“That must be hard.”
“It is hard. I just needed a break from it. I just wanted to drive and listen to music. No phone. No arseholes trying to call me. Present company excepted, of course.” She gave a weak smile.
“There were some things I needed to talk with you about.” He spoke gently, finding himself convinced by Eliza’s words and manner. “Do you know a woman by the name of Sophie Edwards?”
A look of bewilderment passed over her face. “I know a Sophie Edwards,” she explained. “But I imagine there would be more than a few people by that name in London.”
“This Sophie was at LSE with you.”
“Then yes. Why are you asking?”
“Actually,” Knight smiled, anxious that Eliza was becoming too defensive, “it’s for another case Private is working. I saw your name on her class records.”
“Oh.” Eliza relaxed a little. “Small world, isn’t it? But yes, we were in the same class at LSE. We kept in touch, but we aren’t particularly close.”
“When was the last time you saw her?”
“The weekend before last. She came to one of my bigger dinner parties with her boyfriend.”
“She has a boyfriend?” Knight asked, hiding his surprise.
“Sort of. I don’t know how serious they are exactly, but it’s London. His name’s Mayoor Patel; he’s a hedge fund manager that I work with pretty often. Great guy. Very funny.”
“Does he come to all of your dinner parties?”
It was a moment before Eliza replied. “No.”
“Why?”
“Because he brings Sophie,” she admitted, breaking her gaze from Peter.
“And Sophie had a thing for your father?” Knight guessed, seeing his torpedo strike.
“Two types of people go to LSE, Peter. Those who want to make money, and those who want to take it.”
“And which one was Sophie?”
Eliza smiled, but there was no happiness in it. Only malice and resentment. “She looked at my dad like he was a five-star meal ticket. Why are you asking me all this, Peter? And don’t bullshit me about other investigations. I’m not stupid, so spit it out.”
Private’s agent met her wild stare. “I think Sophie Edwards was the one blackmailing your father.”
Chapter 36
THE STATE OF the battered and shot-up Range Rover drew stares from the two plain-clothed guards at Llwynywermod’s gate, the two men emerging from a four-by-four of their own and into the rain. “Are you all right?” they asked their colleague Lewis.
“I’m good,” she beamed. “Got one of them through a passenger window.”
“You ally bastard,” one of the guards grinned. Jane Cook recognized the army slang for “cool.”
“We need to see the Princess,” Lewis followed up. “Like, now.”
“She’s not here, mate.” The evident soldier shook his head. “Chopper took her out earlier. Got an event on in London.”
“Opening a school, I think it was,” his partner added.
“Shit,” Lewis sighed.
Jack Morgan was not so deflated—Princess Caroline wasn’t the only one with access to helicopters, and on Morgan’s instructions, Private dispatched one to Wales.