Page 121 of She Saw What He Did

‘No. I like to keep a clear head,’ she smiled.

‘Quite right,’ said Herman.

His eyes strayed to the antique clock on the wall. Time was dragging.

‘Are you alright, Luke?’ she asked. ‘You seem tense.’

Herman laughed.

‘No, I’m fine. I just want everything to go well.’

Wasn’t that the truth, he thought.

Chapter Seventy-Four

Sparrow sat anxiously in his car. His eyes glued to the dashboard clock. Just fifteen minutes. His hand gripped his mobile. At exactly seven o’clock he would phone Jared Miller and tell him where his daughter was. In just under thirteen minutes now. He started the engine. His flight was at ten. He had to get to the airport soon. He didn’t notice the drone hovering two hundred feet above him.

*

Moray Arbour looked at the clock. His heart was racing, and his ulcer was playing up. Thirteen minutes to go. He’d done the right thing in financing the overthrow. Preston was too good to be true. Moray knew Preston had his eye on Arbour’s newspapers. He’d close some of them down, Arbour was sure of that. Bastard politicians, they were always poking their noses in things that didn’t concern them. Herman was alright. That’s the kind of man the country needed. The Russians were keen to be rid of Preston. They’d supplied the means. Arbour had supplied the finance. It had been a good deal all around.

His eyes went again to the clock. Ten minutes to go.

*

Herman was sweating. He could feel Lucinda’s eyes on him. He was checking his watch too much. He gestured to the waiter.

‘Is everything okay in the kitchen?’ he asked.

‘Yes, sir, everything is very good in the kitchen,’ replied the waiter.

Lucinda was watching him. It was perfect. Herman looked seriously at the waiter.

‘Great, thank you,’ he said, glancing casually at his watch. He nodded at the waiter and then looked over at Preston before rising from his chair.

‘Mr Prime Minister,’ he said, struggling to keep his voice even. ‘I’ve just been told there’s an urgent phone call for you. You can take it in the drawing room.’

‘Who is it?’ asked Preston roughly.

‘Apparently they wouldn’t say, just that it was urgent.’

Preston sighed, excused himself, and headed for the drawing room.

*

Abby glanced down at the map.

‘If you don’t know your way about, ask someone,’ snapped one of the butlers, shoving a basket of bread into her hands.

‘Take these through,’ he said.

She walked slowly from the kitchen and towards the drawing room. Abby entered through one door as the Prime Minister entered through another. He looked curiously at her and then at the bread in her hand. He was better looking in real life than he was on the television, Abby found herself thinking.

‘Shouldn’t that be for the dining room?’ he said, looking at her suspiciously.

She placed the bread onto an oak table and slipped her hand into her pocket.

‘Mr Prime Minister,’ she said. ‘I’m so terribly sorry …’

---