‘Most,’ Justin said, concentrating on the account books.
‘He’ll need copies of everything,’ William said, wandering around the room, noting the contents of the bookshelves and cabinets.
‘Absolutely.’
William stared out of the window. ‘Christ, it’s a wonderful view from here,’ he said.
‘From every room,’ Justin corrected, concentrating on his papers. ‘Shall we get started?’ He stepped away from the desk, gesturing to the carved chair behind it. William sat as he placed an open, leatherbound account book in front of him. He pointed to the control panel on the desk. ‘You have a hi-tech calculator there if you need it. It’ll give you the costs in any currency, plus exchange rates. This is the master copy.’
William nodded and flicked briskly through the pages of neatly handwritten accounts until he got to the last page and glanced down. Justin was becoming irritated. He knew that William was looking for the final total. ‘If you have to look for it, you can’t afford it,’ he said. ‘The truth is, it’s peanuts compared to what some interior designers would have charged.’
‘Jesus Christ!’ William uttered under his breath. The total was one hundred and twenty-six million dollars. ‘Peanuts?’ He looked up as Justin averted his eyes.
‘I’ll start at the beginning. Go to page one, structural repairs,’ he snapped.
‘Yes,’ William said flatly, adding a curt, ‘I think you had better do just that!’
At last there was some energized response from William, even if it was not necessarily a good one. His depression hung around him, pervaded the island and infuriated Justin. He simply could not understand his lack of energy and enthusiasm. He was like a dead man set in cement. Only the money angle seemed to have given him a spark of life.
Later, a business lunch of crisp salad and chicken breast wrapped in spinach leaves on a bed of saffron rice was brought in to them. William did not want a break, and Justin, under a barrage of questions, didn’t eat a morsel. William demanded to know the cost of every item. By mid-afternoon Justin had to get out. He needed to clear his head. He’d not even left the room for a piss. Neither had William.
No wonder the man was rich, he thought. Nothing went unnoticed — he even enquired about bars of soap.
‘Look, Sir William, we must discuss more than nit-picking costs. There is more at stake here.’ William peered at him quizzically. ‘I suggest we both take a break. I’ll arrange for a drink to be brought up to you at the jacuzzi.’
Reluctantly William acquiesced. He didn’t like jacuzzis and he could have easily continued all day and into the night.
‘I’ll take some of these folders,’ he muttered.
‘Fine. Just don’t get them wet.’ Justin was trying hard to control his temper.
Justin walked to the edge of the pool, kicked off his shorts and dived naked into the cool blue water. William was sitting in the jacuzzi on the higher level, wearing Justin’s baseball cap with a cigar clamped in his teeth. He was checking through the lists of paintings and tapestries that had been shipped in from Sotheby’s and Christie’s showrooms in New York and London. The hot water was pumping and shaking over his rather flaccid thighs and buttocks. He had put on at least two and a half stone since Maynard’s death, partly due to Sylvina’s constant round of dinners. His pot belly hung over his maroon bathing shorts. He watched Justin swim length after length.
After about half an hour William showered and changed, gathered up the folders and returned to the study. He was surprised to see Justin already at work, bent over the computer, with a glass of chilled wine.
‘You mind?’ Justin asked, holding up the bottle, which was already three-quarters empty.
‘Not at all.’ William gestured to the chair beside him. ‘I need you to run these by me. Mexican artefacts? Were they necessary?’
‘No, not at all, but rather nice, don’t you think?’ Justin slumped down into the chair.
‘At this price they should be.’
And so it continued.
At last, by nine that evening, William was satisfied that he had covered the entire expenditure on his island paradise. He closed the last book and reached for a cigar from the specially designed humidor, embossed with his initials in gold. ‘You took some liberties,’ he said quietly.
Justin leaned forward. ‘I’m sorry?’
William pushed back his chair. He puffed at his cigar then spat out a fragment of tobacco. ‘I said, you took liberties. Some of the costs are ridiculously high.’
‘You’ll find it worth it.’ Justin handed William a pen and blank piece of paper. ‘Now, can we discuss the original reason for my rebuilding this place?’
William wrinkled his brow. ‘We did. I thought I’d cleared that up on my arrival.’
Justin smiled. ‘Fine. You’re the one who’s been made to look the arsehole, so it’s your decision. I mean, I’ve seen you publicly humiliated. If I were you I’d want revenge. But I’m not you, obviously, and it’s always been your decision about everything.’
‘Revenge?’ William shifted uneasily, recalling that late-night conversation all those months ago in the South of France. ‘It’s been too long now.’
‘William, everyone has called you a wanker. The press, your family, everyone. Doesn’t that bother you? Even with all your money, you’ll never be free of that. The only thing you can do is pay the bastards back, but you’re too much of a pussy to do it. I’ve set it all up for you, worked my butt off.’
‘You’ll be paid.’
Justin lifted his hands in exasperation. ‘Fine, pay me off like Sylvina and I’ll walk out of your life. I don’t care any more, I just don’t want to waste any more of my time on you.’
William sat down, head in his hands, and fell into the trap. ‘This grand plan you’ve conceived...’
‘I didn’t, you did. It was your idea.’
‘Refresh my memory.’
Justin’s eyes narrowed as he wondered how much to elaborate. He must choose his words carefully.
‘Okay, the original plan was for you to become socially accepted again, which partly worked via Sylvina. You listed the specific names of people who had, to your mind, done the dirty on you. People like—’
‘Baron von Garten,’ William muttered.
‘Exactly. Then everyone on the hit-list would subsequently be invited to join you here on your island, where they would be at your mercy.’
Justin looked for a reaction, but there was none.
‘Once here, they would be lulled into a false sense of security, entertained on such a lavish scale that they would relax... unaware that you had another motive. Payback. You would systematically get every single one of them.’
‘Caught in a sexual scandal,’ William added quietly.
‘Exactly,’ Justin said softly, then got up and touched William’s shoulder. ‘That was what we hatched up. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.’
‘Of course I hadn’t,’ William said hoarsely. ‘I hadn’t forgotten, Justin, but so much has happened, and the Sylvina débâcle turned round to my benefit. Sometimes the press that I despise so much—’
‘Makes you look even more of a buffoon,’ snapped Justin.
There was that word again. William clenched his hands in anger.
‘Go to bed. You think about it tonight. Then if you decide to go with it, we can start things rolling. If not, then I’ll be finished here and I’ll leave, with no hard feelings.’
Justin strolled out. He might have been discussing something as mundane as cushion fabric, not a complex revenge plot.
William felt as if he had been holding his breath too long, and let it out. ‘Oh, my God,’ he whispered. He wondered whether Justin was unbalanced. But it was himself who had sown the seeds of the plan. That night in France he had wanted to make someone pay for what had been done to him. His injuries had still smarted then. But did he still want that? William patted his pockets and removed his wallet. Neatly folded into a small square was the original list he had made out of people whom he believed should pay for what he had been put through. But now that he had just such an opportunity, he found it didn’t make him feel good. Instead it disturbed him. He needed to think hard before he made any decisions.