Downstairs in his study, Faulkner leapt out of his makeshift bed the moment the alarm sounded. It didn’t worry him when he heard loud footsteps echoing along the marble corridor that led to his study. He had more than enough time. He walked across to the metal door and tapped the face of a watch that never left his wrist. When the dial lit up he entered 03 43, the first four numbers of the timecode. He had just tapped in 09 88, the month and the year, when he heard a key turning in the door behind him. But how could that be possible? He quickly stepped into the safe just as Ross burst into his study and came charging towards him.
He was only a stride away when Faulkner slammed the massive door shut, breathing a sigh of relief as he heard the heavy steel bolts slide into place.
Ross was about to tap his own watch and enter the code that would open the safe door when he heard footsteps running along the corridor. He decided to wait for the choirboy and the lieutenant to appear before he performed the opening ceremony.
? ? ?
Faulkner was also smiling, but then he assumed that time was on his side. Booth Watson would be arriving later that morning, and if the interlopers hadn’t already left by then, one phone call from his Spanish lawyer and they would quickly be dispatched. And what his pursuers didn’t know was that General Franco had built a tunnel from his underground study through the cliff that led to a tiny cove where his yacht would be waiting for him. This time the captain would take him somewhere that didn’t have an extradition treaty with Britain.
He touched the face of his watch to check the time: 03.45. The code that would open the outer door and allow him to descend to the safety of his other world. This time the year came first, 88, followed by the month, 09, and finally the time, which had just flicked over to 0346. He would have to wait for a moment before he could enter the new code. He waited for the light to go out before he touched the face again so he could begin the whole process once more. He tapped the face of his watch and entered 88, but the light immediately flickered, grew dim, and faded. He touched the face again, but only had time to enter 03 before the light went out again. He tapped the watch more firmly than before, but it refused to light up. He jabbed at it repeatedly, but still no response. He then pulled it off his wrist and shook it violently, but it made no difference. The battery was spent.
? ? ?
William ran, panting, into Faulkner’s study to find Ross staring at the closed metal door. ‘I didn’t get here in time,’ he said.
William cursed as Juan rushed in to join them.
‘My boys have surrounded the building and are rounding up the guards,’ gasped an out of breath Juan. ‘So he can’t hope to get out.’
‘But we can’t get in,’ said William, staring at the metal door.
Ross said nothing, just pulled up the left sleeve of his tracksuit and touched the face of his watch, which immediately lit up.
He checked the time, 03.48, and was about to enter the code when Collins calmly entered the room, dressed in a tailcoat, striped trousers, stiff white collar and grey silk tie.
‘Good morning, gentlemen,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid Mr Sartona has not yet returned from his business trip. If there is anything I can do to assist you, please don’t hesitate to ask.’
Ross swung around, his fist clenched, and advanced towards the butler, but Juan stepped quickly between them, just about managing to keep the two men apart, while Ross hurled a string of expletives at Collins, who just stood there, impassive.
‘Quiet!’ William suddenly shouted. He walked over to the metal door, fell on his knees and pressed an ear against its surface.
Tap.
They strained to hear the faint sound, which was repeated a few seconds later.
Tap, tap . .
‘My God,’ said Collins, the surface veneer finally crumbling. ‘Mr Faulkner’s locked himself inside.’
‘Then for God’s sake tell us how to get him out,’ said Juan, ‘before it’s too late.’
‘I don’t know,’ admitted the butler. ‘He’s the only person with the watch.’
Ross smiled.
Tap, tap, tap …
‘There must be a spare one,’ insisted Juan.
‘No, there isn’t,’ said the butler. ‘The only other person who even knows who made it is Mr Faulkner’s lawyer, Mr Booth Watson, and he’s not expected to arrive until twelve o’clock.’
Tap, tap, tap …
They all stared at the safe.
‘How long can he hope to survive in there?’ William said, almost to himself.