Pia took off her sunglasses to watch the last glimmer of a beautiful sunset fade in the west. Her ponytail whipped at her neck as the cold wind swirled through the convertible.
Tania called. Pia held her phone to her ear so Albert Tindall, her passenger, wouldn’t see her hidden earbud.
Tania said, “Tanner finally got something out of the nursing staff. Liam had two broken ribs and a bullet hole in his bicep. Got his arm bandaged up. He left the hospital an hour ago against doctor’s orders. He tried to ditch our boys. They let him think he did.”
“Where did he go?”
“Glasgow. It seems he’s breaking the news to his in-laws in person.”
“Not the typical actions of a murderer,” Pia observed.
“Could be a cover story. Good news is, he kept his body armor. Getting shot will sober a man up fast. I’ll update you when we know more.”
Pia clicked off and concentrated on the narrow road meandering through the English countryside.
“It’s the road just there,” Albert said. Hunkered down in the passenger seat, he pulled his jacket tight around him. “Watch out! We drive on the bloody left.”
“Try not to pee your pants and keep talking,” she said.
It was no big deal. She’d only swung halfway into the right-hand lane before correcting and there wasn’t any traffic. No need to get excited.
He said, “McLaren’s going to want their car back in one piece, I reckon.”
“It’s mine. I bought it.”
“You can’t just buy a car and have the factory deliver it to your hotel day of.” He glanced at her. “Can you?”
“Ever noticed the Sabel logo on their Formula One cars?” she asked. “They love me. I’ve had four. Wrecked one. Trashed another. Transaxles just aren’t built for street racing. Now quit ducking my question.”
“I don’t know anything about the man.”
“I’m not big on jewelry,” Pia said. “I wear it to comfort people, make them see that I value them enough to dress up. They know I can afford it, they know I have it, so they expect me to show it off. They feel honored when I trot it out for them.”
“Would you please slow down?” Albert snarled. “We do have speed limits here, you know.”
“I don’t know much about ordinary trinkets,” she said, “but I’ve learned my way around the impressive stuff. That man wore an extraordinary diamond in one ear. He’s so proud of it, he doesn’t take it off when he goes operational. That’s risky. And it’s a big diamond. Big enough to glint through a windshield on CCTV. It’s a carat, maybe one and a half, too big to be a man’s stud. Which means it’s from a woman’s set. Boodles doesn’t make them that big without a surrounding ring of diamond chips. That tells me it’s from Tiffany’s. And big diamond pairs at Tiffany’s are over £20,000. Where would a former Para find that kind of money? Savings? I doubt it. Which means somewhere, a once-rich lady is missing one of her earrings. And that means our guy is not wearing it to impress anyone—it’s a trophy. He owns you.”
The engine roared behind their heads. Albert kept his nose to his window and squeezed his arms tighter around himself. “Doesn’t the heater work in this thing?”
“Your car is ten years old, your furniture is ratty, you stiffed the caterer at your fête—that tells me you’re flat broke. You’re a former Para, he’s a former Para, he’s parading around with your wife’s diamond in his ear, Albert. Tell me the fucking truth. Did you give it to him? Did he steal it from you? Did it settle a debt? Does Millie know?”
“Of course she knows!” he shouted. “She’s not like you, she doesn’t have spares. Doesn’t dial up the factory to buy a car on a moment’s notice.”
“What does he have on you?”
“Nothing.” He raised his hands in the air, then let them fall on his thighs. “We came home one day and there he was. Sitting in the living room, gin and tonic in one hand, feet on the coffee table, and my wife’s jewelry box lying there all strewn about. I knew him in the Paras, hadn’t seen him since. Somehow, he knew we were a bit tight and he offered a deal. He wanted Millie’s royal connections. Wanted some of them to visit the Morpheus, that was all. I’d get paid good money for bringing them in. Gave me a much-needed advance on commissions. Introductions, he said. Never told me what was to happen next. Nothing about killing anyone. I don’t believe that bit, frankly.”
“Rough way to recruit someone for a sales job.”
“I thought so too, but one must be discreet to land the royal family. I do similar work for Wayne Walker.” He twisted in his seat. “I’m quite good at it, you know. I put Walker in touch with some of the top business executives around the world. No one else could get those connections to line up. I’m a master at it.”
She hadn’t believed a thing he’d said since they got in the car. But his story about Mr. Bling showing up might have a kernel of truth. She asked, “And did you make the royal connections your diamond thief wanted?”
“I tried my best. Rohans didn’t pass the royal vetting process. Mr. Bling, as you so inelegantly call him, wanted me to make up for it with the people I’d arranged for Wayne to interview. A few went along, others scoffed at the whole idea. Eventually, I ran out of contacts.”
“And that’s when I showed up.”
“I thought it was a great bit of luck for all of us. I didn’t know about the danger. I never expected they’d attack you. Believe me. I had nothing to do with that. Nothing at all. I’m sick about it.”
“What’s his name?”
Albert choked and dropped his head. “I can’t tell you that.”
Pia glanced at him. She waited. He wouldn’t look up. She said, “I get it. He’ll kill you—and you think I won’t. Don’t push your luck, Albert.”
Was Albert the mastermind? Liars often tell a true story with roles reversed. It could have been that Albert gave him the diamond as a down payment for services. Perhaps Albert had failed to pay in a timely manner, like he failed the caterer at the fête, and the rest of the story was true. Mr. Bling had taken the diamond as collateral.
“It’s just here.” He pointed to a stone fence broken by a steel gate.
They were just outside of Bedford, fifty miles north of London, entering a sixty-acre estate. She pulled to the call box, pressed the button, and waited while the sheet of steel rolled to one side. No visible guards on duty but she sensed their energy close by. One on each side.
Before she could pull in, headlights filled the lane. Another car was leaving. When it pulled out of the private drive, her headlights illuminated the driver for a second. A familiar-looking face. She said, “Isn’t that your friend, Walker?”
“It did look like him.” Albert sounded surprised. “It would make sense; everyone wants to Walk with Walker. Very popular.”
“Did you set up a meeting between Walker and Chuck?”
“Ages ago. He needn’t involve me on subsequent visits.”
“I thought Chuck was a hermit.”
“Really, Pia,” he scoffed. “You should call him Lord Eden-Sonnet. It’s disrespectful.”
She drove through the gate onto a farm lane with barns on one side, stables on the other, then up a curving gravel drive through a row of trees. When they came through, the house appeared. A very neat Queen Anne-style country house. An unimaginative rectangle of red brick with three windows on each side of the front door. Above that, two rows of seven windows were symmetrically aligned to the ground floor. Two chimneys rose in front and two more in back.
She took the turning circle at speed, jammed down three gears, pounded the gas, and spun up the back tires. Gravel sprayed the front door as she slid to a stop.
“Was that necessary?” Albert asked.
“I don’t do doorbells.”