‘And what was that, superwoman?’ asked William, wrapping his arms around all three of them.
‘We’ve already had a serious discussion about names,’ said Beth, handing one of the babies to William.
‘And what names did the three of you decide in my absence?’
‘For your son, we settled on Peter Paul.’
‘Rubens,’ said William. ‘I approve. But will he be an artist or a diplomat?’
‘As long as he’s not a policeman, I don’t care.’
‘And his sister?’
‘Artemisia.’
‘Gentileschi? A genius, way ahead of her time.’
‘And more important, she had a father who acknowledged her talents, and encouraged her to use them. So beware.’
‘Hello, Artemisia,’ William whispered, stroking her nose.
‘Good try, but that’s Peter Paul, who’s keen to know if you’ve given any more thought to applying for the job at the Fitzmolean? Applications close at the end of the week, the director reminded me.’
‘You can tell Tim I’ve been giving the idea some serious thought recently,’ said William quietly.
A puzzled look appeared on Beth’s face. ‘Why recently?’
‘We’ve got a bent copper on our team, and one of us will have to go.’
‘But why should it be you? You haven’t done anything wrong.’
‘Because I’m not willing to turn a blind eye, and that’s what I’d have to do if I decided to remain on the force.’
‘How sad,’ said Beth, almost to herself.
‘I thought you’d be delighted to learn that I’m thinking about packing it in.’
‘I am. But I wouldn’t want to wake up every morning with a disgruntled caveman beside me, especially now the press are saying you’re in line to become the youngest detective inspector in the Met’s history!’
‘But at what price?’
‘Perhaps you should talk it over with your father before you come to a decision you’ll later regret.’
‘Almost his exact words. But I can’t think of anything that would make me change my mind.’
Artemisia began to cry, quickly followed by Peter Paul.
‘They’re clearly going to work in tandem to attract our attention,’ said Beth.
She and William handed the twins to the midwife, who quickly calmed them down before placing them gently in their cots. ‘Perhaps it’s time for your wife to rest,’ she suggested before leaving the room.
‘But not before we’ve checked to see if you’re already yesterday’s news,’ said Beth, flicking on the television to see a red double-decker bus disappearing off one side of the screen.
‘Well, I guess that’s the last we’re going to see of you,’ she sighed. She was about to switch off the television when the newsreader said, ‘Some breaking news has just come in. A prisoner has escaped from Pentonville jail.’
Miles Faulkner’s face filled the screen.
ALSO BY JEFFREY ARCHER
THE WILLIAM WARWICK NOVELS
Nothing Ventured
THE CLIFTON CHRONICLES
Only Time Will Tell The Sins of the Father
Best Kept Secret Be Careful What You Wish For
Mightier than the Sword Cometh the Hour This Was a Man
NOVELS
Not a Penny More, Not a Penny Less
Shall We Tell the President? Kane and Abel
The Prodigal Daughter First Among Equals
A Matter of Honour As the Crow Flies Honour Among Thieves
The Fourth Estate The Eleventh Commandment
Sons of Fortune False Impression
The Gospel According to Judas
(with the assistance of Professor Francis J. Moloney)
A Prisoner of Birth Paths of Glory Heads You Win
SHORT STORIES
A Quiver Full of Arrows A Twist in the Tale
Twelve Red Herrings The Collected Short Stories
To Cut a Long Story Short Cat O’ Nine Tales
And Thereby Hangs a Tale Tell Tale
The Short, the Long and the Tall
PLAYS
Beyond Reasonable Doubt Exclusive The Accused
Confession Who Killed the Mayor?
PRISON DIARIES
Volume One – Belmarsh: Hell
Volume Two – Wayland: Purgatory
Volume Three – North Sea Camp: Heaven
SCREENPLAYS
Mallory: Walking Off the Map False Impression
First published 2020 by Macmillan
This electronic edition published 2020 by Macmillan
an imprint of Pan Macmillan
The Smithson, 6 Briset Street, London EC1M 5NR
Associated companies throughout the world
www.panmacmillan.com
ISBN 978-1-5098-5135-5
Copyright © Jeffrey Archer 2020
Cover images: background: © Michael Lidgley; male figure: © Arcangel Images;
female figure: © Mark Owen/Trevillion Images.
The right of Jeffrey Archer to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
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