Phil Harris
William Warwick
Bruce Lamont
Beth Warwick
Booth Watson
Ross Hogan
Tulip
James Buchanan
Collins
Christina Faulkner
Miles knew he couldn’t make the next move unless Phil Harris was still on board, and they hadn’t exactly parted on good terms. However, he hadn’t been left with a lot of choice, because he couldn’t hope to pull off such an audacious coup unless Harris was sitting in the front seat of the Lord Chamberlain’s car when the exchange took place.
He opened the bottom drawer of his desk and delved through some papers until he came across a single sheet of Buckingham Palace stationery with nothing more than a mobile telephone number neatly written on it that he hadn’t thought he would be calling a second time.
Miles picked up the phone and dialled the number slowly. It was answered on the third ring.
‘Good morning, Mr Faulkner,’ said a voice that didn’t introduce himself.
‘Good morning,’ responded Miles, who wasted no time. ‘Is the proposition you put to me when we first met a few weeks ago still on the table?’
‘If I recall your exact words,’ countered Harris, ‘you considered the whole idea a ridiculous waste of your time and money?’
‘I’ve had time to think it over,’ said Miles, having anticipated the rebuke. ‘Perhaps I was a little hasty.’
‘I’ve also had time to think it over and the entry fee has changed.’
‘If you’re hoping to get more than a million,’ snapped Miles, ‘you can forget it.’