Page 34 of An Eye for an Eye

At her country home in Bucklebury, Lady Hartley sat at her writing desk in the corner of the drawing room. She’d spent the morning replying to strangers’ letters, most of which were messages of condolence following her husband’s death. Several mentioned Simon’s plight, with one saying, ‘Your son is a murderer and deserves to be hanged. I hope he rots in hell.’

The last letter she considered was from her bank manager, enclosing a copy of her latest statement. The account was in credit for a few thousand pounds, because her husband never left her short, but a few thousand pounds was not enough to cover the expenses of a funeral and other monthly bills that her husband would normally have dealt with. He had once told her that the eleventh commandment would have been ‘thou shalt not be overdrawn’, and she suspected Moses would have agreed with him. However, neither Moses nor he were on hand now to advise her. She had never discussed these problems with her husband in the past as he had assured her that Simon had it under control. Her husband couldn’t possibly have foreseen that their son would end up in a foreign jail, leaving her to deal with day to day problems until he was released, or—

Her thoughts were interrupted by the phone ringing. She put down the bank manager’s letter and picked up the phone.

‘Good morning, Lady Hartley,’ said a voice she didn’t recognize. ‘My name is Bernard Anscombe, and I’m the British Ambassador in Riyadh.’

‘How kind of you to call, Sir Bernard,’ said Lady Hartley. She had her first question already prepared in case someone from the Foreign Office rang. ‘Have you been able to visit my son?’

‘I managed to see him a couple of days ago,’ the Ambassador replied, ‘and can report that he’s bearing up well.’

‘But he’s been charged with murder,’ she said, trying toremain calm, ‘and I can assure you, Ambassador, Simon wouldn’t harm a fly.’

In the past when he’d had to call mothers whose sons had ended up in prison, Sir Bernard had been only too aware they were guilty of the crime they’d been charged with, and there was little he or anyone else could do to reassure them. However, on this occasion, he didn’t doubt his fellow countryman was innocent. He nevertheless measured his words carefully. ‘I have spoken to the Chief of Police and can assure you we have made our position clear.’

‘The Saudis still hang people for murder,’ the distraught mother reminded him.

‘I feel confident it won’t come to that, Lady Hartley,’ was about as far as protocol allowed the seasoned diplomat to go.

‘Is he even aware his father has died?’ she said, desperation creeping back into her voice.

‘I did tell him,’ said the Ambassador, ‘but he seemed to be more worried about how you are coping. He told me you should read your husband’s will carefully and then take legal advice. Meanwhile, I won’t rest until your son has been released. I’ll be calling your daughter-in-law next, and be assured I will keep you both regularly informed of what’s happening this end.’

‘That’s kind of you, Sir Bernard.’

She was still clinging onto the phone long after the Ambassador had rung off. She thought about his advice, put down the phone and began to search for the card of the QC who’d come to the funeral and had offered to waive his fee because he admired her husband so much. He had come over as far more impressive than her local solicitor. When she finally found the card, she picked up the phone and dialled his number.

‘Mr Booth Watson’s chambers,’ announced a voice on the other end of the line.

‘I need to speak to the head of chambers, please,’ she said.

‘May I ask who’s calling?’

‘Lady Hartley.’

‘I’ll put you straight through.’

•••

‘I have to admit,’ said Trevelyan, after Ross had delivered his report for the second time that morning, ‘you did well, even though you’re not one of us.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ said Ross, ‘for the backhanded compliment.’

Trevelyan ignored the riposte and asked, ‘Where’s Ms Dubois at the present time?’

‘Jenny Prescott is staying with her mother in Putney.’

‘Let’s keep it that way,’ said Trevelyan. ‘Don’t forget the Saudi Defence Minister and his son, Prince Ahmed, will be visiting London next month, and the last thing we need is a diplomatic incident.’

‘Heaven forbid!’ said Ross.

‘As Chief Superintendent Warwick will be in charge of security during the Minister’s visit, perhaps I could suggest you take a well-earned holiday.’

‘How very kind of you, sir,’ said Ross, not reminding him he’d just had a holiday and had no intention of taking another one – not while Prince Ahmed was in the country.

‘You’ll be pleased to hear, Hogan, that I have sent a glowing report to Commander Hawksby on the way you conducted yourself while you were in Riyadh. Mind you, your expenses have raised a few eyebrows.’

‘Didn’t want to risk three billion for the sake of a miserly few dollars, sir,’ said Ross, delivering a well-prepared riposte.