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‘I can assure you, Mr Faulkner, it would take a lot more than that to embarrass my mother.’

‘Nevertheless,’ said Booth Watson, ‘there is another matter we need to discuss.’

‘And what might that be, Mr Booth Watson?’

Booth Watson bent down, unfastened his Gladstone bag and extracted a single sheet of paper, which he handed across to Simon.

‘You will be aware that this letter, like the Constable, is a forgery,’ said Booth Watson, ‘but we need you to confirm that is the case.’

Faulkner offered him the same insincere smile, as he tore the proffered cheque in half.

Simon studied the forgery for a second time that morning,but his thoughts were elsewhere. First with Avril Dubois, who would still be alive if it were not for this man, then with Hani Khalil and Prince Ahmed, whose only interest was another five per cent, and finally to a prison Governor who thought he’d poisoned him and got away with it. He glanced at the photo of his father on his desk and decided he would have agreed, on this rare occasion, that like Rosenberg had suggested it was acceptable to lie for your country.

He looked up at the two men seated in front of him. ‘I know you’ll both be pleased to hear,’ said Simon, handing back the letter, ‘that I can confirm this is indeed a copy of the letter that Thomas Jefferson wrote to David Hartley MP in 1787, which has been in the family archives for over two hundred years.’

‘But if you look more carefully, Mr Hartley,’ said Booth Watson, removing his glasses, ‘you will see that Franklin’s name is spelled with a “y” and not an “i”, so perhaps you’d like to reconsider.’

‘No, I wouldn’t, thank you,’ said Simon, ‘because if it isn’t the letter my mother gave to Mr Faulkner, he must still be in possession of the original, unless, of course, he’s destroyed it?’

Neither man responded.

‘And as you are a QC, Mr Booth Watson, I don’t have to remind you, that it is your legal duty to disclose to the court should you become aware that your client was responsible for destroying material that is relevant to a case in which you are acting on his behalf.’

Booth Watson didn’t need to be reminded that Hartley had studied law at university.

‘Name your price,’ said Faulkner, before Booth Watson could respond.

‘Can one put a price on a young woman’s life?’ asked Simon.

‘She was a common prostitute,’ said Faulkner, ‘and what’s more, you know the letter is a fake.’

‘Only three people can be sure of that,’ said Simon, ‘and all three of them are in this room. And I feel sure if you had any other way of proving this was a forgery, you wouldn’t be here.’ He paused for a moment before he rose from his place, picked up the two pieces of the cheque and said, ‘I do hope you enjoy the Constable, Mr Faulkner, even though, like you, it’s a fake.’

Booth Watson rose from his place and turned to leave without shaking hands with Hartley. He didn’t need to be told that the jury had delivered their verdict. Faulkner remained in his seat, his insincere smile turning into a vicious glare as he uttered several obscenities that Simon wouldn’t be repeating to his mother. Although he clenched his fist, he finally stood up and left the room.

When the door closed, Simon sat back down at his desk and once again looked at the photo of his father, who was smiling.

CHAPTER 32

‘THEY DECIDEDWHAT?’SAIDROSS,unable to believe what William had just said.

‘The Crown Prosecution Service consider we have come up with more than enough evidence to convince a jury that Kevin Scott murdered Avril Dubois and we can, therefore, charge him.’

‘However,’ continued William before Ross could interrupt, ‘they have also decided that the twenty-pound notes and the Rolex Daytona watch Scott was wearing when he was arrested, are insufficient proof that Faulkner was involved in the murder.No smoking gun, if I recall the director’s exact words.’

‘But the twenty-pound notes came from the same batch as Faulkner withdrew from his bank, and handed over to Scott when they were both on the London Eye.’

‘The CPS went on to point out that we don’t have any proof they were both on the Eye at the same time.’

‘Booth Watson will be only too happy to remind any jury,’ suggested the Hawk, ‘there are millions of banknotes that change hands every day.’

‘But on the back of the Rolex, in case you’ve forgotten,’ came back Ross, ‘are the wordsLove Christina.’

‘Booth Watson will then point out,’ said William, ‘that there are a lot of Christinas in the world, and you can be sure that defence counsel will come up with a witness who will claim the watch was hers.’

‘If only Christina would be willing …’ began Ross.

‘I agree,’ said William, ‘but Wilbur is convinced that if his wife’s name appeared on the prosecution’s witness list, you’d be condemning her to the same fate as Avril Dubois. And if Faulkner thought Christina’s evidence would guarantee him ending up in prison for the rest of his life,’ added the Hawk, ‘Wilbur could have a point.’