Page 93 of Next in Line

‘The Connaught Hotel. How may I help you?’

‘Please put me through to Mr Lee’s apartment.’

‘May I ask who’s calling?’

‘Booth Watson.’

‘I’ll put you through, Mr Watson.’

BW didn’t bother to correct her as he waited to be connected.

‘Good afternoon, Mr Booth Watson,’ said a familiar voice. ‘I trust you’re well.’

‘Yes, thank you, Mr Lee. And you?’

‘I am indeed,’ said Lee, who considered that having dealt with the English niceties of small talk, he was now entitled to move on. ‘Have you had an opportunity to discuss my offer with your client?’

‘I most certainly have,’ said Booth Watson. ‘To my surprise, Mr Faulkner is willing to accept your offer of one hundred million dollars for his collection, and has asked me to handle all the details.’

‘I’m delighted to hear that, Mr Booth Watson. So how would you like to proceed?’

‘If you tell me where you want the pictures delivered, I’ll organize the packing and insurance, and have them transported to Hong Kong.’

‘Jardine Matheson have a large warehouse facility in Kowloon where the paintings can be stored. Once I’ve inspected them, I’ll transfer the money to your account the following day.’

‘That sounds most satisfactory, Mr Lee. I’ll be back in touch once the paintings have been shipped so we can complete the transaction.’

‘I look forward to seeing you in Hong Kong, Mr Booth Watson. Please pass on my best wishes to your client.’

‘I most certainly will,’ said Booth Watson.

‘What did you make of that?’ asked Mai Ling, after her father had put the phone down.

‘He certainly hasn’t taken advice from his client as he claimed. Faulkner would never part with his collection for a hundred million dollars, even if he was on death row. No, Mr Booth Watson allowed just enough time to pass before he called me back to tell me something he’d already planned even before he’d met me.’

‘Do you think the pictures will ever turn up in Hong Kong?’

‘Not a hope,’ said Mr Lee. ‘In fact, when Mr Booth Watson next visits his storage facility at Gatwick, I have a feeling he’ll find the cupboard is bare.’

‘But if you hadn’t agreed to me visiting Mr Faulkner at Belmarsh, Father, you could have got hold of his entire collection for one hundred million.’

‘If I’m going to make an enemy, my child, I would rather it was Booth Watson than Miles Faulkner.’

•••

Ross walked onto the bridge and joined the captain.

‘Can I borrow your binoculars for a moment, skipper?’ he asked.

‘Be my guest, Inspector.’

Ross turned back and scanned the beach about half a mile away. It didn’t take him long to spot a lone figure lying flat on his stomach, his long-lens camera focused on two swimmers splashing around by the side of the yacht, who appeared blissfully unaware of his presence.

Like a fisherman, the photographer would wait patiently for Diana to return to the yacht and embrace her lover. Heknew it was only a matter of time before he landed the picture he wanted. An embrace would be worth several thousand pounds, a kiss – not on the cheek – twenty-five thousand. How Ross despised him.

‘I’m going to have a word with Mr Chalabi,’ said Ross.

‘Rather you than me,’ said the captain. Ross left the bridge and made his way down to the main deck, where he found Chalabi lying on a lounger, a pair of dark glasses shielding his eyes from the midday sun. An abandoned paperback had fallen by his side while he snoozed.

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