‘BW has not only removed all of Miles’s paintings, but also ordered the butler to put his home in Spain on the market.’
‘And has he?’
‘No way. In fact, once he realized that Miles was still alive, and back in prison in England, he’s been desperate to get in touch with him, which is why he ended up calling me.’ She paused. ‘And then who do you think called me in the middle of the night?’
Sir Julian didn’t respond, well aware that Mrs Faulkner couldn’t wait to tell him.
‘None other than the yacht’s captain.’ Christina didn’t give a reason, knowing he wouldn’t be able to resist asking...
‘And what did he have to say for himself?’ enquired Sir Julian, finally giving up.
‘They are on their way back to England, Christchurch to be precise, and anticipate docking imminently.’
‘Once again I’m curious to know why he would call you, of all people?’
‘I’m the lesser of two evils,’ declared Christina. ‘In fact, Captain Redmayne distrusts Booth Watson so much I think that, if he was given half a chance, he’d throw him overboard.’
That would solve all our problems, thought Sir Julian, but kept his counsel.
‘So if you were able to contact the harbourmaster at Christchurch and find out when the yacht’s due to dock,’ suggested Christina, ‘we could be standing on the quayside waiting to greet the eminent QC, leaving him little choice but to return my half of the paintings, as agreed in my divorce settlement — which you drafted.’
It always fascinated Sir Julian that Miles and Christina were two of the same kind, and he wasn’t even sure which one of them was the more devious. However, he had to admit that sinking Booth Watson and Miles Faulkner at the same time was tempting to say the least.
‘I think that might be possible, Mrs Faulkner,’ said Sir Julian, still keeping her at arm’s length.
‘If you could let me know when the yacht has entered territorial waters, the captain assured me that would give us at least a couple of hours to make sure we can get there in time to give him a right royal welcome.’
It always amused Sir Julian that Mrs Faulkner assumed he would be available at the drop of a hat (her hat), but he had to admit she was far more interesting than the tax avoidance case he was currently prosecuting in the high court, which his daughter Grace was more than capable of handling. Although he would never admit it, he couldn’t wait to find out how Booth Watson intended to explain to Faulkner — who had probably been trying to get in touch with him for the past ten days — why he had brought his pictures back to England and put his house in Spain on the market without consulting him.
However, Sir Julian was well aware he would have to be prepared for another surprise, as his old rival Booth Watson was every bit as cunning as Christina, and would happily play one against the other if it suited his cause.
‘I’ll be in touch,’ he said, before putting down the phone.
Chapter 4
William picked up the phone but didn’t turn on the light as the digital clock on his bedside table turned from 5:17 to 5:18. He knew it could only be one person on the other end of the line.
‘The harbourmaster has just called,’ said a wide-awake voice. ‘The yacht has been sighted, and he’s predicting an ETA of around nine o’clock.’
William leapt out of bed, hit a chair, fell on the floor and woke Beth. Not a good start to the day.
The second call the harbourmaster made that morning was to Sir Julian Warwick, who turned on the bedside light before picking up the phone. He was already awake. He thanked the harbourmaster, put the phone down, threw on a dressing gown, and retreated to his study. He looked up a number, and it gave him considerable pleasure to dial it. The phone rang for some time before it was eventually answered.
‘Who the hell is this?’ a voice demanded.
‘Sir Julian Warwick,’ he said, without any hint of an apology for waking his client at what might have been for her the middle of the night. He relayed the harbourmaster’s message, and to his surprise she said, ‘My driver will be with you in twenty minutes.’
After putting the phone down, he rushed back upstairs to the bathroom, threw off his dressing gown and pyjamas, jumped into the shower, and swore out loud as the cold jets of water streamed down onto his bald head.
William arrived at Scotland Yard just after six and wasn’t surprised to see Commander Hawksby sitting in the back of a squad car, impatiently tapping his fingers on the front seat. William jumped in beside him. Danny, his driver, set off even before he’d had time to close the door.
It wasn’t twenty minutes but nearer forty by the time Mrs Faulkner’s chauffeur entered the private domain of Lincoln’s Inn Field, and pulled up outside Sir Julian’s flat. Sir Julian, who had been pacing around for the past twenty minutes, quickly joined his client in the back seat.
‘Good morning, Mrs Faulkner,’ he said. Though looking at her attire, he wasn’t altogether sure she’d been to bed the previous night.
‘Good morning, Sir Julian,’ replied Mrs Faulkner as the chauffeur closed the back door and returned to his seat before setting off for Christchurch.
The commander and William were the first to arrive at the port, and immediately checked in with the harbourmaster.
‘The yacht will be docking at berth number fourteen, in about forty minutes,’ he said as the two men shook hands. ‘If you need any assistance, mental or physical, don’t hesitate to ask.’
‘Mr Booth Watson’s only weapon will be his brain,’ responded the commander, ‘which won’t need reloading.’ The Hawk thanked the harbourmaster before returning to his car, and Danny drove slowly along the quayside, coming to a halt at berth fourteen.
The Hawk got out of the car, stared out at the open sea, and raised his binoculars. A few moments later he declared, ‘Got you,’ before passing the binoculars across to William.
William adjusted the focus and began scanning the horizon.
‘It shouldn’t be too long now,’ said the Hawk as a dark blue Mercedes drew up beside them. ‘Why am I not surprised?’ he added when a chauffeur opened the back door to allow Mrs Faulkner and her legal representative to join them.
‘Good morning, Sir Julian,’ said the Hawk as if they had been expected.
‘Good to see you, commander,’ replied Sir Julian. William handed his father the binoculars. After he had settled on the approaching yacht and identified the rotund figure who was staring back at them, he announced, ‘I’ve been looking forward to this moment for some considerable time.’
Captain Redmayne was focusing on the quay, where he saw Commander Hawksby, Chief Inspector Warwick, Christina Faulkner and Sir Julian Warwick all clearly waiting to welcome them with open arms.
‘Looks as if we’re expected,’ said the captain, passing over his binoculars.
Booth Watson just about managed to get to his feet. He had not slept for more than a few hours at a time for the past ten days, continually rushing to the nearest rail, regretting his latest meal.
‘Can we turn back?’ were Booth Watson’s first words once he’d spotted the commander.
‘We could,’ said Captain Redmayne, ‘but I wouldn’t advise it.’
‘Why not?’
‘If you look behind you, you’ll see someone else has already considered that possibility.’ Booth Watson steadied himself and turned around to see they were being followed into port by a border patrol vessel. ‘And before you ask, yes, we are well inside UK territorial waters.’
‘Slow down,’ said Booth Watson. ‘I need time to think.’
‘What makes you think Booth Watson doesn’t realize his client is still alive and back in jail?’ asked William.