Page 83 of End Game

‘How are things at the Fitz?’ William asked, changing the subject.

‘Couldn’t be much worse,’ admitted Beth.

‘Has Christina burnt down the museum on your day off?’ he asked, as the maître d’ poured them both a second glass of wine.

‘Far worse,’ said Beth. ‘Miles Faulkner has been elected to the board, so I … well, I felt I had no choice but to resign.’

‘I had no idea,’ said William, once again taking her hand. ‘I’m so sorry. But why didn’t you tell me?’

Beth remained silent as their plates were whisked away. ‘Because you have quite enough to worry about,’ said Beth, ‘and after Jackie, I just … I didn’t want to add to your problems.’

‘I’m so very sorry,’ repeated William, squeezing her hand. ‘But surely Christina put up a fight? The last thing she’d want is for her ex to be taking her place on the board.’

‘The vote went against her after Faulkner promised to leave his private collection, including the Van Gogh self-portrait, to the Fitz. Once the board had voted five to one to accept the offer, Christina didn’t feel she had the right to oppose his election, even though, as Wilbur pointed out, now that he’s on the board, there’s nothing to stop him rewriting his Will and not informing them.’

‘I suspect he has his eyes on higher things,’ said William, moving on.

Beth emptied her glass. ‘Like what?’

•••

Ross sat behind the wheel of his taxi at the end of Cadogan Square that evening and when Faulkner appeared, just after seven, dressed in his familiar long black coat with velvet collar, Collins leapt out of the Rolls and opened the back door to allow his master to climb in.

Collins drove him to the Savoy, where he disappeared inside, no doubt heading for his usual watering hole.

The only surprise was that Booth Watson arrived a few minutes later. Ross had never known him to be late before.

•••

Rebecca’s evening was proving equally uneventful. She had followed CN1 when it left the residence on Portland Place all the way to Chinatown, where it had parked outside his Excellency’s favourite restaurant, and she had watched as the Ambassador and his wife disappeared inside. She sat alone, munching a ham sandwich, which she tried to make last as long as possible. She heard the news on the hour twice.

The Ambassador and his wife reappeared just before the ten o’clock news, climbed into the back of their limousine and were whisked away.

Rebecca brushed a crumb off her jacket before following them back to the residence. She didn’t go home until she’d seen the driver park the car and disappear inside the back door of the embassy.

•••

‘If I remember correctly,’ said William, as a succulent steak was placed in front of him, ‘it can’t be too long before Christina stands down as chairman.’

‘At the end of the year,’ said Beth. ‘But if Faulkner were to become the next chairman, I think Christina will finally carry out her threat to kill him.’

‘It will be quite hard for him to become chairman,’ said William, ‘if he’s in jail.’

‘That’s the first piece of good news I’ve heard in weeks,’ said Beth. ‘I don’t suppose you intend to tell me how you’re going to pull that one off?’

William gave her a sphinx-like smile.

‘I thought as much,’ said Beth. ‘And because Jojo was a member of the presentation party, she will be allowed to join the British team out on the track for tomorrow’s closing ceremony.’

‘Lucky girl. While you’ll only be allowed to sit in a reserved box with Christina, Wilbur, the twins and Robert for company.’

Beth dropped her knife and fork, threw her arms around William and said, ‘All is forgiven.’

‘However, I must warn you,’ said William, ‘you’ll be sharing the box with the two professors, a general and two REME sergeants – but at least you’ll be in the front row.’

Beth raised an eyebrow in hope of an explanation.

‘Don’t even ask,’ said William. ‘It’s a very long story.’ He paused to take a sip of the wine, before he said, ‘Well, several long stories.’