Page 34 of Next in Line

Let’s hope so, thought Booth Watson. ‘Do you have any questions before you sign?’

‘Just one. Can you explain the significance of the non-disclosure clause, and the repercussions should I break it?’

‘Put simply, if at any time in the future you were to mention what took place at your home in Spain last September, the deal would be off and you’d be arrested, returned to prison, have to complete your original sentence, and possibly face new charges. So whatever you do, Miles, don’t say a word to anyone other than me until the judge passes sentence.’ He paused to make sure the threat had sunk in. ‘Anything else?’ he asked, stealing another glance at the clock: 10.51. Still time to kill.

‘I had a word with my parole officer on Monday,’ said Faulkner, ‘and he made no mention of an early release.’

‘He won’t be put in the picture until after you’ve signed the agreement. Once you’ve done that, he’ll simply carry out orders from above.’

‘Where do I sign?’

‘You don’t. That’s just a copy for you to hold on to. I’d advise you to keep it away from prying eyes.’

There was a firm rap on the door, and they turned to see the duty officer standing there. ‘Five minutes, sir.’

‘Mr Harris,’ said Booth Watson, ‘I wonder if I might call upon your services. My client is about to sign an important legal document, and I need someone to witness his signature.’

‘Happy to oblige,’ said Harris.

Booth Watson took three new agreements from his Gladstone bag and placed them on the table in front of him. He then turned to the last page of each one. Faulkner was pleased to see that Sir Julian had already signed all three of them. The duty officer waited for Faulkner to add hissignature, before scribbling his name and occupation on the dotted line below.

Once both of them had signed all three documents, Booth Watson didn’t wait for the ink to dry before he dropped them back into his bag.

‘Thank you, Mr Harris,’ he said to the innocent bystander. Turning back to Faulkner, he added, ‘That completes our business for today.’ Booth Watson picked up his bag then stood aside to allow the guard to accompany his prisoner back to the cells while he left in the opposite direction.

‘Good luck!’ shouted Faulkner as he was led away. Booth Watson turned nervously, unsure what his client was referring to. ‘Be sure to give my love to Christina when you see her this afternoon.’

•••

When Christina was dropped off at the bank later that afternoon, she found Booth Watson already waiting by the entrance. His Gladstone bag had been replaced by two large black empty suitcases.

After a brief salutation, he led her towards the lifts on the other side of the foyer. It was clear he knew exactly where he was going. They didn’t speak to each other during the short journey to the basement. When the lift doors opened, they were greeted with the words, ‘Good morning, Mr Booth Watson. My name is Bradshaw. I’m the bank’s security officer. Please allow me to accompany you to the safe-deposit vault.’

Without another word, he led them along a well-lit corridor to the entrance of the bank’s vault. Bradshaw entered aneight-digit code on a panel in the wall, and waited for a moment before pulling open the vast circular steel door to allow his two customers to enter the private domain. A large wooden table dominated the centre of the room, and as far as Christina could see the walls were lined from floor to ceiling with numbered boxes: a bank’s library.

Bradshaw checked his clipboard before selecting a key from a large ring, knelt down in front of two of the largest boxes in the room, and turned his key in the bank’s lock. Booth Watson then produced his key and opened the customer’s lock. Bradshaw pulled out the two heavy boxes, heaved them up onto the table, and said, ‘I’ll leave you now, sir. Once you’ve completed your business, just press the green button by the door and it will automatically open. I’ll be waiting on the other side.’

Booth Watson waited until Bradshaw had left, and the vast door had been slammed shut behind him, before he lifted the lids of the boxes to reveal row upon row of freshly minted fifty-pound notes neatly sealed in bundles of five thousand pounds. Twenty minutes later they had completed the task of transferring the cash from the strongboxes into the two suitcases.

After double-checking that Christina hadn’t been overpaid, Booth Watson took an envelope from an inside pocket and produced a contract she thought she’d read the day before. Christina signed all three copies of the agreement without a second thought.

Booth Watson pocketed the contracts, but not before he said, ‘You now own the flat in London and the villa in Monte Carlo.’ He made no mention of the substantial mortgages he’d recently obtained on behalf of his client, and were now herresponsibility. ‘However, I must warn you,’ he added, ‘should you fail to honour your side of the bargain, I will not hesitate to inform the tax authorities about your unexpected windfall.’

‘You assured me I wouldn’t have to pay a penny in tax,’ Christina reminded him.

‘And you won’t, just as long as no one else learns about our little arrangement.’ Without another word, Booth Watson pressed the green button on the wall and the door swung slowly open. Once they’d stepped back outside, Bradshaw closed the door behind them and led them back down the corridor towards the lift, Booth Watson pulling one of the heavy suitcases, with Christina following in his wake tugging the other.

When they reached the ground floor, Booth Watson handed the second case to Christina, who dragged both of them slowly towards the entrance. She’d had no idea how heavy ten million pounds would be.

Booth Watson stood aside and watched as a dark blue Mercedes pulled up outside the bank’s entrance. A chauffeur got out, opened the boot and stowed the two suitcases inside before returning to his place behind the wheel. At the same time, Christina opened the rear door of the car and climbed in the back. Once she’d pulled the door shut, the Mercedes drove off and joined the early-evening traffic. The whole process had taken less than a minute, and had clearly been carefully planned, probably even rehearsed. Booth Watson smiled to himself: it wasn’t the only plan that had been well-rehearsed.

He strolled out of the bank as a black Volvo tucked in behind the Mercedes, an ex-superintendent at the wheel. Booth Watson crossed the road, hailed a cab, and headed in the opposite direction.

As the Mercedes came to a halt outside Christina’sapartment in Eaton Square, Lamont pulled into a residents’ parking bay a few yards away on the opposite side of the road. The chauffeur opened the boot, lifted out the two suitcases and accompanied Mrs Faulkner to the front door, which a liveried porter held open for them.

Lamont only had to wait for a few minutes before the chauffeur reappeared and drove off. Job done. Well, not quite.

CHAPTER 14

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