Next in Line (William Warwick, #5)(30)

She’d devoured the last morsel by the time she was back at her desk, where she dropped the front page of last week’s News of the World into a wastepaper basket, before washing her hands. She placed her handbag on the desk, took out the receipt and looked at it for the first time: ￡9.50.

? ? ?

The prisoner was seated in the glass cube waiting for his lawyer long before Booth Watson appeared. It used to be the other way around.

When Booth Watson entered the inner sanctum, he sat down opposite his client. ‘Good morning, Miles,’ he said as if it were a private consultation in his chambers, and not in a glass cage being spied on by a couple of prison guards. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t seen you for some time,’ he continued, placing his Gladstone bag on the floor by his side, ‘but I wanted to wait until I had something worthwhile to report. To that end, I’ve already had meetings with Sir Julian, who continues to represent the Crown in this case, as well as your ex-wife. Remembering that we only have an hour, let’s get Christina out of the way before I move on to my consultation with Sir Julian.’

‘How much is she expecting to get to keep her trap shut?’

‘Thirty million,’ said Booth Watson without batting an eyelid.

‘She must be joking,’ said Miles at the top of his voice, which caused the guards to look more closely.

‘Christina is not known for her sense of humour,’ Booth Watson reminded him. ‘And don’t forget that she was married to you for ten years, so is well aware what your art collection is worth. While she may not know how much you’ve got stashed away in your Swiss bank accounts, just the mention of Switzerland to her friend Beth Warwick will be more than enough for her husband to ask the tax authorities to instigate a full inquiry. Not something you need at the moment.’

Miles was about to respond when Booth Watson raised a hand. ‘However, I’m convinced I can get her to settle for twenty,’ he paused, ‘in cash, explaining that way she would avoid capital gains tax, which has the added advantage of ensuring she can’t risk letting anyone know about any of your other activities.’

‘How much do I have in my safe-deposit boxes at the bank?’

‘Just over twenty-two million,’ said Booth Watson, who had anticipated the question.

‘So that would just about clean me out.’

‘If you were to offer her the apartment in Mayfair as well as the villa in Monte Carlo, you might end up only having to part with ten million in cash.’

‘And there’s nothing to stop me mortgaging both properties up to the hilt and leaving her with the repayments,’ said Miles. ‘Do you think you can pull that off, BW?’

‘It would present somewhat of a challenge,’ admitted Booth Watson, ‘but it’s not impossible.’

‘Then get the agreement signed as quickly as possible.’

‘We’ve agreed to meet at the bank next Friday afternoon, when I’ll be bringing along two large empty suitcases. I have a feeling that when she sees ten million in cash, it will prove very persuasive.’

‘Perhaps the suitcases could be reclaimed before they reach her bank?’ said Miles, allowing his words to hang in the air.

Booth Watson didn’t make any notes while his client explained what, with the help of ex-superintendent Lamont, he expected to happen not long after Christina had left the bank.

‘And if you pull that one off, BW,’ he said, ‘you can keep a million for yourself.’ That wasn’t the figure Booth Watson had in mind. ‘But none of this is going to make a blind bit of difference,’ continued Miles, ‘if you can’t get me out of here to enjoy the proceeds. So tell me, how did your meeting with Sir Julian Warwick go?’

‘I don’t think it could have gone much better. But I’ll leave you to be the judge of that.’

Miles sat back, folded his arms and listened.

‘I reminded Sir Julian that kidnapping is a serious crime, and also pointed out that stealing a painting worth over a million pounds might just whet the press’s appetite, especially if it were to result in his son ending up in the dock. It didn’t take him a great deal of time to decide which was more important: extending your stay in prison or saving his son from the same fate.’

A flicker of a smile appeared on Faulkner’s face.

‘However, he still wanted his pound of flesh.’

‘Without spilling any blood, I hope,’ said Faulkner.

‘A scratch at most,’ promised Booth Watson. ‘That’s assuming you are willing to plead guilty to the charge of escaping while in police custody.’

‘You must be joking.’

‘I’ve never gone in for jokes, Miles, as you well know. However, if you did plead guilty, Sir Julian would recommend to the CPS that you receive a suspended sentence.’

‘Why would they agree to that?’ asked Miles incredulously.

‘The last thing the CPS would want is for the whole unfortunate episode in Spain to be made public. The Met have enough problems of their own at the moment, and if the trial were to collapse, Sir Julian could end up having to defend his son rather than prosecuting you. No, I’m fairly confident they’ll want to keep this case out of court. So, if you were to instruct me to inform the other side that we might agree to their terms, subject to a written agreement’ – he paused – ‘written by me, I will brief Sir Julian accordingly.’