Cardini and automatically buckled himself in.
‘So, Jim,’ said Cardini, ‘I’ve been meaning to ask but I’ve hesitated.’ He leant forwards interlacing his fingers, which seemed to Jim unnaturally long. ‘I hope you don’t mind me asking you a personal question.’
‘Sure.’
‘What is the source of your immense wealth?’
‘Drugs and guns,’ said Jim. Cardini didn’t flinch. Jim laughed nervously. ‘That’s my favourite joke,’ he said apologetically.
‘One never knows about these things.’ Cardini shrugged.
‘I made my money in the markets,’ said Jim.
‘Made? Have you stopped?’
‘Yes,’ said Jim, ‘mostly. How much can a bloke want?’
‘More, is normally the answer to that question,’ said Cardini.
The stewardess was coming towards them. ‘What can I get you, gentlemen?’
Jim noted the door was already closed. ‘I’ll have a beer,’ he said.
‘Virgin Mary,’ said Cardini.
The plane was moving.
‘I’ll bring them to you, gentlemen, as soon as we get up to altitude.’
‘No vodka in your drink,’ Jim commented. ‘Is alcohol a no-no with TRT?’
‘Indeed not,’ said Cardini. ‘I just resist the temptation to put toxins into my system.’
‘So, no booze?’
‘None,’ said Cardini, in a haughty tone.
‘Well,’ said Jim, ‘not only will you live for ever, it’ll feel like eternity too.’ He tried to detect a hint of amusement in Cardini’s raised eyebrows but failed.
As the jet headed for the main runway, it suddenly occurred to Jim that it was going to be a long, boring trip. He got out his phone and texted Kate. ‘Taking off.’
27
Kate looked away from the picture on the wall. She had forgotten to set her alarm and she needed it to remind her of her appointment with Bob Renton. She didn’t want to upset anyone enjoying the calm of the lovely Fitzwilliam Museum but … Fitz meant ‘bastard’, she mused, as she switched on the ringer. Fitzwilliam meant ‘bastard of William’. She wondered whether the William was one of the old kings and, if so, which of the four. William II had been gay, she seemed to recall, which would seem to disqualify him.
So 1700 minus thirty minutes would give her half an hour to get there on time. She tapped back thirty minutes as she looked at the painting. So, the man who had founded the museum had been the illegitimate son or grandson of a king or a duke. The guy behind this amazing place would have been an outcast if his father, or grandfather, whoever, hadn’t been royalty. Instead of being a pariah he’d got to be a big cheese. What hypocrisy, she thought.
She set the alarm with a jab of her thumb and put her phone back into her handbag. She felt uncomfortable but didn’t know why. It was probably that the Victorians, the biggest humbugs of them all, would probably have refused even to acknowledge that there was one morality for the rich and another, meaner one, for the poor.
She sighed. She should let the pictures chill her out. Yet the woman on the ship heading across the sea, red scarf flying in the wind, didn’t fill Kate with calm: it filled her with dread, as if there was a storm ahead. She thought about studying some Turners, or maybe Constable, and headed off to find just the right picture to contemplate.
She wondered where Jim was and what he was doing. She wanted to tug at a strand of hair but stopped herself. The temptation would pass.
28
Cardini looked as if he was falling asleep, which was more than a little annoying to Jim, who was waiting for him to make his next move in their game of chess. It didn’t seem right to give him a shake but after several games, in which Jim had been crushed like a bug, he at last felt he was about to deliver Cardini a nasty surprise. A draw by default seemed a frustrating result. You couldn’t say you’d beaten someone at chess because they’d passed out.
Cardini’s eyes batted open and he grunted. ‘Ah, yes,’ he said, moving his black knight back and
‘So, Jim,’ said Cardini, ‘I’ve been meaning to ask but I’ve hesitated.’ He leant forwards interlacing his fingers, which seemed to Jim unnaturally long. ‘I hope you don’t mind me asking you a personal question.’
‘Sure.’
‘What is the source of your immense wealth?’
‘Drugs and guns,’ said Jim. Cardini didn’t flinch. Jim laughed nervously. ‘That’s my favourite joke,’ he said apologetically.
‘One never knows about these things.’ Cardini shrugged.
‘I made my money in the markets,’ said Jim.
‘Made? Have you stopped?’
‘Yes,’ said Jim, ‘mostly. How much can a bloke want?’
‘More, is normally the answer to that question,’ said Cardini.
The stewardess was coming towards them. ‘What can I get you, gentlemen?’
Jim noted the door was already closed. ‘I’ll have a beer,’ he said.
‘Virgin Mary,’ said Cardini.
The plane was moving.
‘I’ll bring them to you, gentlemen, as soon as we get up to altitude.’
‘No vodka in your drink,’ Jim commented. ‘Is alcohol a no-no with TRT?’
‘Indeed not,’ said Cardini. ‘I just resist the temptation to put toxins into my system.’
‘So, no booze?’
‘None,’ said Cardini, in a haughty tone.
‘Well,’ said Jim, ‘not only will you live for ever, it’ll feel like eternity too.’ He tried to detect a hint of amusement in Cardini’s raised eyebrows but failed.
As the jet headed for the main runway, it suddenly occurred to Jim that it was going to be a long, boring trip. He got out his phone and texted Kate. ‘Taking off.’
27
Kate looked away from the picture on the wall. She had forgotten to set her alarm and she needed it to remind her of her appointment with Bob Renton. She didn’t want to upset anyone enjoying the calm of the lovely Fitzwilliam Museum but … Fitz meant ‘bastard’, she mused, as she switched on the ringer. Fitzwilliam meant ‘bastard of William’. She wondered whether the William was one of the old kings and, if so, which of the four. William II had been gay, she seemed to recall, which would seem to disqualify him.
So 1700 minus thirty minutes would give her half an hour to get there on time. She tapped back thirty minutes as she looked at the painting. So, the man who had founded the museum had been the illegitimate son or grandson of a king or a duke. The guy behind this amazing place would have been an outcast if his father, or grandfather, whoever, hadn’t been royalty. Instead of being a pariah he’d got to be a big cheese. What hypocrisy, she thought.
She set the alarm with a jab of her thumb and put her phone back into her handbag. She felt uncomfortable but didn’t know why. It was probably that the Victorians, the biggest humbugs of them all, would probably have refused even to acknowledge that there was one morality for the rich and another, meaner one, for the poor.
She sighed. She should let the pictures chill her out. Yet the woman on the ship heading across the sea, red scarf flying in the wind, didn’t fill Kate with calm: it filled her with dread, as if there was a storm ahead. She thought about studying some Turners, or maybe Constable, and headed off to find just the right picture to contemplate.
She wondered where Jim was and what he was doing. She wanted to tug at a strand of hair but stopped herself. The temptation would pass.
28
Cardini looked as if he was falling asleep, which was more than a little annoying to Jim, who was waiting for him to make his next move in their game of chess. It didn’t seem right to give him a shake but after several games, in which Jim had been crushed like a bug, he at last felt he was about to deliver Cardini a nasty surprise. A draw by default seemed a frustrating result. You couldn’t say you’d beaten someone at chess because they’d passed out.
Cardini’s eyes batted open and he grunted. ‘Ah, yes,’ he said, moving his black knight back and
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