The boy produced his father’s latest book. “We all love William Warwick,” he said, before moving on to the next car. Would his father believe him?
It took another hour before they drew up outside the Taj Mahal Hotel, by which time Seb was exhausted and soaked with perspiration.
When he stepped inside the hotel, he entered another world and was quickly transported back to the present day.
“How long will you be staying with us, sir?” asked a tall, elegant man in a long blue coat, as Seb signed the registration form.
“I’m not sure,” said Seb, “but at least two or three days.”
“Then I’ll leave the booking open-ended. Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?”
“Can you recommend a reliable car hire firm?”
“If it’s a car you require, sir, the hotel will happily supply you with a chauffeur-driven Ambassador.”
“Will it be possible to keep the same driver for the whole visit?”
“Of course, sir.”
“He’ll need to speak English.”
“In this hotel, sir, even the cleaners speak English.”
“Of course, I apologize. I have one more request—could he possibly be a Hindu?”
“Not a problem, sir. I believe I have the ideal person to meet all your requirements, and I can recommend him highly, because he’s my brother.” Seb laughed. “And when would you want him to start?”
“Eight o’clock tomorrow morning?”
“Excellent. My brother’s name is Vijay and he’ll be waiting for you outside the main entrance at eight.” The receptionist raised a hand and a bellboy appeared. “Take Mr. Clifton to room 808.”
19
WHEN SEBASTIAN LEFT his hotel at eight o’clock the following morning, he spotted a young man standing beside a white Ambassador. The moment he saw Seb heading toward him, he opened the back door.
“I’ll sit in the front with you,” said Seb.
“Of course, sir,” said Vijay. Once he was behind the wheel he asked, “Where would you like to go, sir?”
Seb handed him an address. “How long will it take?”
“That depends, sir, on how many traffic lights are working this morning and how many cows are having their breakfast.”
The answer turned out to be just over an hour, although the milometer indicated that they had covered barely three miles.
“It’s the house on the right, sir,” said Vijay. “Do you want me to drive up to the front door?”
“No,” said Seb as they passed the gates of a house that was so large it might have been mistaken for a country club. He admired Priya for never having mentioned her father’s wealth.
Vijay parked in an isolated spot, down a side road from where they could see anyone coming in or out of the gates, while they would be unlikely to be noticed.
“Are you very important?” asked Vijay an hour later.
“No,” said Seb. “Why do you ask?”
“Because there’s a police car parked just down the road, and it hasn’t moved since we arrived.”
Seb was puzzled but tried to dismiss it as a coincidence, even though Cedric Hardcastle had taught him many years ago to always be wary of coincidences.