Page 36 of Traitors Gate

‘How did he find out?’ said James, not under his breath.

‘Once again he’s a yard ahead of us, because he’s not only kept the original,’ said Ross, looking up at the picture on the wall, ‘but he’s also got our copy, and there’s nothing we can do about it.’

The three men stood looking at each other, while the realtor, who hadn’t understood a word they were talking about, asked innocently, ‘Are you ready to sign the contract, Mr Buchanan?’

‘Fuck the contract,’ said William, shocking Ross and James who had never heard the choirboy swear. They led their friend back out into the corridor before he did something he might later regret. James shoved him gently into the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor. The doors slowly closed.

• • •

Christina picked up the ringing phone in the penthouse to hear the concierge’s voice.

‘DHL have just arrived to pick up a crate, Mrs Faulkner. What shall I tell them?’

‘Where are the three men who came up to view the ninth-floor apartment?’

‘They left about twenty minutes ago, and I don’t think we’ll be seeing them again.’

Christina continued to stare at the crate that now contained the original Rubens ofChrist’s Descent from the Cross. She hesitated for a moment before saying, ‘Send them up.’

• • •

‘It’s the fact we can’t do anything about it that pisses me off,’ said William as the three of them sat in a yellow cab heading back to JFK.

‘Except kill Faulkner,’ suggested Ross, sounding as if he meant it.

‘Then we’d all end up with life sentences,’ said William.

‘Rather than the twelve years we’re likely to get for attempting to steal a painting worth thirty million pounds,’ suggested James.

‘Twelve?’ repeated William. ‘But I thought you told me six was the maximum possible sentence?’

‘Mea culpa,’ said James. ‘I forgot to mention the difference between theft and grand larceny, and I think you’ll find thirty million qualifies as “grand”.’

‘But Faulkner still has the Rubens and we don’t even have our copy,’ protested Ross.

‘The police don’t know that,’ said William, ‘and one thing’s for sure, Faulkner won’t be enlightening them.’

‘Can it get any worse?’ asked James.

‘Oh yes,’ said William. ‘Faulkner will take his time sendingour copy back to the Fitzmolean but not before Beth has been sacked and I’ve had to resign,’ he added as the cab drew up outside International Departures.

William dashed into the terminal and quickly scanned the departure board. ‘If we can catch the six fifteen,’ he said, ‘we could still be back in London before Beth leaves for the museum.’

‘Wouldn’t it be better to call her now?’ suggested James. ‘So she can prepare herself before having to face the chairman …?’

‘… and offer her resignation,’ said William. ‘No, I’m not going to wake her in the middle of the night and try to explain why I don’t even have the copy of the Rubens, let alone the original. I’d rather do it in person and then at least I can accompany her to the Fitz and warn her all she’s got for her trouble is the hope that Faulkner will eventually return the copy. I just wish there was some way of getting back to London more quickly.’

‘Would all passengers travelling to Heathrow on Concorde please make their way to the departure gate?’

• • •

Christina felt good about how it had all worked out, though if Miles were to discover she had been responsible for exchanging his masterpiece for a worthless copy, she could be looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life.

She joined a small queue at the Concorde ticket desk and, when she reached the front, cancelled her booking, as she no longer had enough cash to pay for the ticket. ‘Can you get me on your six fifteen overnight flight to Heathrow?’ she asked.

The assistant tapped away on her computer. ‘I have one first-class seat still available on that flight, madam.’

‘What about economy?’

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