The Case of the Black Pearl (28 page)

A suited man sat on the leather sofa, a whisky glass on the coffee table alongside the bottle of Islay malt. It was a face Patrick had hoped never to have to look on again.

‘Ah, Courvoisier. You surface at last.’ The voice was clipped and confident to the point of arrogance.

‘What do you want?’ Patrick said coldly.

‘You did not answer our invitation,’ the voice said in mild surprise.

‘I tore it up.’

The thin face narrowed even further, the lips a mere line.

‘That is unfortunate. We wish you to accept.’

‘You mean you order me to.’

‘I would not presume …’

Patrick cut him off. ‘I do not intend to return for any reason.’

His visitor looked nonplussed, but only for a brief moment. ‘I understand you’ve got into some local difficulty. A Russian national, killed on a yacht with a UK-SFK knife, which, I believe, belongs to us.’ He raised an enquiring eyebrow.

Patrick thought back to his recent meeting with Moreaux. Was this how Moreaux planned to remove Patrick from his patch?

He held open the cabin door. ‘I’d like you to leave. Now.’

Oscar, hearing his tone, growled menacingly and bared his teeth.

His visitor rose, nodded and exited, with the final words: ‘We will expect you at the Garden Party on the twenty-fifth of June. Come to the diplomatic tent at two p.m.’