'Please leave us, Sir Nicholas,' Walsh pleaded.
An hour later Nicholas sauntered back into the conference room. The
three men were seated around the table as though they could not bear to
be parted from the two great crowns. Walsh nodded at his minions and
they stood up and obediently but reluctantly filed from the room.
As soon as the door closed, Walsh asked brusquely, 'How much?'
'Fifteen million US dollars,'Nicholas replied.
'That's seven and a half mill each.'
'No, that's fifteen mill each. Thirty million the two'.
Walsh reeled in his chair. 'Are you crazy, or something?'
'There are those who think so,'Nicholas smiled.
'Split the difference,' said Walsh. 'Twenty-two and a half.'
Nicholas shook his head. 'Not negotiable.'
'Be reasonable, Harper!' 'Reasonability has never been one of my vices.
Sorry Walsh stood up. 'I am sorry too. Perhaps next time, Harper.'
He clasped his hands behind his back and stalked to the door. As he
opened it, Nicholas called after him.
'Mr Walsh!'
He turned back eagerly. 'Yes?'
'Next time you may call me Nicholas, and I shall call you Peter, as old
friends.'
'Is that all you have to say?'
'Of course. What else is there?' Nicholas looked puzzled.
'Damn you,' said Walsh, and came back to the table.
He dropped into his chair. 'Damn you to hell and back!' He sighed and
pursed his lips, and then asked, 'Okay.
How do you want it?'
'Two irrevocable bank drafts. Each for fifteen million.' Walsh picked up
the intercom, and spoke into it.
'Please ask Monsieur Montfleuri, your chief accountant, to come up here'
he ordered dolefully.
Nicholas sat at his desk in his study at Quenton Park. He stared at the
panelling that covered the wall facing him. Although the panelling had
originally come from one of the Catholic abbeys dissolved by Henry VIII
in 1536 and had been bought by his grandfather almost a hundred years
ago, it was newly installed in this setting.
He reached under the top of his desk and pressed the hidden button of
the electronic control. A section of the panelling slid smoothly and
silently aside to reveal the armoured plate glass of the display cabinet
built into the wall behind it. At the same time the spotlights in the
ceiling lit automatically, and their beams fell on the contents of the
cabinet. The spots had been placed so that there was no reflection from
the glass window to distract the eye, and the beams brought out the full
glory of the double crown and the golden death-mask of Mamose.
He poured whisky into a crystal glass, and while he sipped it he
savoured the thrill of ownership. But after a while he knew there was
something missing. He picked up the Taita ushabd from the desk in front
of him, and spoke to it as though he were addressing the subject
himself.
'You knew the real meaning of loneliness, didn't you?' he asked softly.
