Be Careful What You Wish For (The Clifton Chronicles 4)

“Good morning, Thomas Cook and Son.”

“I’d like to book a first-class cabin for the Buckingham’s maiden voyage to New York.”

“Yes, of course, madam, I’ll put you through.”

“First-class reservations, how can I help you?”

“It’s Lady Virginia Fenwick. I’d like to book a cabin for the maiden voyage.”

“Could you repeat your name please?”

“Lady Virginia Fenwick,” she said slowly, as if addressing a foreigner.

A long silence followed, which Virginia assumed meant the booking clerk was checking availability.

“I’m so sorry, Lady Virginia, but unfortunately first class is completely sold out. Shall I put you through to cabin class?”

“Certainly not. Don’t you realize who I am?”

The clerk would have liked to say yes, I know exactly who you are, because your name has been pinned to the bulletin board for the past month with clear instructions to all sales clerks what to do if that particular lady phoned to make a booking, but instead he said, sticking to his script, “I am sorry, my lady, but there is nothing I can do.”

“But I am a personal friend of the chairman of Barrington’s Shipping,” said Virginia. “Surely that makes a difference?”

“It most certainly does,” replied the booking clerk. “We do have one first-class cabin still available, but it can only be released on the express order of the chairman. So if you’d be kind enough to give Mrs. Clifton a call, I’ll hold the cabin in your name, and release it immediately I hear back from her.”

They never heard back from her.

* * *

When Don Pedro heard the sound of a car horn, he folded his newspaper, placed it on the desk, picked up the rucksack and made his way out of the house.

The chauffeur touched his cap and said, “Good morning, sir,” before placing the rucksack in the boot of the Mercedes.

Don Pedro got into the back seat, closed the door and waited. When the chauffeur climbed behind the wheel, he didn’t ask where Don Pedro wanted to go because he’d already selected the route. They turned left out of Eaton Square and headed toward Hyde Park Corner.

“I’m assuming the agreed amount is in the rucksack,” said the chauffeur as they passed the hospital on the corner of Hyde Park.

“Two hundred and fifty thousand pounds in cash,” said Don Pedro.

“And we will expect the other half to be paid in full within twenty-four hours of carrying out our part of the agreement.”

“That is what I agreed,” said Don Pedro, as he thought about the £23,645 left in the safe in his office; all the money he possessed. Even the house was no longer in his name.

“You do realize the consequences if you don’t pay the second installment?”

“You’ve reminded me often enough,” Don Pedro said as the car proceeded up Park Lane, not exceeding the forty mile an hour speed limit.

“In normal circumstances, should you fail to pay on time, we would have killed one of your sons, but as they are both now safely back in Buenos Aires, and Herr Lunsdorf is no longer among us, that only leaves you,” said the chauffeur as he drove around Marble Arch.

Don Pedro remained silent as they proceeded down the other side of Park Lane, then stopped at a set of traffic lights. “But what if you don’t carry out your side of the bargain?” he demanded.

“Then you won’t have to pay the other two hundred and fifty thousand, will you?” said the chauffeur as he drew up outside the Dorchester.

A doorman dressed in a long green coat rushed up to the car and opened the back door to allow Don Pedro to step out.

“I need a taxi,” said Don Pedro as the chauffeur drove off to rejoin the morning traffic on Park Lane.

“Yes, sir,” said the doorman, raising an arm and letting out a piercing whistle.