‘And where might that be?’ asked Booth Watson, wondering if he would get an honest reply.
‘I’ve found somewhere that doesn’t have any locals to spy on me, and only the passing seagulls can shit on me,’ was all Miles offered.
‘I’m glad to hear that, because I think it might be wise to leave England for a few weeks before you once again reappear as Captain Neville, and no better time than while Chief Inspector Warwick and his wife are enjoying a holiday in New York.’
‘A holiday that was arranged for them by Christina to make sure they’re both well out of harm’s way when my wife and I get married for the second time.’
‘But I thought Beth Warwick was going to be Christina’s maid of honour?’
‘She was, but that was before Christina discovered why I couldn’t afford to be seen on board the SS Alden.’
‘You have to admit your ex has her uses,’ said Booth Watson, ‘and one of them is to take advantage of the close relationship she’s formed with Mrs Warwick.’
‘Frankly, BW, I would have been better off if Christina had never discovered I was still alive. So please explain to me why I have to marry the damn woman a second time?’
‘Because, in the end, it solves all your problems,’ said Booth Watson. ‘Don’t forget she’s the one person who can keep an eye on Detective Inspector Warwick without him ever becoming suspicious.’
‘But if she were to switch sides?’ said Faulkner.
‘That’s unlikely while you still hold the purse strings.’
Faulkner didn’t look convinced. ‘That wouldn’t be the case if they discovered who Captain Ralph Neville was, and I ended up back in prison.’
‘She’d still have to get past me, when Christina would quickly discover which side I’m on.’
‘But you also don’t have a choice,’ said Miles, ‘because you’d have to explain to the Bar Council why you’ve been representing an escaped criminal for the past couple of years, when you were well aware he was your former client.’
‘All the more reason,’ suggested Booth Watson, ‘to make sure Christina signs a binding agreement that if she were to break she’d have just as much to lose as either of us.’
‘And be sure she signs it before she marries Captain Neville, and certainly before the Warwicks return to Blighty.’
‘Blighty?’ said BW.
‘That’s Captain Neville-speak, old chap,’ said Miles, sounding rather pleased with himself. ‘So when are you seeing Christina?’
‘I have a meeting with her in chambers tomorrow morning, when I intend to take her through the agreement clause by clause, stressing the consequences of her failing to sign it.’
‘Good, because if she ever thought she could get her hands on my art collection simply by telling her friend Beth that Miles Faulkner is still alive and kicking …’
‘You’d end up having breakfast in Pentonville and not the Savoy.’
‘If that were to happen,’ said Miles, ‘I wouldn’t hesitate to kill her.’
‘I’ve already made that painfully clear,’ said Booth Watson as the waiter returned with their breakfast. ‘Though I confess, I haven’t spelt it out quite that explicitly in the final agreement.’
? ? ?
‘The full English breakfast, madam?’
‘Certainly not, Franco,’ said Beth, looking up at the name badge on his jacket. ‘We’ll both have cornflakes with melon and a slice of brown toast.’
‘We can offer three types of melon, madam: cantaloupe, honeydew or water.’
‘Water, thank you,’ said William.
‘A wise choice,’ said Beth. ‘I read somewhere that the average person puts on a pound a day during a sea voyage.’
‘Then let’s be thankful,’ said William, ‘that we’re going to New York and not Sydney.’
‘I’d be quite happy to go to Sydney on this floating palace,’ admitted Beth as she glanced around the room. ‘Have you noticed the little touches they’ve done so exquisitely? Fresh sheets, tablecloths and napkins every day. And when you return to your cabin, the bed has already been made with yesterday’s clothes hung up and tidied away. I also love the way our laundry is returned each evening in those little wicker baskets. They must have dozens of people slaving away to make it all run so smoothly.’
‘Eight hundred and thirty Filipinos are hidden below, madam,’ chuckled their waiter, ‘who serve our one thousand two hundred guests. However, nowadays we have an engine room, so the galley slaves no longer have to row.’