Page 93

The Minister bowed his head. He had read about her death in the newspapers, but couldn’t accept that his son wasin any way involved. All Khalil had told him was Hartley was responsible for the hooker’s death.

‘I am willing to believe,’ said the King, ‘that a father’s love for his child is the reason you have overlooked some of your son’s minor indiscretions. But causing the death of an innocent man while having another man jailed for the offence – and all for the sake of another five per cent – is unacceptable by any standards.’

So the rumoursweretrue, thought the Minister, and no one had had the courage to tell him … except the King.

‘Your son will be stripped of any position he currently holds and will be punished according to Sharia law, while the Englishman will be released from prison without delay. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ mumbled the Minister, his head still bowed.

‘I will allow you one week to sort out the problem, and should you fail to do so, you will also be relieved of your duties.’

The King didn’t need to say another word, because it was clear the meeting was over.

The private secretary bowed, took a few paces backwards and left the Minister standing there.

Prince Majid forgot to bow, turned and chased after the private secretary. He only caught up with him by the time he’d reached the entrance to the palace. The Minister kept on walking down the steps and disappeared into the back of his car. When he looked up, the private secretary was nowhere to be seen and the palace doors had already been shut behind him.

During the journey back into the city, the Minister considered his options and came to the conclusion that he didn’thave any, if he hoped to survive. A career ruined by the black sheep of the family – although he accepted he had not been a good shepherd.

When his limousine finally came to a halt outside his office, he leapt out of the car and hurried into the building before the chauffeur had time to open the back door. He took the lonely elevator up to the forty-third floor, and went straight to his office.

He’d begun dialling even before he’d sat down at his desk.

The Chief of Police had never before received a personal call from the Minister of Defence. Usually from a secretary, and on rare occasions his deputy, but never the Minister himself. He even wondered if it was really him on the end of the line.

‘What can I do for you, Minister?’ asked the Chief of Police, standing to attention behind his desk.

•••

O’Driscoll sat up as the key turned in the first lock.

‘I think the money must have been transferred,’ he said.

The key turned in the second lock.

‘Then I must be a dead man,’ replied Simon, smiling. ‘But remember, when you’re negotiating with the Governor, you have nothing to lose.’

‘You’ve taught me well,’ said Sean, as the heavy door was pulled open. ‘I only wish we’d met thirty years ago.’

‘O’Driscoll,’ said a prison officer, standing in the doorway, ‘the Governor wants to see you. Now!’

Sean winked at his cellmate before he stepped out into the corridor and followed the armed guard on the long walk to the Governor’s office. A sharp knock on the door beforehe was allowed to enter, where he found the Governor seated behind his desk.

The guard closed the door and waited outside. The moment the Governor saw O’Driscoll, he began to dial. When a voice came on the line, he handed the phone across to the prisoner.

‘You’ve got one minute,’ he said, ‘no more.’

O’Driscoll grabbed the phone. ‘Is that you, Molly?’ he asked.

‘Yes, my darling,’ said a familiar voice that came crackling down the line.

‘Did you get the money I sent you?’

‘Yes, but I couldn’t believe it, Sean. A hundred thousand dollars has been deposited in my account. But then you always said you’d make a fortune if you went to Saudi.’

He couldn’t get the words out to express his feelings.

‘When will they be releasing you?’ she asked. ‘The kids can’t wait to see you, especially Patrick.’