Page 67 of An Eye for an Eye

‘Ten thousand pounds at most,’ said Miles.

After recovering from the initial shock, Booth Watson said, ‘So it clearly isn’t a Constable.’

‘School of,’ said Miles. ‘The Christie’s expert is fairly certain it was painted by a Breck LaFave, one of Constable’s more accomplished pupils, but a pupil nonetheless.’

‘I wonder if Lady Hartley was aware of that when she sold you the picture,’ said Booth Watson.

‘A question I’ve asked myself several times, but I still can’t make up my mind.’

‘If she was,’ suggested Booth Watson, ‘she might also have known about the sixth letter, the one that—’

‘You don’t have to remind me,’ said Miles. ‘But even if she did, she’s unlikely to be shouting it from the rooftops.’

‘What makes you say that?’ asked Booth Watson, pen moving briskly across the paper.

‘Because if she knew about the letter, she also knew she had no right to sell the Declaration, but just needed the money quickly.’

‘That doesn’t apply to her son,’ Booth Watson reminded him.

‘But while he’s holed up in a Saudi jail, he’s unlikely to cause me any trouble.’

‘For now, possibly,’ said Booth Watson. ‘However,The Timesare suggesting that the Saudi delegation visit went well and are hinting that once the arms deal has been signed by either side, it won’t be too long before Hartley is released. And if he sees his mother before the Declaration comes up for sale …’

‘I can assure you, BW, that problem is being taken care of. So the sale will go ahead. In fact, I’m off to Newark, New Jersey, this evening,’ said Miles, ‘from where I will bedriven to Princeton University to seek the advice of Dr Saul Rosenberg, the emeritus professor of American history, who’s considered by his fellow academics to be the pre-eminent authority on the constitution.’

‘That won’t come cheap,’ suggested Booth Watson.

‘Wrong again, BW. Retired professors will happily supply you with all the information you require in exchange for a free lunch and a half-decent bottle of burgundy. Mind you, I did tell him I was crossing the earth in the hope he would sign my first edition ofMonticello, his Pulitzer Prize-winning biography of Thomas Jefferson. And after I’ve seen him, I’ll be going on to Christie’s in New York.’

‘And when will you be back?’ asked Booth Watson.

‘Not before a particular story hits the front pages,’ replied Miles. ‘Call me as soon as the news becomes public.’

‘It would help if I knew what I was looking for,’ said Booth Watson.

‘You’ll know when you see it.’

Booth Watson stopped writing. He had no idea what Miles was referring to, but he did know it would be pointless to ask him.

•••

Ross was parked about a hundred yards from Faulkner’s house in Cadogan Square – out of sight, but with a perfect view of his front door. He’d seen Booth Watson come and go, but since then, no one had left the mews house.

Rebecca was seated in a Pret A Manger, toying with a cold coffee while she looked out of the window. She couldn’t see Faulkner’s front door, but she couldn’t miss anyone coming down the street towards her.

Paul was sitting on a motorbike on the corner of Sloane Street, ready to move the moment Faulkner’s driver turned right or left. He could weave in and out of traffic and didn’t need to break the speed limit – useful when cars in London only managed an average of eight miles per hour.

Jackie was sitting behind the wheel of a taxi at the other end of Cadogan Square, theFor Hiresign never alight, as it was part of the Met’s private pool.

William was seated behind his desk back at the Yard, a row of phones and a large map of London spread out in front of him. A winding river stretched from the top corner of the map to the bottom. One of the phones went straight through to the headquarters of the Marine Unit, who had every available boat out on patrol that afternoon, all looking for one man – a needle in a haystack, and this particular haystack was the Thames.

•••

‘Faulkner has just left his house,’ said Paul over the radio. ‘He’s wearing a blue tracksuit and trainers and looks as if he’s put on a few pounds, unless …’

‘He’s getting into the back of his car and they’re heading towards you,’ said Ross. ‘Stay out of sight, Rebecca, because he’s about to pass you.’

Rebecca turned her back on him as the Rolls swept by.