Page 4 of Traitors Gate

‘Today, for example,’ said Booth Watson, ‘the Lord Chamberlain is being driven from Buckingham Palace to the Tower of London to pick up the Crown Jewels in preparation for tomorrow’s State Opening of Parliament. Warwick and Hogan are part of the back-up team, and tomorrow they will escort the Crown Jewels back to the Tower, a responsibility they carry out once a year.’

‘As you are clearly so well-informed,’ said Miles, ‘I assume Lamont is still on the payroll?’

‘The retired superintendent is still part of my team, and I can assure you he feels the same way about Warwick and Hogan as you do, so will continue to keep me informed on what those two are up to.’

‘Now I’m back, you can tell him to redouble his efforts. It remains a priority for me to see those two humiliated, and it would be a bonus if you could throw in Hawksby.’

‘Now you’ve returned to London, Miles, don’t you think it might be wise to put all that behind you and keep a low profile?’

‘Not a chance. In fact I’ve thought of little else since Warwick had his say in court. Have you forgotten he was responsible for me ending up in jail? I won’t be satisfied until I’ve repaid the compliment and he finds out what it’s like to be deprived of his freedom. I don’t give a damn what it costs – he and those who were responsible for that must be humiliated.’

‘But I would have thought—’

‘Then you can think again, BW, because I look forward to the day when the Lord Chamberlain escorts them both to the Tower and leaves them there.’

Booth Watson stared at his pay cheque and thought again about trying to change his client’s mind. Then he remembered Faulkner’s face as he’d stood in the dock and realized he wouldn’t rest until he’d had his revenge on Warwick, Hogan, and Hawksby. Nothing Booth Watson could say would change that. He satisfied himself instead with sipping a rare Bordeaux he hadn’t enjoyed for some time.

‘Are there any other problems I should be considering?’ Miles asked as a waiter appeared with their main courses.

The ever-reliable accomplice bent down, extracted a copy of yesterday’sNew York Timesfrom his Gladstone bag and handed it to Miles. He waited for the volcano to erupt.

‘Stop playing games, BW, and tell me what I’m meant to be looking for.’

‘Page forty-three,’ said Booth Watson as he tucked into his steak.

Miles flicked through the pages, not stopping until he reached page forty-three, which he studied for some time before saying, ‘I’m none the wiser.’

‘In the property section you’ll find a luxury flat on East 61st Street is up for sale.’

‘I’m well aware my Manhattan pad is on the market,’ said Miles, ‘but what you don’t know is that I’ve recently purchased the penthouse in the same building, so no longer need the ninth-floor flat. So, unless you’re thinking of buying it, BW, stop wasting my time.’ He tossed the paper to one side before squeezing half a lemon over his smoked salmon.

‘I suggest, Miles, that you take a closer look at the advertisement,’ said Booth Watson, well aware he wasn’t wasting his time.

Miles reluctantly picked the paper back up and studied the details of a five-bedroom luxury apartment in Manhattan, overlooking Central Park. Offer price, seven million dollars. After a second look at the accompanying photo, the volcano finally erupted. ‘Who the hell allowed that to happen?’ he said, loud enough for one of the diners on the next table to look around.

‘I’m not your estate agent,’ said Booth Watson calmly, ‘just a humble QC who does his best to protect your backside.’

‘Have that photograph removed immediately,’ said Miles, almost as loudly.

‘I already have,’ said Booth Watson, a smile of satisfaction appearing on his face. ‘I’ve also given instructions that that particular photograph is not to appear in any future sales material.’

Miles continued to stare at a photo of Rubens’Christ’s Descent from the Crossthat was hanging on the wall in the drawing room of his Manhattan apartment, for a million readers to admire.

‘I feel sure I don’t have to remind you, Miles, that the art world is under the illusion that that particular masterpiece is currently gracing the walls of the Fitzmolean Museum and not your New York apartment.’

‘Should anyone ask,’ murmured Miles, leaning across the table, ‘make it clear that mine is a copy.’

‘But if an interested party were by chance to come across the ad and decided to check—’ began Booth Watson as the sommelier appeared by his side to refill his empty glass. Booth Watson waited for him to move on to another table before he continued. ‘I don’t have to remind you, Miles, that you gifted the original to the museum in exchange for a lesser sentence, and should the CPS find out—’

‘That must never be allowed to happen,’ snapped Miles, not touching his wine.

‘It doesn’t help,’ added BW, ‘that the director has recently announced his retirement, and I have it on good authority that Mrs Beth Warwick is the favourite to replace him.’

‘Something else that must never be allowed to happen, because if she ever suspected her Christ was not the Saviour, the first person she’d inform would be her husband.’ He paused before lowering his voice and saying, ‘Is there anything we can do to prevent it?’

‘Your ex-wife is still a member of the board and shouldtherefore be able to influence the outcome. She might just be persuaded …’

‘I wouldn’t trust that woman as far as I could throw her,’ said Miles. ‘Don’t forget she’s a close friend of Mrs Warwick and would be only too happy to double-cross me given the slightest opportunity.’

---