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Townsend shrugged.

  “I’m beginning to wonder if Mrs. Sherwood wasn’t sitting on board waiting for us, rather than the other way round.”

  “Don’t be silly,” said Townsend. “After all, she’s going to have to decide if it’s more important to get her book published, or to fall out with Alexander, who’s been advising her to sell to Armstrong. And if that’s the choice she has to make, there’s one thing in our favor.”

  “And what’s that?” asked Kate.

  “Thanks to Sally, we know exactly how many rejection slips she’s had from publishers over the past ten years. And having read the book, I can’t imagine any of them gave her much cause for hope.”

  “Surely Armstrong is also aware of that, and would be just as willing to publish her book?”

  “But she can’t be sure of that,” said Townsend.

  “Perhaps she can, and is far brighter than we gave her credit for. Is there a phone on board?”

  “Yes, there’s one on the bridge. I tried to place a call to Tom Spencer in New York so that he could start amending the contract, but I was told the phone can’t be used unless it’s an emergency.”

  “And who decides what’s an emergency?” asked Kate.

  “The purser says the captain is the sole arbiter.”

  “Then neither of us can do anything until we reach New York.”

  Mrs. Sherwood arrived late for lunch, and took the seat next to the general. She seemed content to listen to a lengthy summary of chapter three of his memoirs, and never once raised the subject of her own book. After lunch she disappeared back into her cabin.

  When they took their places at dinner, they found that Mrs. Sherwood had been invited to sit at the captain’s table.

  After a sleepless night Keith and Kate arrived early at breakfast, hoping to learn her decision. But as the minutes passed and Mrs. Sherwood failed to appear, it became clear that she must be taking breakfast in her suite.

  “Probably fallen behind with her packing,” suggested the ever helpful Dr. Percival.

  Kate didn’t look convinced.

  Keith returned to his cabin, packed his suitcase and then joined Kate on deck as the liner steamed toward the Hudson.

  “I have a feeling we’ve lost this one,” said Kate, as they sailed past the Statue of Liberty.

  “I think you might be right. I wouldn’t mind so much if it weren’t at the hands of Armstrong again.”

  “Has beating him become that important?”

  “Yes, it has. What you have to understand is…”

  “Good morning, Mr. Townsend,” said a voice behind them. Keith swung round to see Mrs. Sherwood approaching. He hoped she hadn’t spotted Kate before she melted into the crowd.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Sherwood,” he replied.

  “After some considerable thought,” she said, “I have come to a decision.”

  Keith held his breath.

  “If you have both contracts ready for me to sign by ten o’clock tomorrow morning, then you have, to use that vulgar American expression, ‘got yourself a deal.’”

  Keith beamed at her.

  “However,” she continued, “if my book isn’t published within a year of signing the contract, you will have to pay a penalty of one million dollars. And if it fails to get on the New York Times best-seller list, you will forfeit a second million.”

  “But…”

  “You did say when I asked you about the best-seller list that you would be willing to bet on it, didn’t you, Mr. Townsend? So I’m going to give you a chance to do just that.”

  “But…” repeated Keith.

  “I look forward to seeing you at my apartment at ten tomorrow morning, Mr. Townsend. My lawyer has confirmed that he will be able to attend. Should you fail to turn up, I shall simply sign the contract with Mr. Armstrong at eleven.” She paused and, looking straight at Keith, said, “I have a feeling he would also be willing to publish my novel.”

  Without another word she began walking toward the passenger ramp. Kate joined him at the railing and they watched her slow descent. As she stepped onto the quay, two black Rolls-Royces swept up, and a chauffeur leapt out of the first one to open the back door for her. The second stood waiting for her luggage.

  “How did she manage to speak to her lawyer?” said Keith. “Calling him about her novel could hardly be described as an emergency.”

  Just before she stepped into the car, Mrs. Sherwood looked up and waved to someone. They both turned and stared in the direction of the bridge.

  The captain was saluting.

  26.

  Daily Mail

  10 June 1967

  END OF SIX-DAY WAR: NASSER QUITS

  Armstrong double-checked the flight times for New York. He then looked up Mrs. Sherwood’s address in the Manhattan telephone directory, and even phoned the Pierre to be sure the Presidential Suite had been booked. This was one meeting he couldn’t afford to be late for, and for which he couldn’t turn up on the wrong day or at the wrong address.

  He had already deposited $20 million at the Manhattan Bank, gone over the press statement with his public relations adviser and warned Peter Wakeham to prepare the board for a special announcement.

  Alexander Sherwood had phoned the previous evening to say that he had called his sister-in-law before she went on her annual cruise. She had confirmed that the agreed figure was $20 million, and was looking forward to meeting Armstrong at eleven o’clock at her apartment on the day after her return. By the time he and Sharon stepped onto the plane, Armstrong was confident that within twenty-four hours he would be the sole proprietor of a national newspaper second only in circulation to the Daily Citizen.

  They touched down at Idlewild a few hours before the Queen Elizabeth was due to dock at Pier 90. After they had checked into the Pierre, Armstrong walked across to 63rd Street to be sure he knew exactly where Mrs. Sherwood lived. For $10 the doorman confirmed that she was expected back later that day.

  Over dinner in the hotel that night he and Sharon hardly spoke. He was beginning to wonder why he had bothered to bring her along. She was in bed long before he headed for the bathroom, and asleep by the time he came out.

  As he climbed into bed, he tried to think what could possibly go wrong between now and eleven o’clock the next morning.

  * * *

  “I think she knew what we were up to all along,” said Kate as she watched Mrs. Sherwood’s Rolls disappear out of sight.

  “She can’t have,” said Townsend. “But even if she did, she still accepted the terms I wanted.”

  “Or was it the terms she wanted?” said Kate quietly.

  “What are you getting at?”

  “Just that it was all a little bit too easy for my liking. Don’t forget, she’s not a Sherwood. She was just clever enough to marry one.”

  “You’ve become too suspicious for your own good,” said Townsend. “Try not to forget, she isn’t Richard Armstrong.”

  “I’ll only be convinced when you have her signature on both contracts.”

  “Both?”

  “She won’t part with her third of the Globe unless she really believes you’re going to publish her novel.”

  “I don’t think there’ll be any problem convincing her of that,” said Townsend. “We mustn’t forget that she’s desperate—she had fifteen rejection slips before she bumped into me.”

  “Or did she see you coming?”

  Townsend looked down to the quayside as a black stretch limousine pulled up by the gangplank. A tall, thickset man with a head of unruly black hair jumped out of the back and looked up toward the passengers standing on the deck. “Tom Spencer’s just arrived,” said Townsend. He turned back to Kate. “Stop worrying. By the time you’re back in Sydney, I’ll own 33.3 percent of the Globe. And I couldn’t have done it without you. Call me the moment you land at Kingsford-Smith, and I’ll bring you up to date.” Townsend gave her a kiss and held her in his arms before they returned to their separate cabins.