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‘How many reserved seats will you require on the day of the auction?’ asked Davidge. ‘I only ask because it’s already oversubscribed.’

‘Just a couple for my lawyer, Mr Booth Watson, and myself,’ said Miles. ‘In the front row.’

‘Of course,’ said Davidge. ‘Would you also like to join me at the press conference later today?’

‘No,’ said Miles firmly, well aware that if he did attend, the jackals would only have one question on their lips, one that he wouldn’t want to answer. ‘No, I have a meeting with my lawyer, who has just flown in from London.’

•••

Miles wasn’t surprised to find Booth Watson waiting for him in the bar of the Park Plaza like a dutiful lapdog. If he’d had a tail, it would have started wagging the moment he entered the room.

‘Any news from London?’ Miles asked, after ordering a whisky mac.

‘Scott has been charged,’ replied Booth Watson, ‘but you can be assured, they’ll not find anything that links him to you. And I know you’ll want to know that the Fitzmolean board will be meeting to elect their new chairman tomorrow evening.’

Miles nodded. ‘And Ms Bates is well prepared to play her role?’

‘She’s word perfect,’ Booth Watson assured him.

‘If Ms Bates is elected as chair,’ said Miles, ‘I might even get my Rubens back, once you’ve explained to her, BW, what “on permanent loan” actually means. But on to more important news. Davidge is predicting that when the Declaration comes under the hammer, it could fetch as much as fifty million.’

‘Not a bad return remembering you only paid half a million for it in the first place,’ said Booth Watson.

‘As well as a Constable that wasn’t a Constable,’ Miles reminded him.

‘Did anyone raise the subject of the missing letter?’ asked Booth Watson, moving on.

‘In passing,’ said Miles, ‘but more important, Rosenberg has confirmed the Fair Copy is unquestionably authentic, and when they asked him about the letter, all he said was he hasn’t come across anything to show such a letter ever existed.’

‘So you’ve crossed that hurdle,’ said Booth Watson.

‘That man’s honesty will surely get the better of him one day,’ replied Miles.

‘Which I can safely predict, Miles, will never be a problem for you.’

‘Try not to forget which side you’re on, BW,’ said Miles.

•••

Miles checked his new watch. ‘I have to make a call,’ he said, ‘but I’ll be back in a few minutes.’ Once he was safely back in his room, Miles sat down and dialled the number slowly. He had to wait for some time before the call was answered.

‘Who is this?’ asked a suspicious-sounding voice.

‘Miles Faulkner. As I’m sure you know, we’ve kept our side of the bargain. But I can’t see any sign that you’ve kept yours.’

‘That hasn’t proved quite as easy as I’d originally thought,’ said Khalil.

‘Then you’d better listen carefully to my next question Mr Khalil,’ said Miles. He paused for a moment before he asked, ‘When is your next birthday?’

‘In a couple of months’ time,’ said Khalil. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘Because if Simon Hartley makes it back to England, you won’t be opening any presents this year.’ Miles hung up and went back down to join Booth Watson at the bar.

•••

William dialled his number just after lunch, assuming Special Agent Buchanan would be at his desk by then.

‘I know exactly why you’re calling,’ said an unmistakable transatlantic voice, when he picked up the phone. ‘And the answer is yes.’