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‘The woman in the taxi is following us once again,’ said Collins as he emerged from the underpass.

‘Good,’ said Miles. ‘Then she’ll see me getting onto the plane.’

‘When should I expect you back, sir?’ asked Collins.

‘That’s not being decided by me,’ said Miles. ‘But I’ll let you know.’

Faulkner got out of the car and joined a slipstream of passengers making their way into the airport.

He only stopped to look up at the departure board: Newark New Jersey flashed up on the screen, Gate 23. Estimated take-off time 17.12.

Miles checked his watch. It wasn’t there.

•••

‘Faulkner’s boarding a British Airways plane for Newark New Jersey,’ said Jackie as she watched him disappear up the steps and inside the aircraft.

‘Don’t leave until you’ve seen it take off,’ said William, ‘and even then, double-check the passenger list.’

Jackie’s eyes never left the aircraft.

•••

Miles took his seat in first class, pleased that everything, so far, had gone to plan, even if he would have to buy a new watch. He took a copy of Rosenberg’sMonticelloout of his briefcase, turned to the index and checked the letter D. Sixteen references for him to consider.

He switched on the reading light above his head, settled back and began to turn the pages, confident that by the time they landed in the States, he would know the right questions to ask Professor Rosenberg.

During the flight, his mind occasionally returned to his meeting with the stranger on the London Eye. Miles felt confident he would keep his side of the bargain, and more importantly, that Simon Hartley wouldn’t be around for much longer to cause him any trouble.

He fell asleep with the book in his lap.

•••

When Jackie reported that the plane had taken off with Faulkner on board, William only had one question: why was he flying to Newark and not New York?

He didn’t come up with an answer. However, he knew someone who just might have one. He placed a call through to an old friend in Washington.

CHAPTER 18

MILES WAS AMONG THE FIRSToff the plane. When he emerged in the Arrivals hall, he searched among the names being held up on boards by different drivers, pleased to see FAULKNER was among them.

‘Good morning, sir,’ said his driver when Miles pointed at the card and said, ‘That’s me.’

‘Are you the gentleman I’m taking to Princeton and then on to New York?’

‘That’s right,’ said Miles. ‘How long will it take to get to Princeton?’

‘About an hour, sir,’ said the driver as he guided his passenger towards the short-term car park.

•••

‘Are you sure this is the right address?’ asked Miles, when the car finally drew up outside a small, isolated cottage on the outskirts of Princeton. He’d seen bigger garages in London.

‘This is the address they gave me,’ said the driver.

‘Then you’d better wait,’ said Miles. ‘This shouldn’t take too long.’

Miles got out of the car, opened the little wicket gate, walked up a short weed-infested path to the house and knocked on the door. He waited so long he began to wonder if anyone was at home, even though he’d made an appointment. He banged louder a second time, and the door was opened almost immediately.