchstone that brought him good fortune. He hated parting with it, even to just place it in her trembling, eager palm. ‘Darling, I didn’t presume to have it made up. I know you’ll want to choose the setting yourself. Just go and see Edward in Bond Street. Tell him what you want and send me the bill. But you should know it’s a damn near perfect three-carat diamond.’

She’d had the good grace to look stunned. And then, as he’d anticipated, the theatrics had begun: first the scream, then the arms thrown hysterically around
his neck, then the big smacking kiss, then the tears. They’d all arrived on cue in precise order, and he’d smiled benignly through it all.

‘Charles! Yes!’ she’d finally said. ‘Of course I’ll marry you, my darling. It’s all I’ve wanted.’

‘Good, then let’s celebrate. I wish I had French champagne chilling for you, but we can do it properly tomorrow.’ He had raised his gin and tonic and she’d reached for hers and they’d duly clinked glasses before lingering over another kiss.

‘This is too exciting,’ she’d gushed. ‘Mother will go barmy, you know that, don’t you?’

He’d nodded. ‘I do, and I shall be leaving everything to you and your mother to plan. Just tell me when, where and how much. By the way, I’m going to Europe at the end of the week so I’ll be away for a short while, but I hardly think you’ll notice me gone, now that you have your big new project for the summer.’

‘Oh Charles, you make me so happy. Let’s go to bed. Let me thank you properly.’

Curiously, sex had been the last thing on his mind but he had obliged. How could he not? Heather had been at her most daring as well. Perhaps his future in the bedroom with her may not be so boring after all.

At five-thirty the next morning Charles Maartens was rudely awakened by two officers from Battersea Police Station making further enquiries in connection with the deaths of several people in central London. Charles made a further show of indignation, but only to steal time to shoo his bride-to-be back into the bedroom, reminding her of their agreement that she might need to lie for him. But
Heather Preece was having none of being quietened down or pushed into another room; she instead joined the fray, demanding that the head of someone very senior roll for this immense insult. Did they know who her fiancé was?

The police left in due course, having heard Ms Preece confirm that Dr Charles Maartens had spent the night with her; had arrived at her apartment at five the previous evening and that neither of them had left the apartment since then.

‘Can you tell us how you can confirm that time so accurately, please, Ms Preece?’ one of the officers had asked politely.

‘Because when I stepped out of the shower I realised Charles had returned from the clinic earlier than expected. I can recall looking at the clock and seeing it was just on five. And I learned why later. He asked me to marry him, so if you don’t mind we’d like to celebrate our special day in peace and without it being tarnished by Battersea Police, thank you.’

‘Have you checked with the neighbours?’ Charles had tried, impressed by Heather’s aplomb, but not wanting her to embellish the lie much more. ‘Perhaps they can corroborate my fiancée’s information and lay this to rest.’ He was banking on the neighbours — immensely impressed by his achievements and charm — naturally agreeing with whatever he and Heather said. After all, they’d say to themselves, his car was here and why would Dr Maartens be needed by police? People came and went all the time in the apartment block. No one really noticed that much about the comings and goings from other apartments. Confusion would reign … Charles was banking on it.

‘We will, sir, absolutely,’ the officer had said.

‘Anyway, what’s all this about?’ Heather had demanded, petulance and incomprehension creasing her sleepy but still very pretty face.

Charles had leaped in. ‘Don’t fret, darling. There’s been a number of murders in London involving people losing their faces … can you imagine? Naturally, the police want to talk to anyone who has a connection to faces … you know, surgery. I’m very happy to help however I can.’

‘Oh, good grief!’ she’d said, looking dismissively at the two officers. ‘Are you honestly hoping to find some clues here? Dr Maartens is a pre-eminent surgeon in this country … internationally! What’s in your heads to trouble him at this time of the morning with your ridiculous questions? I’ve read about those murders. They were just illegal immigrants, weren’t they?’ she’d finished, a look of disgust on her face.

The senior officer had nodded, showing no outward reaction to her callous comment. ‘Three were, Ms Preece, and one was a British citizen, but all of them were murdered and mutilated, and all will be accorded the same care and diligence by Her Majesty’s Police Force.’

Maartens hadn’t missed the implicit rebuke, and knew these men already disliked Heather. It wasn’t helping him.

‘Gentlemen,’ he’d intervened, ‘you have my complete co-operation. I’ll be at the Royal London Hospital today, but please contact me anytime, day or night, if I can assist. I should warn you that I have a convention to attend starting Thursday.’

‘Whereabouts, sir?’

‘Amsterdam,’ Maartens had lied.

The officer had nodded, said nothing. His
companion had smiled. ‘Thank you for your time this morning, Dr Maartens, Ms Preece.’

‘I’d rather have an apology,’ Heather had replied huffily, stalking away from the men. ‘See them out, Charles. I’m going for a shower.’

Charles had given the two visitors a shrug in apology. ‘Champagne breakfast should cheer her,’ he’d said jokingly as he ushered the police officers out of the apartment, trying not to show his nervousness. He’d realised he would need to leave the country today.

At six-forty, a weary Geoff Benson, together with Cam Brodie and Malik Khan — none of whom had gone home, let alone slept, overnight — arrived at the Battersea apartment armed with warrants and burning with enthusiasm to arrest the socialite surgeon. News from Jack had given them what they needed. Kate had confirmed that her kidnapper — whom they knew from her description to be Schlimey Katz — had acted on the instructions of Dr Charles Maartens. She had even remembered that Katz would likely be found dead as Maartens had told her he was effectively cleaning up behind himself. What no one had wanted to hear was that Kate had remembered another dead girl. She couldn’t recall specifics — not yet — but she was certain Maartens had been preparing a corpse for disposal and that was probably what had saved her life. He had been too busy to bother with her immediately.

Jack assured them that Kate was remembering more as her body was cleaned of the poison and would likely bring all the episode of her attack, kidnapping and attempted murder into full focus
over the next few days as she recovered. Everyone was planning to visit her that evening at the hospital. But first, they wanted Charles Maartens in custody.

They had anticipated arresting him either at his home or Heather Preece’s apartment, and when Battersea confirmed they’d spoken to Maartens, the trio had swarmed to the apartment block. Geoff had just given the signal for them to pour out of the car and make the arrest when Charles Maartens had all but delivered himself to them. They had watched, surprised but ready, as he’d dashed out of the building. His BMW was already sporting a triangular yellow wheel clamp, but he didn’t seem at all interested. He was carrying a small holdall.

‘He’s doing a runner, let’s go!’ Geoff said.

The three of them leaped out of the car and ran at Maartens, who, startled by the sudden movement, propped momentarily, then made to flee.

‘Don’t!’ Geoff warned. ‘There’s a TV camera crew over there,’ he nodded his head in its direction, ‘so best you come quietly … and elegantly, as your status demands, Dr Maartens.’

Maartens looked over at the camera and froze, but quickly regained his composure. ‘I’m going to the hospital. This is ridiculous!’

Geoff looked over at Brodie. ‘Your turn, Cam.’

Brodie nodded. ‘I understand, Dr Maartens, but first we’re arresting you for …’

Geoff tuned out as the doctor’s protestations competed with Cam’s recital of his rights. He could barely stand to look at Maartens for fear of doing him some damage. Kate was going to be safe — that’s all that mattered — and beating her attempted killer to a pulp would bring only fleeting satisfaction.

Like Jack, he had a wise enough head on his shoulders these days to know that the real revenge came in court. Do all the background work to the letter; leave no room for slippery lawyers to get their clients off on overlooked technicalities; and then smile when the judge sends the captive down.

Geoff anticipated life for this peacock. He would get drunk with Jack … and possibly Kate, the day sentencing occurred. But now he had to begin the painstaking task of piecing together every scrap of detail this team could amass. And it was a top team. Jack surrounded himself with good people, especially when Geoff considered that they’d only come together in the last few days. It was a stunning performance, no doubt driven by Jack’s need to get a result before the superintendent could lock him out.

Geoff looked at his watch, still ignoring Maartens’s rantings. It was nearly seven. Jack would be at Heathrow.

Jack hated Heathrow. It was always a nightmare and he defied anyone to pass through its gates — either coming into or going out of the UK — and not feel their anxiety levels rise. But right now he was on his flight, sipping a mineral water and trying not to catch the eye of the attendant who was extremely hospitable. She was lovely, but he wasn’t in the mood to even feign charm.

Not today.

Today as he sat alone, quietly, he was forced to confront his life. Kate was alive and would fully recover. Lily was dead. Both lives had hung in the balance over a matter of hours really.

And now Anne McEvoy had re-entered his life. He had the painful task of returning her to Britain to
face the rigours and tribulations of the criminal justice system. Tomorrow morning he would present her at Marylebone Magistrates Court where she would make her plea and the case would be adjourned to the Old Bailey for trial. Finally, he would escort Anne to Holloway Prison, where she would be held until her trial date. And that was just the beginning of his new role for Operation Danube: from now on he would spearhead the pulling together of all the details required by the prosecution for Anne’s case. He dreaded what lay ahead.

He ran a hand through his hair — he still couldn’t believe how close to losing Kate they’d all come. But he had lost someone. A woman he loved had died ghoulishly. His only comfort — if you could call it that — was that Lily had slept through her death. Anaesthesia eased her journey to her final breath. Jack felt his eyes water as visions of Lily laughing in bed with him erupted. He’d kept them backed away in a corner since the day at the morgue but now he had too much time to think. Too much time to remember. He swallowed the water, crunching on the ice to banish the images of the young woman who had brought him so much joy in such a short time.

And on the fringe of his mind was a new woman. Jane Brooks. Their near-surrender to each other had been unexpected. He was glad they had been interrupted before they had gone too far because he didn’t need the complication of Jane right now. Yet he knew he desperately craved affection; someone to hug through the haze of sorrow that had seeped into his body and now seemed to control his mind.

Jane would be able to explain his melancholy rationally and in a language he understood — but he
needed escape, not explanation, and holding her for that short time had released him from his sorrows momentarily. It was a drug he might take again if she offered it. In fact —

‘Mr Hawksworth?’ A polite voice snapped his thoughts back to the present.

‘Yes?’

It was the bright and breezy attendant again. She smiled broadly; her white teeth perfectly outlined by freshly applied red lipstick. ‘I need you to put your tray table up, sir. We’re on descent into Athens.’

‘Oh, thank you,’ he said, starting to tidy away his odds and ends.

She was busying herself putting an item in the overhead locker. ‘Holiday or business in Athens?’ she asked, stretching above him.

‘All business, I’m afraid,’ he replied, straightening in his seat and adjusting his tie.