‘What happens to the money?’ asked Singh, nodding at the briefcase in Shepherd’s hand.
‘She said I could keep it,’ he said. ‘As a signing-on fee.’ He left Singh staring after him, open-mouthed.
The Saudi sipped his champagne and sat back in the leather armchair. He was in the American Bar at the Savoy Hotel, drinking his favourite champagne, the Pol Roger cuvee Winston Churchill 1990. A fitting way to end his last night in London.
‘Celebrating?’ said a woman’s voice to his left. American.
The Saudi hadn’t noticed her at the next table, so she must have sat down while he was in conversation with the wine waiter. She was a striking blonde in her early twenties with an impressive figure squeezed into a red dress. She was wearing a gold Cartier watch, diamond pendant earrings, and a slim gold chain round her neck. No wedding ring. ‘I suppose I am,’ he said.
‘You know what Winston Churchill said about champagne?’ she asked.
The Saudi did, but he was happy enough to play the idiot.
She grinned. ‘“In victory, deserve it. In defeat, need it.” Isn’t that so true?’
‘It is,’ said the Saudi. ‘Why not join me?’
‘Are you sure?’ she asked. ‘You’re not waiting for anybody?’
‘It’s my last night in town,’ he said. ‘You can help me drink this.’
‘Okay,’ she said. She stood up and smoothed down the red dress, revealing several inches of cleavage. The skirt rode up her legs as she sat beside him. ‘I do love champagne.’ She placed a gold mesh evening bag on the table. An elderly waiter had anticipated her move and was walking over with a second glass. She giggled as he poured the champagne. ‘This is my lucky night,’ she said.
‘Mine too,’ said the Saudi. ‘I didn’t catch your name.’
‘I didn’t throw it,’ she said. She laughed. ‘Isn’t that a corny line? It’s Madison.’
‘Like the square?’
She nodded. ‘Exactly. Except I’m not. Square, that is.’
‘And what brings you to London, Madison?’
‘Just passing through.’
‘You’re on your own?’
‘Terrible, isn’t it? I’m in swinging London and can’t find a man.’
‘I don’t believe that for a moment,’ said the Saudi. Close up, the woman was near-faultless. And exactly his type. Tall, long legs, perfect breasts. She looked like a blonde Nicole Kidman, and the Saudi had always had a thing about the Australian actress.
‘Are you here on business or pleasure?’ asked Madison.
‘A bit of both,’ he said. He raised his glass. ‘Anyway, to chance encounters.’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ she said. She clinked her glass against his, then drank deeply. When she put it down there was a red smear across the rim. ‘Don’t you just love the Savoy?’ she said.
‘It’s my favourite hotel,’ he said. ‘Are you staying here?’
She shook her head. ‘No. But I always come to the American Bar – because I’m American, right?’ She laughed and patted his knee.
He liked her laugh. It was the laugh of a teenager. Despite that, she looked older now than he’d thought when he first saw her. Twenty-eight, maybe. ‘That makes sense,’ he said.
She didn’t take her hand off his knee. He could feel the heat of her flesh through his trousers and started to harden. She was looking around the bar, almost as if she’d forgotten she was touching him. Her full breasts rose and fell with her breathing. Her skin was flawless, slightly tanned, and he could see now that she wasn’t wearing a bra.
She turned back to him. ‘What are you thinking?’ she asked.
The Saudi smiled. ‘I can’t tell you,’ he said.
‘Try,’ she said, and looked him straight in the eye as if she already knew what was going through his mind.
He sipped his champagne slowly. ‘I was wondering how to get a beautiful woman like you into bed,’ he said.
‘A thousand dollars would do it,’ she said, running a long fingernail down his thigh. ‘And for that I’d just about fuck you senseless.’
Shepherd walked into the sitting room where Liam was watching a football match, his feet on the coffee table. ‘It’s almost nine,’ he said. ‘Time for bed. You’ve got school tomorrow. And what have I told you about putting your feet on the table?’
‘Dad, can’t I watch the end of this?’ said Liam, and moved his feet.
‘It’s late.’
‘I can’t even watch it in my room, can I?’
‘That’s not my fault.’
‘You took my television away.’
‘Because that was your punishment,’ said Shepherd. ‘You can read a book or something.’
‘So reading’s a punishment too, is it?’ said Liam, slyly.
Shepherd laughed. ‘You’ve definitely got a future as a defence barrister,’ he said. He sat down beside his son. ‘You know how we were talking about maybe finding a new house?’
Liam nodded.
‘How would you feel if we moved closer to your gran and granddad?’
‘Really?’
‘I’m thinking about it,’ said Shepherd.
‘Why?’
‘You could spend more time with them. We wouldn’t have such a long drive to see them. You were happy when you stayed with them, right?’
Liam frowned. ‘You’re not sending me to live with them again, are you?’