Page 11 of Traitors Gate

Booth Watson couldn’t fault her logic, but had his next line well prepared. ‘Can I assume you and Mrs Warwick are still bosom pals?’

‘As well as business partners,’ Christina reminded him.

‘An association that would end were she to become the next director of the Fitzmolean.’

‘Don’t remind me,’ said Christina a little too quickly.

‘Which, no doubt, would make a considerable dent in your income,’ suggested Booth Watson.

Christina didn’t immediately comment on Booth Watson’s double-edged riposte. ‘What’s going on in that devious mind of yours, BW?’ she finally asked.

‘It might not come as a complete surprise that Miles, like you, wouldn’t be disappointed if Mrs Warwick failed to become the new director of the Fitz.’ He leant back and lit a cigarette, while he waited to find out how she would react. If she raised the subject of the fake Rubens hanging in the Fitzmolean, he accepted it was going to cost Miles a lot of money. But not a word. And he knew from past experience that if Christina had a trump card, she always played it a little too early, so she couldn’t have seen the advertisement in theNew York Times. Thanks to his diligence, the ad had appeared only once, so it looked as if Miles had got away with it.

‘Why would Miles give a damn who gets the job?’ Christina queried.

A question Booth Watson was ready for. ‘My dear Mrs Faulkner,’ he began as he blew a large plume of smoke into the air. ‘No one knows better than you how vindictive Miles can be, and he doesn’t have a short memory.’

A judgement Christina felt unable to disagree with. ‘But it will be the museum’s board who will appoint the new director and I’ll be a lone voice.’

‘Then you’ll need to be very persuasive, won’t you?’

‘But there are eleven other board members besides me,’ she pointed out.

‘You’ll have to play Judas,’ said Booth Watson without any hint of irony.

‘And look where that got him.’

‘All you have to do is convince five of your fellow board members that one of the other candidates is better qualified for the position.’

Christina considered the proposition and all its implications before she said, ‘How much is Miles willing to pay?’

Another question he’d anticipated. ‘Fifty thousand,’ said Booth Watson. ‘But only if you’re successful.’

Christina sat in silence for a little longer before she said, ‘Five thousand in advance,’ she paused, ‘as an act of good faith.’

‘You drive a hard bargain, Mrs Faulkner,’ said Booth Watson, who’d thought she’d ask for ten. He returned to his desk, opened the top drawer and took out five cellophane packets each containing a thousand pounds, before handing them over to his new recruit. He didn’t tell her he’d been instructed to give her fifty thousand up front if she’d mentioned the Rubens that was hanging in Miles’s New York flat. She hadn’t, so he quickly closed the drawer.

• • •

‘Arthur Rainsford.’

‘Ah, yes sir,’ said the hotel receptionist. ‘Your daughter booked a room for you earlier this afternoon. Is Sir Julian Warwick with you?’

‘No, but I expect him to join us within the next hour.’

‘Then I’ll keep a lookout for him,’ she said before handing over a key. ‘You’re in room eleven, sir, on the first floor. Dinner will be served from seven, last orders at nine thirty.’

‘Thank you,’ said Arthur before he made his way up the narrow staircase to the first floor. The last thing on his mind was dinner. Once he’d unpacked, he sat down at a little desk overlooking the back lawn and went through the notes he’d made during his conversation with a director from the Crown Estate office. He was trying to calculate a fair price for the company when there was a knock at the door. He pushed back his chair, walked across the room and opened it to find Beth and Julian standing in the corridor.

‘Enter,’ he said with a sweeping gesture of the hand. He kissed his daughter on the cheek before shaking hands with Sir Julian. ‘Take a seat, because we don’t have a moment to waste if we’re going to be ready in time. First, Beth, were you able to get answers to those questions I suggested over the phone?’

‘Every one of them,’ said Beth as she perched on the corner of the bed. ‘Though it meant having to suffer a second helping of Janet’s “exceptional” fishcakes. I even have the contract the kind and generous gentleman sent to Mrs Lomax for her to consider before he calls back on Monday morning.’ Beth opened her bag, pulled out a thick document and handed it over to her father who turned to the last page and checked the bottom line.

‘And if you consider a million is a fair price, Father,’ continued Beth, ‘Mrs Lomax will be happy to take your advice and sign the agreement.’

‘It’s a derisory offer that she would have fallen for had she not sought your advice,’ came back Arthur’s immediate reply, before passing the contract over to Sir Julian for his legal opinion. ‘It turns out,’ continued Arthur, ‘that Bertie Lomax, Gordon’s father, purchased a 999-year lease on number 12A Jermyn Street in 1942 for the princely sum of ten thousand pounds.’

‘That sounds ridiculously cheap,’ suggested Beth.