Next in Line (William Warwick, #5)(41)

‘Brave girl,’ said Inspector Roach as the ambulance drove off. ‘She would have made a damn fine member of our unit.’

William didn’t comment, but if he’d been carrying a gun at the time he would have shot Khalifah there and then, and it would have taken a lot more than Inspector Roach to restrain him.





CHAPTER 16





BOOTH WATSON RECOVERED FAIRLY QUICKLY from what he tried to convince himself was no more than a temporary set-back, but was now resigned to putting off his trip to Seattle for a few months. While Faulkner was still in prison, with no chance of an early release, he would simply have to bide his time. And time was on his side.

He would need to arrange an early consultation with Miles, at which he would show him the handwritten letter Christina had left in the suitcase. That should ensure Miles’s anger was directed elsewhere, and prevent him from suspecting what his lawyer had been up to in his absence. He would recommend to Miles that an anonymous source should tip off the taxman about Christina’s windfall, thus killing two birds with one stone.

Despite Christina’s sleight of hand, Booth Watson felt all was not lost. There was still twelve million in cash lodged in the bank’s vault, and he was the only person Miles had entrusted with a key to the strongbox. He would just have to make a few more visits to the bank during the coming weeks. He would also carry out Miles’s instructions to the letter, and accept a bid of twenty-six million pounds for his fifty-one per cent holding in Marcel and Neffe, which he would then deposit in his client account for safekeeping, where it would remain until sentence had been pronounced, when the money would be transferred to Hong Kong the moment Miles was safely ensconced in Belmarsh – for the next fourteen years.

But that was a mere bagatelle compared with the amount Booth Watson would make when he sold Miles’s art collection, along with the Raphael, the Rembrandt and the Frans Hals he’d be claiming back from the Fitzmolean once their forthcoming exhibition had closed. That wouldn’t please Warwick’s wife, which he considered a bonus.

So, other than having to pay a redundant taxi driver who’d been booked to take him to Heathrow, and the deposit on a jet that never took off, it hadn’t been a complete disaster. He would just have to wait a little longer before he took early retirement. However, there was still one mystery he hadn’t yet solved: who was it who had been wearing the chauffeur’s uniform? And then he remembered that whoever it was hadn’t opened the car door for Christina when she left the bank, so it couldn’t have been his day job.

? ? ?

‘Why did Sir Julian Warwick roll over quite so easily?’ said Miles, when he sat down opposite Tulip and a guard handed him a steaming cup of black coffee and a copy of The Times.

‘Because if he hadn’t,’ suggested Tulip, ‘that precious son of his might well have ended up joining us for breakfast, rather than hobnobbing with Princesses.’

Miles scowled. ‘I’m missing something,’ he said as an inmate placed a plate of eggs and bacon in front of him.

‘But BW gave you a copy of the agreement, and you even witnessed Sir Julian’s signature on the original.’

‘On the original,’ repeated Miles, ‘but his signature isn’t on my copy.’

‘You can’t be suggesting that BW would double-cross you? He’s been your lawyer for as long as I’ve known you. In any case, what’s in it for him?’

‘About two hundred million pounds,’ said Miles as his coffee went cold. ‘I suspect even you’d double-cross me for that amount, especially if you knew I was safely locked up in jail.’

Tulip was silent for some time before he said, ‘But just think about how much he would have to lose when you found out.’

‘Just think about how much he’d have to gain if I didn’t,’ said Miles.

‘But how could you ever be sure while you’re banged up in here?’

‘Perhaps the time’s come for me to take out an insurance policy with ex-superintendent Lamont as the beneficiary.’

‘But he’s a man you’ve never trusted,’ said Tulip. ‘And in any case, he’s probably already working for BW.’

‘Then we’ll have to double his salary and make it clear exactly what would happen to him if he decides to double-cross me.’

Miles pushed his untouched breakfast to one side and glanced at a photograph of Mansour Khalifah on the front page of The Times.

‘Now there’s a man I would happily kill,’ said Tulip, pointing to the photograph.

‘It might be in our best interests to keep him alive,’ said Miles as a guard poured him a second cup of coffee.

‘Why, boss? What would be in it for us?’

‘Khalifah will have information that the police, not to mention the Foreign Office, would be delighted to learn about. Information that might persuade a judge to knock even more time off my sentence.’

‘But Khalifah would never share that information with infidels like us, boss.’

‘Possibly not. So we need to convert a True Believer to our cause. How many of them are there in Belmarsh?’

‘A dozen? Possibly more. But they all look on Khalifah as a hero, and they wouldn’t consider crossing him.’

‘Do any of them drink or have a drug problem?’