Cometh the Hour Read online

  “Of course,” Seb repeated.

  “Some time ago you asked me if I’d like to join the board of Farthings. I’m calling to find out if the offer is still open.”

  Sebastian was speechless.

  “Are you still there, Seb?”

  “Yes,” he managed eventually.

  “I would consider it a great honor to serve under Hakim Bishara,” said Giles, “if he still felt I could be of any assistance.”

  * * *

  When the phones were no longer ringing off the hook, Sebastian finally decided to go home, although there was one person he still had to call. But he decided it would be easier to speak to her from the privacy of his flat.

  On the way home to Pimlico, he suddenly felt hungry, as he hadn’t had any lunch. He couldn’t face eating out, and certainly didn’t feel like cooking, so he stopped off at a takeaway to pick up a large pepperoni pizza. By the time he’d parked outside his block of flats, his mind had turned to the problems he would have to face at tomorrow’s emergency meeting, now that Adrian Sloane was back on the board. He let himself in to Pimlico Mansions, and took the lift to his apartment on the ninth floor. As he opened his door, he could hear the phone ringing.

  * * *

  Hakim Bishara looked closely at the man seated across the table from him. Once again, he was playing the game his father had taught him. Mr. Hammond’s dark blue suit was well tailored but off the peg; his white shirt had been put on less than an hour ago. His tie was crested, probably a rugby club, and his shoes could only have been polished by someone who’d served in the armed forces. His head was shaven, his body slim and agile, and although he must have been in his mid-forties, not many thirty-year-olds would have wanted to step into the ring with him. Hakim waited for him to speak. The voice offers so many more clues.

  “I only agreed to see you, Mr. Bishara, because you’re a friend of Mr. Hardcastle.”

  Essex, tough, streetwise. Hammond turned to his left and gave Arnold a slight nod.

  “And I owe him. He got me off when I was guilty. Are you guilty, Mr. Bishara?” he asked, his deep brown eyes focused on Hakim as if he were a python eyeing up his lunch.

  Hakim could hear Seb’s voice in his ear telling him to stay calm. “No, I am not guilty, Mr. Hammond,” he replied, returning his stare.

  “Have you ever taken drugs, Mr. Bishara?”

  “Never,” said Hakim calmly.

  “Then you won’t mind rolling up your sleeves, will you?” Hakim carried out the order without question. Hammond’s eyes scanned his arms. “And now your trousers.” He rolled up each leg of his trousers. “Open your mouth, I want to look at your teeth.” Hakim opened his mouth. “Wider.” He peered inside. “Well, one thing’s for certain, Mr. Hardcastle. Your friend has never taken drugs in his life, so he’s passed the first test.” Hakim wondered what the second test would be. “Now let’s find out if he’s a dealer.”

  * * *

  Sebastian pushed the door closed, dropped his pizza on the hall table and grabbed the phone. He was greeted with a voice he hadn’t heard for years.

  “I was just about to phone you,” said Seb. “But thought it unwise to call from the office, given the circumstances.”

  “The circumstances?” repeated Samantha in a gentle voice Seb could never forget.

  “I’m afraid it’s rather a long story.”

  Seb then attempted to explain what had happened to Bishara since his abortive phone call from Dulles airport, and when he finally stopped talking he still had no idea how Samantha would react.

  “Poor man. I can’t begin to imagine what he’s going through.”

  “It’s a nightmare,” said Seb. “I hope you feel I did the right thing.”

  “I would have done exactly the same,” she said. “Although I must confess I was looking forward to seeing you.”

  “I could fly back to Washington on Saturday, pick up my pictures and take you to dinner.”

  “I would suggest both of us,” said Sam. “Jessica has made a plasticine model of you and has been sticking pins into it for the past twenty-four hours.”

  “No more than I deserve. Should I speak to her, or will she hang up on me?”

  “Don’t worry. I have a feeling she’ll run out of pins.”

  * * *

  “Describe the person who was sitting next to you on the plane,” said Hammond.

  “Forty, possibly forty-five, elegant, married—”

  “How do you know she was married?”

  “She was wearing a wedding ring and an engagement ring.”

  “What does that prove?”

  “That’s she’s not available. You, for example, are recently divorced.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “There’s a thin white line on the third finger of your left hand, which you occasionally try to twist around, as if a ring were still there.”

  “What was she wearing?”

  “A tailored suit, no other jewelry except an expensive pair of diamond earrings and a Cartier Tank watch.”

  “Did you talk to her?”

  “No, her body language made it clear she didn’t want to be disturbed.”

  “Did you speak to any of the other passengers on the flight?”

  “No, I’d had a pointless and exhausting journey to Lagos and I just wanted to sleep.”

  “I’ll need the flight number and the date and time of the booking because it’s just possible she’s a regular on that route.”

  Arnold made a note.

  “It couldn’t have been her,” said Hakim with conviction.

  “Do you remember anything else about her?”

  “She was reading Watership Down and she wore glasses.”

  “Her nationality?”

  “Scandinavian. Swedish would be my guess.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “No other race on earth has such naturally fair hair.”

  “Now I want you to think carefully before you answer my next question, Mr. Bishara.” Hakim nodded. “Can you think of anyone who would benefit from your being in jail?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. A lot of people are envious of my success, but I don’t regard them as enemies.”

  “Is there anybody who would be happy to see the proposed Farthings Kaufman merger fail?”

  “Several people. But after what I’ve been through in the last few days, I’m not willing to accuse someone who, like me, might be totally innocent.”

  Arnold made another note.

  “Mr. Clifton or Mr. Kaufman, for example? Don’t forget they were at school together. One of them may see himself as the next chairman, and sooner than expected if you were safely out of the way.”

  “There’s no doubt that one of them will eventually take my place as chairman. But I can assure you, Mr. Hammond, they are both one hundred percent trustworthy and have more than proved their loyalty over the past few days. No, Mr. Hammond, you’ll have to look further afield than that.”

  “What about any other board members?”

  “They’re either too old, too busy, or well aware that they’re not up to the job.”

  Arnold Hardcastle allowed himself a smile.

  “Well, there’s someone out there who wants to see you locked up for a very long time, otherwise why take so much trouble to have you arrested for a crime you didn’t commit?”

  “But if someone like that had been on the plane, surely I would have recognized them.”

  “They wouldn’t have been on the plane,” said Hammond. “He or she would have used someone who was above suspicion, who could get on board that flight with thirteen ounces of heroin without anyone suspecting them. A stewardess perhaps, or even the pilot.”

  “But why?” said Hakim.

  “Greed or fear is usually the answer to that question, Mr. Bishara. Money is almost always the catalyst. Some debt they needed to pay, some piece of information they didn’t want revealed. Don’t worry, Mr. Bishara, I’ll find out who it