The quacking of a duck jolted James out of his slumber. He looked over at the ringing smartphone on his bedside table and groaned. It was four o’clock in the morning, and the streets of the Upper East Side were bare. New York was still asleep. James leaned over and checked the caller ID. His heart raced as he grabbed the phone and shot out of bed.
Please be good news.
‘His lawyer pushed for a quick trial,’ the familiar voice of PC Chan said through the speaker, a hint of panic lingering in the air from the early-morning call. ‘It was over in a matter of days.’
‘The verdict?’
James listened to the PC exhale, and a knot started to form in the pit of his stomach.
‘Guilty. At one stage, we didn’t think it would end like that.’
James exhaled. His faith in the British justice system was not misplaced.
James’s tall, tired frame dropped onto the bed. He pulled at the leg of his pyjama pants as he sat down. James had worked hard to collect evidence to prove Alistair murdered Pippa and had figured out where he was holding Valentine and Elizabeth. It was a satisfying payoff.
‘What did you mean when you said that you didn’t think Alistair would get a guilty verdict?’ James said with a cold voice.
‘Alistair’s lawyer was QC Bradley Evans.’
‘As in the criminal barrister.’ James rolled his eyes and placed his hand on his hip. ‘Don’t tell me.’
‘The judge was Lord William Cavendish. Rumours are going around that they’re in the same polo club.’
James froze as the name left Chan’s lips. He dismissed the thought. No way.
‘Of course, they are.’ James placed the smartphone on the bedside table and hit the speaker button.
‘He tried to make us look like fools as well,’ PC Chan said in a hushed tone. ‘Anwar and I didn’t have enough time to help the Crown Prosecutor build a case. And the prosecution was understaffed and overworked. But we got lucky.’
‘What about the computer found in Pippa’s apartment that wasn’t present during your initial sweep? Was that included as evidence? Looking back, I now realise that it was probably planted.’
‘Yes,’ Chan said with a weary tone. ‘Alistair did plant evidence that pointed towards Maximilian being a potential suspect. We found his fingerprints on the inside and outside of the puzzle box and on all the jewellery. And we even found his prints on the key to the drawer where you found the puzzle box. So that’s why he had to ransack Maximilian’s office.’
James sat on the edge of his bed in silence.
‘James—’ Chan called out from the tiny speaker.
‘What about the anonymous major investor behind the dig? Did you meet him? Was he involved?’ James bit his lip as he glanced over at his phone.
Chan cleared his throat. ‘No, he was only ever present on paper. There were random calls to a US prepaid mobile, but the numbers were dialled once. So, he was smart. But they all said the same thing. It was an anonymous cheque that came in when they needed it.’
‘What did Lord William Cavendish say?’
‘He didn’t push the matter any further.’
James sighed. Don’t ask about her, you fool.
‘I guess you’re wondering about Valentine and Elizabeth?’
James leapt off the bed and paced the floor of his bedroom.
‘She seemed quite traumatised and is living off the grid.’ Chan paused. ‘Getting a hold of her was not easy. And Elizabeth is in rehab, thanks to a wealthy benefactor, and Alistair’s parents have asked her to be the official resident at the Carmichael Estate.’
Merde. I have to tell him.
Chan sighed. ‘You’re not going to like this.’
‘Just cut to the chase.’ James adjusted his posture and turned his ear towards the phone.
‘Elizabeth also said you were an editor with empty space on the front page and wanted to create drama to improve the Northampton Tribune’s falling circulation.’
Why am I not surprised?
‘There is nothing wrong with the Tribune’s circulation. They have a thriving online edition and a wide circulation. That’s bullshit.’
A few moments later, James paused in the centre of the room, sprinted over to the bedside table, picked up the phone, and sat.
‘What about Maximilian? He knew about Valentine. Remember my recording?’
Chan sighed. ‘Upon questioning Maximilian, he revealed that he found out about Valentine sometime on Wednesday morning. He planned to return to the NMA when Alistair was busy on Wednesday evening to release the women and hand them over to the police. And, apparently, he wasn’t completely sure if it was Alistair or another interested party. He became suspicious when Alistair texted him about finding a piece of the sword later, on Wednesday evening.’
‘And you believe him?’
‘Yes, he was very cooperative with the police, to a certain extent.’
‘What about the security guards?’
‘Retired early.’
‘Really?’
‘We couldn’t get hold of them.’
Chan cleared his throat. ‘Anyway, he was caught on a technicality despite their attempts to derail the prosecution. The fingerprint on the ransom note you received matched Alistair. And he slipped up. He knew too much about Pippa’s death. In questioning, he let it slip that she was stabbed in the back. He made the stabbing action. Dr Olivier Deschamps said that the action was the right angle.’
Exhausted, James pulled his weary body off the bed and paced the room for a second time. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’
The line fell silent.
‘Three months ago, in August, I was involved in a similar case that included a mediaeval artefact. There’s a lot I can’t talk about because it’s a part of an official case that now involves MI6, but I can put you in touch with someone who knows.’
‘Who?’
‘Her name is Detective Inspector Alice O’Donnell. She works at St Aldgate’s Police station in Oxford.’ James sighed. ‘Chan, this mysterious investor is dangerous. Please be careful, and I mean super careful.’
‘That’s why you’ve been changing your number all the time,’ Chan said in a high-pitched tone.
‘Yeah,’ James groaned. ‘How are things with you?’
‘Fascinating change of topic.’
‘Sorry I asked.’
‘Well,” the other man paused, “you can call me Sergeant Chan from now on, for starters.’
James smiled. ‘Since, when?’
‘Yesterday, I received the results of my sergeant’s exam in the mail. The Super recommended me for the exam after Alistair’s arrest. I guess I managed to impress the right people.’
James nodded. ‘It was well deserved.’
‘Thanks.’
A pair of bright blue eyes watched QC Bradley Evans climb into his chauffeur-driven car and head down the Carmichael estate’s driveway. Maximilian felt like he was about to make another deal with the devil, a feeling all too familiar to him. But he had no time for guilt. He had responsibilities.
After all, that led him into this mess in the first place—the need to impress his father and make him proud. Deep down, he knew it was a fruitless task but still worth pursuing. It was torture. Now he had to get his parents back. Despite Alistair’s attempts to keep the sword for himself and protect his legacy, Maximilian had been working behind the scenes. He did what Alexander wanted, no matter what came his way. And he wanted his parents back and the antidote administered. That was the deal.
‘We should be smart about this,’ Maximilian said over his shoulder. Then he took a sip of his scotch and stared out the window. ‘It makes more sense to tour the sword instead of keeping it in your private collection.’
‘Well, you know I’m intrigued,’ a man with an American accent said from behind him.
Maximilian turned and stared at the blond curly-haired man, then at his octogenarian assistant, Miles Waterhouse, who was sitting next to him on the sofa. Out of the corner of his eye, Maximilian could see Elizabeth sitting in an armchair, with a smile on her face, without a care in the world. She was quite the actress. Yet, underneath this calm façade of hers was a cyclone of panic and paranoia. Why shouldn’t Elizabeth be happy? Alistair’s parents loved her like she was their own daughter—they had taken her under their wing. And the Carmichaels had retired to their holiday home in Cannes. She was now the official caretaker of the Carmichael Estate. On top of this, Alexander, the dig’s major investor, had paid for her stay in an exclusive rehabilitation centre.
‘We could pitch the exhibit to a few museums. New York, Paris, London, Sydney. All of the usual places. Charge an admission fee. We could split the profits between all of the investors,’ Maximilian suggested. ‘The longer we tour, talk about the sword and its excavation, and point tourists towards Tintagel, the better it will be for everyone. Tintagel will get a much-needed boost in tourism as we promised. And after the tour, the sword could remain in your private collection for further research.’
‘What about merchandise?’ Alexander brushed the trousers of his charcoal suit, then looked at Maximilian.
‘That’s a great idea.’ Elizabeth got up from her chair and headed to the drinks cart. She paused for a moment. After taking a deep breath, she picked up the bottle of scotch, walked over to Alexander, and poured him a fresh glass.
‘So, how are my parents? I trust they are well.’ Maximilian placed his scotch glass on the window and walked to the centre of the room, where he sat down in the chair opposite Miles.
‘Your father is well.’ Alexander sipped his scotch.
‘And my mother?’
‘I’m sorry to inform you, but the virus has mutated and isn’t responding to the antidote,’ Alexander said in a hushed tone. ‘She’s in my facility in Boston. I’m working on a new antidote, but it doesn’t look good. I’m afraid she might die.’
‘I want my parents back. That was the deal.’ Maximilian shot out of the chair and grabbed Alexander by the collar.
Miles stood up and pulled a gun out of his jacket.
‘Go on. Shoot me. And after you do, good luck finding the sword. I’m the only one who knows where it’s hiding.’ Maximilian stared at the old man with his cold, hard, blue eyes.
There’s a piece missing. It’s in New York with a certain Daily Voice journalist. But not for long.
Alexander waved his hand towards Miles, who put his gun back in his pocket and sat down. ‘Threatening and killing me isn’t going to bring your mother back.’
‘True, but it’ll be a nice substitution.’ Maximilian released his grip on Alexander’s collar. ‘No one will miss you once they realise who you really are.’ Maximilian towered over Alexander.
‘I’m working around the clock to find a cure. It’s in my best interests. Imagine the pharmaceutical benefits.’
Maximilian stepped back. ‘I want them back.’
‘Your father has been released, but he won’t leave your mother’s side. He’s currently staying at the facility, but he can come and go as he pleases,’ Alexander said calmly. ‘I realise that your family is important. That’s natural, so I’ll forgive your aggressive outburst.’
‘How very magnanimous of you.’ Maximilian watched Alexander and Miles get up from the couch.
‘You can expect a call from your father in five hours.’ Alexander checked his watch.
‘I’m returning to Boston to check up on my parents.’ Maximilian squinted at the entrepreneur.
‘Very well. You can expect your father to meet you at the airport.’ Alexander turned around and walked towards the foyer with Miles following closely.
‘For a moment, I thought I was going to spend the morning burying two bodies,’ Elizabeth mused, standing behind Maximilian.
‘Don’t put your shovel away too soon.’ Maximilian walked to the window and watched the two men climb into the black hire car.
‘So, you know where the sword is?’ Elizabeth asked as Maximilian turned around. ‘All of the pieces?’
Interesting, she genuinely doesn’t know where Alistair hid the sword. I wonder why he never told her about the secret passage in the basement of the NMA. And I wonder what else he’s hidden in there?
Maximilian sighed. ‘There’s one piece with James. And he’s now in New York working for the Daily Voice. So I need to get it back, but it’s not going to be easy.’
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows.
‘I know what you think of me, but I don’t like doing these things. I have to.’ Maximilian glared at her. ‘What other choice do I have?’