’Tis the last rose of summer,Left blooming alone;All her lovely companionsAre faded and gone.
Thomas Moore
Entering the hotel’s breakfast room – actually the dining room with different tablecloths – Alex spied Kingston seated at a corner table reading the newspaper. Alex pulled up a chair and sat down opposite him. Kingston was tapping his lower lip with the end of a pencil, eyes glued to the crossword puzzle. He had yet to acknowledge Alex’s arrival.
‘Bloody clever, that clue,’ Kingston muttered to no one in particular as he pencilled in the answer.
‘What clue?’ Alex asked.
He looked up, as if surprised to see Alex seated in front of him. ‘Oh, good morning, Alex. Sorry – this one’s a bit of a struggle,’ he said, putting the paper aside.
‘Let’s not forget to call Compton,’ said Alex.
‘I tried about fifteen minutes ago. No answer at his home number, and the machine’s on at the office. Probably sleeping in late, if he just got back from the States.’
‘I suppose it is a bit early. Let’s try again just before we leave.’
‘If we can’t reach him, we’ll just go up there. According to Emma he’s bound to show up sooner or later.’
Alex nodded. ‘Let’s hope this is the very last time we see that accursed rose. One way or another we must bring the whole business to an end today. Finished. Once and for all.’
Kingston folded the newspaper and picked up the breakfast menu. Looking over the top of it, he peered at Alex.
Alex was conscious of Kingston studying him. ‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘Looks like you didn’t get much sleep last night.’
‘I didn’t.’
‘Must say, it took me a long time to nod off. Kept thinking of that damned rose. I don’t think the lumpy mattress helped, either.’
Alex glanced at the menu for a few seconds, put it down and looked at Kingston. ‘I couldn’t get my mind off how many things could go wrong today. I must have played every possible scenario. Not once but over and over.’
Kingston’s voice took on an avuncular tone. ‘Look, Alex. We have absolutely no reason to believe that Kate isn’t okay and there’s no doubt in my mind that we’ll have her back, safe and sound, before the day’s over.’
‘I admire your confidence, Lawrence.’
‘From what he said on the phone, I think we can be certain of one thing, and that is that Wolff will bring her. Then, second, we know the rose is there, so where’s the problem? He gets the rose, we get Kate.’
Alex made an attempt at a smile. ‘I suppose you’re right. I can’t help thinking the worst, sometimes.’
The waitress arrived with a steaming carafe, poured them both coffee, and left with their orders.
Kingston took a sip and put the cup down. ‘Last night, while I was tossing and turning, I got to thinking about our conversation at the pub – about who could have killed Graham. I think I may have come up with an answer.’
‘Really?’
‘Well, it’s hypothetical of course.’
‘So, who did it, then?’
‘I think it was Tanaka.’
‘How so?’
‘What bothered me all along was that for Tanaka to be implicated he would have had to know about the journal and the formula. You and I had thought that was doubtful, remember?’
Alex nodded.
For a few seconds, Kingston stroked his chin thoughtfully, his eyes fixed on Alex. Then he spoke. ‘Here’s what I think happened.’ He held up a finger and wagged it. ‘Follow me carefully.’
Alex nodded again. He was visualizing a deerstalker hat pulled down on Kingston’s head and a curlicue pipe in his hand. ‘All right,’ he said.
Kingston lifted his chin. ‘Okay. When you faxed Stanhope’s letter to Adell he dismissed it as frivolous. I believe that was the word Kate told me he used. But at the same time – correct me if I’m wrong – you also told him about the existence of the missing journal and the crossing formula Graham claimed to have; that it was highly likely that the blue rose could be replicated.’
‘That’s right, I did.’
‘Well, stop and think for a moment what that meant to Adell. The auction is fast approaching and now, out of the blue – pardon the expression – he learns that the rose is no longer exclusive. That, in time, there could be thousands of blue roses on the market. It would really put the lid on things as far as the auction is concerned. So he had to do something to neutralize the situation, quickly. Don’t forget that Adell has a big financial stake in the auction and he can see those fat commissions evaporating.’
‘You’re right. I keep forgetting how much Adell was going to make on the sale.’
‘Exactly. It had to be a huge amount of money.’ He scratched his temple. ‘So where was I? Oh, yes. So Graham suddenly coming on the scene with the formula has an adverse cause and effect to whoever owns the real blue rose – or, putting it bluntly, it certainly reduces the rose’s value dramatically. The rose and the formula are sort of self-cancelling, if you see what I mean.’
‘I do, yes. So far, so good.’
‘Okeydokey. So Adell decides the only way out of the fix is to tell Tanaka that the rose’s value is substantially less and ownership no longer exclusive because it can be cloned – right?’
Come on, Lawrence, get to the point for God’s sake, Alex thought. He frowned, then said, ‘I think I see where you’re going with all this. He tells Tanaka – and Tanaka’s no fool. He realizes, instantly, that he must now own not only the rose but the hybridizing code too. Having one is no good without owning the other. Which is exactly what Adell hoped for.’
Kingston smiled. ‘Clever of you. But that’s not all.’
‘Really?’
‘No, there’s more. And this is pivotal. Our Mr Tanaka is very cunning. Owning either one is still acceptable – if the other is destroyed. And that’s what, I think, Tanaka decided to do. Probably he contacted Graham, telling him that he was interested in buying the formula. Then, he shows up at Graham’s house hoping to make a deal, in all probability demanding to see the missing journal containing the hybridizing code. From here on, exactly what happened is anybody’s guess. But from what we know, there was a struggle and Graham ended up dead. Thinking that he had killed Graham, Tanaka most likely got the hell out of there.’
‘Good heavens, did you figure that out last night?’
Kingston shrugged, then smiled. ‘It’s only a hypothesis, you know.’
Whether Kingston purposely avoided further conversation about Sapphire, Alex could not be sure. He seemed to be content to talk about other matters throughout breakfast. Most of what he said was lost on Alex, whose mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Kate and what they might encounter at Compton’s. He let Kingston drone on about the importance of research in botany as he concentrated on scraping the last drops of juice from his grapefruit.
Noting Alex’s indifference, Kingston took a final sip of coffee and turned to look out at the darkening sky.
‘Well, it looks like summer’s over. Ready to go?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Let’s get on with it then,’ he said, tucking The Times under his arm.
Alex shook his head. Kingston behaved more as though they were off for nine holes of golf rather than to persuade a total stranger – a rose grower, of all people – that he and his client had to give up a billion dollar, death-dealing rose, all in the name of humanity and science. Not to mention confronting a psychopathic and dangerous American, who would stop at nothing to get his hands on the same rose. Alex couldn’t help but admire Kingston.
One last attempt to reach Compton from a phone in the lobby proved unsuccessful.
They left the comforting warmth of the hotel and stepped into the cool breezy silence of the morning. The sky was a seamless canopy of grey. A street-cleaning vehicle droned its way up the High Street. Otherwise, it was too early for the first rumble of traffic that would later clog Lewes’ steep and ancient streets. They crossed the narrow road to the hotel car park, where Kingston slipped a metal token into the machine at the gate and the red-and-white striped barrier creaked upwards. Kingston struggled into the Alfa and closed the door. Once comfortable, he looked at Alex. ‘Baldie, was that the watchman’s name?’
‘That’s right,’ Alex replied.
Emma had told them to watch out for the day watchman – Archibald, Baldie for short. She’d promised to leave a note for him, to let him know that Alex and Kingston would be there Sunday morning.
The sound of the Alfa’s high-strung engine reverberated between the walls of the old Georgian buildings as they motored up the narrow street. Alex sighed, a long sigh of relief. Finally, they were on their way.
Alex brought the Alfa to a skidding stop on the gravel, facing Compton’s rustic front gate. He glanced at his watch. It was nine forty-five. The trip had taken them longer than he had estimated. Kingston was about to get out of the car but Alex insisted they wait for a few moments. On the drive from Lewes, Alex had told Kingston that he was not going to take one step out of the car until he was absolutely, positively certain that Tyson was chained up or had been given the day off. He’d been bitten as a young boy, he said, and had a scar to prove it.
To satisfy Alex, they waited for a couple of minutes. The only sounds came from the far-off lowing of cows and the uninterrupted birdsong. The sombre sky appeared even more menacing. Alex wondered what had happened to the promised ‘sunny intervals’.
‘Let’s go, then,’ Kingston said, getting out of the car, swinging the long wooden gate open, following its path along the arc that the bolt had gouged out of the dirt. Alex drove through and pulled into the same spot as the day before. Two other cars were parked nearby, a mud-daubed Land Rover and a shiny black new BMW. Kingston closed the gate behind him.
‘Ten to one that’s Compton’s Land Rover,’ said Alex, eyeing the cars. ‘I somehow don’t picture him as the BMW type.’
‘Who belongs to the BMW, then?’
Kingston nodded. ‘We’ll find out, won’t we?’
Alex took the camera case out of the Alfa and slammed the door closed. ‘You really think we’re going to need this?’
‘You may want a couple of pictures for your scrapbook,’ Kingston replied. ‘Let’s see if Compton’s in the office.’
‘More likely at the house, I would think, after a long flight. Didn’t Emma say it was close by?’
‘Yes, she did.’ Alex frowned. ‘I should have parked the car facing the other direction, just in case we have to make a quick getaway. Maybe we should have left the gate open.’
‘No, you never leave gates open in the country. The watchman chap, Archibald, would close it anyway.’
‘Talking of Baldie, that must be him.’ Alex was nodding towards the old barns, forty feet away. An elderly man was approaching. He wore a crumpled Barbour coat that reached to his shins. On either side of his checked cap, puffs of white hair protruded like candyfloss. He was wiry, with a face resembling a worn leather glove, and walked with a slight limp. As he came closer, they could see he had a shotgun under one arm.
‘That’s all we need,’ Alex whispered. ‘An armed guard.’
‘You don’t need to whisper. Emma said he’s deaf.’
‘You must be Archibald, ‘Alex shouted.
‘That’s me. You don’t have to shout. I’m not deaf, you know.’
Alex glared at Kingston.
Baldie gestured towards Alex’s camera case. ‘You must be them fellers from London?’ His accent had a rural singsong charm.
‘Yes, we are,’ said Alex, trying to sound as urbane as the three words would allow.
‘Emma said you’d be here to meet the boss. That’s his car over there,’ he said, pointing to the Land Rover. ‘But I ain’t seen him around yet.’ He tapped a bony finger on his temple, as if to jog his memory. ‘That’s what it was. Emma told me to tell you she took the dog with her – so no one’s going to bother you.’
‘What are you doing with the gun?’ Alex asked, now more at ease knowing that Tyson was no longer a threat.
Baldie put a cupped hand to his ear. ‘Eh? What was that?’
‘The gun. What’s with the gun?’ Alex mouthed the words as he said them.
‘Gonna see if I can get me a brace of rabbits up in the spinney in back of the village. You like a couple, too?’
‘That would be very nice,’ Kingston answered. ‘We’ll check the office then.’
‘You do that,’ said Baldie. He gave them a half-hearted wave and started toward the gate.
Alex and Kingston walked over to the office and knocked on the door. They waited for a moment, then Alex turned the doorknob. It was locked. Kingston put cupped hands up to his temples and peered into the window. ‘Nobody home,’ he said. ‘Let’s go and have a look at Sapphire.’
A ground fog had moved in, cloaking the area in a fine mist. Alex shivered, glad that he’d brought the scarf. Not surprisingly, the gate in the fence that circled the paddock was secured with a new padlock. Alex was relieved that they wouldn’t have to go in for a closer inspection after all. Kingston motioned to him with a beckoning movement. ‘Pass me the camera case, would you, Alex,’ he said.
Alex handed it to him, watching with curiosity as Kingston opened one of the outside pockets, fished around and produced a Swiss Army knife. He held it aloft for a moment and winked at Alex. ‘One of the world’s greatest inventions, me boy!’ he said, starting to probe the lock with the tiniest screwdriver Alex had ever seen. ‘Good – it’s not a tumbler type padlock. Shouldn’t be much of a problem,’ Kingston muttered as he probed with the miniature tool. Alex heard a click and the lock fell open. Smiling smugly, Kingston replaced the little screwdriver back in its ingenious housing inside the corkscrew tool, folded up the knife and put it back in the camera case.
‘I would never have guessed that burglary was among your many talents, Lawrence,’ Alex said. ‘You never cease to amaze me.’
The gate swung noiselessly and easily on its galvanized hinges and they entered Sapphire’s sanctum. A rabbit scurried along one side of the fence looking for a way of escape. The sudden movement made Alex flinch.
They had now reached the planter box. Alex lowered the camera bag gently to the ground. Kingston walked slowly around the box, studying the rose from all angles, occasionally bending down for closer inspection. Seemingly satisfied with what he saw, he stood back and folded his arms. ‘Doesn’t seem credible, does it, Alex? That something so innocent-looking could be capable of such evil. I’m not sure why we need them, but we might as well take a couple of pictures while we’re waiting.’
‘The light’s very bad,’ said Alex, ‘but what the heck.’ Taking out the Nikon, he put it up to his eye, framed the rose in the viewfinder and adjusted the focus. Just as he was about to take the shot, Kingston walked into the frame, bent down and picked something up from inside the planter box. ‘You’re in the picture – what’s that?’ Alex asked.
‘A marker of some kind.’ He held it at arm’s length attempting to read it.
‘What are you two up to?’ a loud and commanding voice barked.
Alex spun round, lowering the camera, to see two men walking toward them across the paddock.
The shorter of the two had slick black hair, a well-groomed beard and wore a long trench coat. As they came closer Alex could see that his features were slightly Asian. ‘I bet you anything that’s Tanaka,’ Alex whispered to Kingston.
Kingston nodded imperceptibly.
The other man was balding with greying sideburns and ruddy cheeks. He wore a sleeveless leather jacket over a khaki rib-knit sweater and corduroy trousers that were tucked into his boots.
‘I’m Charlie Compton,’ he said in a measured tone. ‘You must be the two chaps that Emma mentioned – from the magazine.’
‘Yes, we are,’ Kingston said, stepping forward. ‘She mentioned us, then? About wanting to interview you?’
‘She did,’ said Compton.
‘Well, I’m afraid that’s not the case.’
Compton looked perplexed. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m sorry to say, none of it is true. We told her that as a cover, to gain access to your property to search for this rose,’ Kingston said, nodding in the direction of the rosebush. ‘By the way, I’m Dr Kingston and my friend here is Alex Sheppard.’
‘Search my property?’ Compton folded his arms across his chest and glared at them. ‘You’ve got a hell of a bloody nerve! That’s all I can say.’
‘I apologize for the deception,’ said Kingston. ‘But there was no other way.’
‘This had better be good,’ Compton grunted.
‘Don’t worry, it will be,’ said Kingston. He paused. ‘Actually, that’s not entirely true,’ he added. ‘You’re not going to like what I’m about to tell you.’ He glanced at Tanaka. ‘Particularly you. You are Kenji Tanaka, aren’t you?’
Tanaka’s eyes narrowed. ‘It’s none of your business who I am.’ He turned to Compton. ‘These two have no business here, they’re trespassing. I think you should tell them to leave.’
Kingston ignored Tanaka’s remark. ‘Compton, you should know that this rose is stolen property. It was taken from the garden of a friend of ours in Market Drayton over a week ago.’ He nodded at Tanaka. ‘Taken by him.’
‘You’re lying,’ Tanaka snapped. ‘I purchased this rose for a client of mine. Legitimately. Mr Compton–’
Kingston didn’t let Tanaka finish. ‘This rose belongs to Alex Sheppard, and you damn well know it.’
Clearly upset and lost for words, Compton scowled at Tanaka, then at Kingston.
‘It’s all true,’ said Kingston, quietly.
Tanaka, his face screwed up in frustration, searched Compton’s eyes. ‘Surely, you’re not buying this,’ he said. ‘It’s obvious what they’re trying to pull. Can’t you see that they want the rose for themselves?’
Compton looked at Tanaka again. ‘Come to think of it, Ken, you never did mention who you bought the rose from,’ he said.
Tanaka didn’t answer. Not a muscle moved on his face. His dark eyes went slowly from Kingston, to Alex, then back to Compton. His voice was unexpectedly calm. ‘I bought that rose over there from a man named Graham Cooke. It was his uncle who hybridized it, in fact. Isn’t that correct, Sheppard?’ He paused, now looking at Alex. ‘You know it is, don’t you?’ he snapped.
Alex looked quickly at Kingston out of the corner of his eye. ‘We believe that might be the case, but–’
Tanaka cut in before Alex could finish. ‘You see, Compton, he admits it. This has nothing to do with them whatsoever.’
Compton looked more confused than ever.
Tanaka’s tone became angry, his voice louder. ‘Look, we have a lot of work to do, Compton. I’m starting to get impatient. Just tell these two to get the hell out of here, before it gets nasty.’
Compton said nothing, nervously rubbing his chin.
‘Well, do something, man, don’t just stand there,’ Tanaka shouted.
The four of them stood by the rose, each waiting for the other to say something. Instead, another voice, strident and menacing, broke the eerie silence.
‘Stay right where you are. All of you.’
Alex spun around. That voice. American. At first he thought he recognized it. But no, it wasn’t the man who had been phoning. He’d know that voice, anywhere. A tall man wearing a dark windbreaker zipped up over a black turtleneck stood at the entrance to the paddock. He was gripping a sinister-looking small black pistol in his right hand.
‘That rose doesn’t belong to any of you. That rose is mine,’ he said, starting to walk toward them.