Turbulence (Stone Barrington #46)(46)
“May I ask,” Lance said, “how were funds supplied?”
“By wire transfer from a Cyprus bank to our account at our bankers, Coutts & Company, in the Strand.”
“I understand the price paid was 150 million pounds sterling?”
“That is correct. It was the largest transaction my client had ever handled, and his commission was enough to send him into retirement in the South of France.”
Their sole arrived, and it was excellent. When they were done and had finished their wine, Sir John escorted them to his chambers’ conference room, where rolls of plans were stacked. He spread them out in order, and Lance, with Sir John’s permission, photographed most of them with his iPhone.
“In what condition was the house at closing?” Lance asked.
“Quite good condition,” Sir John replied. “The twelfth duke was very good about maintaining his many properties, and he employed a large staff of people in the building trades, so the work was done in-house, so to speak.”
“Was the landing field installation included in the sale?”
“No, but planning permission was, so Owaki had only to build it. I believe its cost was a large percentage of the fifty million pounds he was said to have spent revamping the place.”
“What was the prescribed runway length in the planning application?” Lance asked.
“Five thousand feet,” Sir John replied, “but at the request of Mr. Owaki, the duke made application for a further three thousand feet. The duke was very persuasive in dealing with planning boards.”
“Stone,” Lance said, “what was the largest aircraft you saw when you visited the field?”
“A Gulfstream 650,” Stone replied.
“And do you know what runway length that would require?”
Stone took out his iPhone and googled the aircraft. “At least 5,200 feet—that would be a gross weight, full fuel, and several passengers.”
“Hmm,” Lance said, continuing to leaf through the plans until he seemed satisfied. “Sir John, I am very grateful to you, not just for an excellent lunch, but for the opportunity to see these plans and hear your information.”
“I know I’m not meant to ask why you were interested,” Sir John replied. “So I won’t ask.”
“Sir John is aware of my employment,” Lance said to Stone. “We have a mutual friend in Dame Felicity Devonshire.”
“Quite,” Sir John said. “I had not realized that Stone was also in your government’s employ.”
“He is not, I assure you,” Lance said, “but we regard him as a friend of our service, and from time to time we consult with him on various matters.”
“I see,” Sir John replied, though he clearly did not.
* * *
—
STONE AND LANCE departed the Inns of Court in Lance’s car, which today was an elderly Daimler limousine, one with a glass partition separating driver and passengers, which Lance closed. “Stone, you seem bursting to tell me something: What is it?”
“I think Selwyn Owaki needs to be reevaluated,” Stone said.
“In what respect?”
“In every respect.”
“All right, satisfy my curiosity.”
“Mr. Owaki has far too much money at his disposal to be an arms dealer—even the most successful one.”
“That’s very interesting,” Lance said. “Explain, please.”
“Well, for a start, he lives in a New York skyscraper of offices and apartments, which he is said to own. He has not just a private jet, but a fleet of them. Among them are the most expensive of all private jets, with the possible exception of the Boeing Business Jet, which is a 737 airliner, in drag. The G-650 airplane costs in excess of sixty million dollars, fully equipped, and it was registered only last year. Think about it: What zillionaire could bear the 360-million-dollar cash outlay—in a single year—that he has with the airplane and the house? Who has that much cash?”
“The Saudi king, perhaps,” Lance replied, “or the sultan of Brunei. So where do you think he’s getting the money?”
“We have to ask ourselves what possible use he would have for Kensington House? Who needs to house a hundred or more people for a weekend? I mean, it’s not a commercially feasible business undertaking, is it, the Barristers’ Bash notwithstanding?”
“I should think not,” Lance said, “nor is the airfield.”
“And why does he need eight thousand feet of runway? You could land an Airbus 380, on that, and the 380 is the largest civilian airplane in the world and carries, what, something over eight hundred passengers?” He consulted his iPhone again. “And it has the same takeoff distance as the G-650: 5,200 feet. Why eight thousand? My runway at Windward Hall is seven thousand feet long because it was built during World War II, to accommodate fully loaded bombers, like the B-24 and B-17, which struggled to get off runways.”
“Then I expect he must be thinking of accommodating large military aircraft.”
“Or, he is expecting visitors who insist on a great deal of landing length, for reasons of extra safety and security. I mean, I don’t think the Secret Service would allow Air Force One to land on a 5,200-foot runway, even if it technically could.”