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‘It won’t be long now,’ he said, but what he didn’t tell her was it would be in a coffin.

The Governor pressed down the receiver, and the line went dead.

‘I think you’ll agree I’ve kept my part of the bargain,’ said the Governor. ‘Now I expect you to keep yours.’

‘Consider it done,’ said O’Driscoll, bringing his fingers together as if he was clutching someone’s throat. ‘But you’ll need the coffin to have left the prison, before the doctor comes on duty at eight o’clock tomorrow morning.’

‘However,’ said the Governor. ‘There’s been a slight change of plan.’ His turn to take O’Driscoll by surprise. He opened the top drawer of his desk and this time produced two small white pills, which he placed on the table in front of him. ‘Cyanide,’ he explained. ‘Just drop them in a glass of water and he’ll die within moments. If you were able to get a suicidenote with a written confession, that would be a bonus. If you do, I’d send your wife another hundred thousand.’ Not that he had any intention of doing so.

‘Fifty thousand in advance,’ said O’Driscoll, ‘in cash, if you want a suicide note as well as a written confession.’

The Governor hesitated before he opened the top drawer of his desk and handed over the fifty cellophane packets, confident he would be able to retrieve every last cent long before Hartley’s body had been buried.

It was only after O’Driscoll was being escorted back to his cell, his pockets stuffed with notes, that the Governor began to wonder why he wanted cash.

•••

Tony Blair sat alone in his study at Number 10, waiting for a call that had been booked for three o’clock. She was never late.

The phone rang at one minute to three.

Blair picked up the phone after one ring and said, ‘Good afternoon, Your Majesty,’ aware there could only be one person on the other end of the line.

‘Good afternoon, Prime Minister,’ said the Queen. ‘I have, as you suggested, had a word with King Fahd, and he assured me he will resolve the matter we discussed earlier.’

‘I am most grateful, ma’am.’

‘And I think we might still be in with a chance of the contract, after he told me he wanted to buy one of my thoroughbreds – a negotiation that took considerably longer. You should be hearing from Riyadh soon. Good day, Prime Minister.’

The line went dead, and moments later his private secretary came into the room.

‘How did it go?’ he asked.

‘That woman’s an Exocet,’ said the Prime Minister. ‘I think she might have just blown the French out of the water – and Hartley will be on his way home by the end of the week.’ He paused, looked up at his private secretary, and said, ‘If only the British people knew the half.’

CHAPTER 26

THEBRITISHAMBASSADOR WAS DELIGHTEDto receive a coded cable to let him know that, because of the King’s intervention, Simon Hartley would be released in the next few days. He performed a Highland reel.

He then pressed the little button under his desk and looked up, expecting his secretary to join him. She didn’t.

He pressed the button for a second time, but still no response. He left his finger on the button a little longer the third time, and when she didn’t appear he began to wonder if there was a problem.

Sir Bernard got up from behind his desk, walked across the room, and opened the door that led to Sally’s domain. He stood in the doorway and stared at a woman who rarely showed any emotion. Sally was sitting at her desk, head in hands, weeping.

He quickly joined her and placed an arm around her shoulder, something he’d never done before. She didn’t say a word, just looked up and handed him a letter.

Dear Ambasador,

I’m sorry to burden you with this letter, but I’ve just been told by the Governor about the tragic death of Avril Dubois. There seem to be no lengths Khalil will not go to in order to ensure the French are awarded the arms contract, and he gets his extra five per cent.

So now I must be realistic about my own future and accept that while Avril can no longer give evidence to show that it was not me who was responsible for Paolo Conti’s death but Prince Ahmed, I have no hope of being found not guilty, and therefore at best will have to spend the rest of my life in this hellhole, although it seems more likely I will suffer the same fate as my cellmate Sean O’Driscoll. Not something I’m willing to endure. With this in mind, I hope you will understand why I have decided to take my own life as, to quote Shakespeare’s Richard II: ‘For now they kill me with a living death.’ I confess it’s the coward’s way out, but still preferable to any other alternative.

I wonder if I might call on you to do me a kindness by telling my beloved wife, Heather, and our two daughters that my final thoughts were of them, and I can only hope they will understand why I have made this decision, and find it in their hearts to forgive me.

I remain, yours sincerely,

Simon Hartley