5 Land’s End
Land’s End
Gabriel pulled on a pair of Wellington boots and led Edward Knight across the flower-strewn meadow to the Coast Path. After
a moment’s deliberation they headed north, past the National Coastwatch Institution observation point, around a pair of rocky
coves, toward Land’s End. Knight, seemingly oblivious to the beauty of his surroundings, was describing a piece of real estate,
a lavish home on the northern coast of Ibiza, a finca in the lexicon of the island, rentable for the princely sum of two hundred and fifty thousand euros a week during the summer
high season. He had arranged for his wife and three old friends from Cambridge to stay at the property the previous week.
It was, he explained, something of an annual ritual.
“They were supposed to return in time for Alice to attend the fundraiser. But around eleven o’clock on Saturday morning, the
pilot of my private plane informed me that Alice and her friends had not yet arrived at the airport. To be perfectly honest,
I wasn’t terribly alarmed. Alice has many admirable qualities, but punctuality isn’t one of them.”
“You rang her, I assume?”
“Yes, of course.”
“And?”
The call went straight to voicemail, so Knight phoned one of the three women who had accompanied Alice to Ibiza, a lawyer
named Sophie Maxwell who practiced at the same Magic Circle firm that represented Knight’s company. Sophie informed him that
she had not seen or heard from Alice since late the previous morning.
“Why didn’t she tell you earlier?”
“You’re a man of the world, Allon. Do I really need to explain why one of Alice’s oldest and closest friends might have neglected
to tell me that my wife had failed to return to her rented villa on Ibiza the previous evening?”
“She suspected that Alice was with another man?”
Knight made no reply.
“Is it possible?”
“That beautiful Alice has run off with her dashing young lover? I rather doubt it.”
“Does she have one?”
“Rumors about affairs have surfaced in the less reputable press from time to time, but Alice has always denied it.”
“Do you believe her?”
“Not entirely.”
“But you’ve never pursued the matter?”
He batted away the suggestion. “I’m a busy man, Allon.”
It was not quite a denial. “What happened next?” asked Gabriel.
“I instructed Sophie Maxwell to telephone the Spanish authorities. Evidently they weren’t terribly concerned either. It won’t
surprise you to learn that British tourists aren’t always on their best behavior when they visit Ibiza.”
“But your wife is no ordinary tourist.”
“I made that point when I rang the commissioner of the Policía Nacional. He assured me that he would commence an island-wide search for Alice at once. He rang me with the results while I was having dinner with you and your wife at the fundraiser.”
“There was no sign of her?”
“Not a trace. With the exception of her rental car,” added Knight. “The police found it at the bottom of a ravine about three
kilometers from the villa. I slipped out of Wickham House during your interview with Ms. Bancroft and flew to Ibiza that very
night.”
He remained on the island, he continued, for the next seventy-two hours, monitoring the search for his wife. At Knight’s insistence
it was conducted with discretion, with no statements to the press or requests for assistance from the public. It turned up
nothing other than a single Hermès sandal, which was found lying on the beach of a small cove.
“Who confirmed the sandal was Alice’s?”
“It was Ella Burns.”
“And what does Ella do?”
“She works for HSBC.”
“And the fourth member of the party?”
“Phoebe Chadwick.”
“Banker or barrister?” asked Gabriel.
“International relief worker. She left Ibiza the day before Alice’s disappearance and returned to London on a commercial flight.”
“Any particular reason?”
“Apparently she and Alice had a row for the ages at dinner one evening.”
“About what?”
“Alice has millions of followers on social media, and she tends to them assiduously. Phoebe disapproves. She’s not terribly
fond of me either,” said Knight. “But that is neither here nor there.”
The footpath bore them up the slope of a gentle rise to the Land’s End Hotel. Knight announced that he was in need of refreshment, so they went inside and were seated at a window table in the restaurant. Gabriel, a regular patron of the establishment, ordered the Cornish cream tea for two.
“How very English of you,” remarked Knight.
“When in Rome.”
Knight smiled in spite of himself. “I suppose you’re wondering what any of this has to do with you.”
“The thought crossed my mind.”
“The Spanish authorities are at a loss to explain my wife’s disappearance. Frankly they strike me as totally incompetent.”
“In my experience they’re rather good at what they do.”
“You operated in Spain in your previous life?”
“Next question, Mr. Knight.”
“I was wondering,” he said, “whether you might agree to serve as my representative in this matter.”
“Representative?”
“Adviser, consultant, specialist—you choose the word, Allon.”
“How about hired gun?”
“That’s two words,” said Knight. “And I’m hoping a gun won’t be necessary.”
“If you want my advice, you should allow the Spanish police to go public.”
“Can you imagine the spectacle? Alice’s disappearance would become an international sensation. In my opinion this matter needs
to be handled quietly by an experienced professional.” Knight paused, then added, “Someone like you.”
“Surely you have a security consultant on your payroll.”
“I use a firm in Mayfair. It’s quite small, very exclusive. Most of its employees are former MI5 and SAS officers. They provide
me with bodyguards when I require them and conduct discreet inquiries on my behalf.”
“And what did your exclusive Mayfair security firm have to say about me?”
“I didn’t bother with a background check, Allon. Your reputation precedes you.”
“If that were the case, you wouldn’t have bothered to come all the way to Cornwall.”
A look of desperation appeared on Edward Knight’s face. “I came here because I have nowhere else to turn. Will you at least
travel to Ibiza and have a look around? I’ll make it well worth your while.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“I suppose there’s a first time for everything, after all.” The waitress appeared with their order. Knight added milk to his
tea and gave it a single violent stir. “As you might imagine, I’m not used to hearing the word no.”
“I haven’t actually uttered it yet.”
Knight laid the spoon upon his saucer.
“I assume the Spanish police have attempted to locate Alice’s mobile phone.”
“Without success,” replied Knight.
“What about her credit cards?”
“There’s been no activity since last Friday afternoon.”
“Anything unusual?”
“She made a five-hundred-euro purchase at the Louis Vuitton boutique near the marina.”
“I didn’t realize it was possible to spend only five hundred euros at Louis Vuitton.”
“It was a cotton ballcap.”
“And the police are certain that Alice was the one who purchased it?”
Knight nodded. “I’ve seen the surveillance video. After leaving the boutique, she walked to a nearby ATM machine and withdrew
two thousand euros in cash.”
“That’s a rather large sum of money.”
“Not where Alice is concerned.”
“It might well explain why she’s missing.”
“A robbery gone wrong? The police put forward the same theory.”
“Was she wearing jewelry?”
“A wristwatch, rings, bracelets, and a necklace, all extremely valuable. Even so, she would have handed over everything to
a thief without a second thought.”
“No sentimental value?”
“Alice isn’t the sentimental type.”
Edward Knight didn’t strike Gabriel as the sentimental type either. “You can’t keep her disappearance a secret forever. Someone
is bound to notice she’s missing.”
“All the more reason I would like you to leave for Ibiza as soon as possible. But don’t worry about your travel arrangements.
My personal assistant will see to everything. Liam Higgins is his name. You might have noticed him at dinner the other night.”
“I’m sorry,” said Gabriel, “but I haven’t the time. I promised Julian that I would finish the Bellotto by the end of the summer.”
Knight produced his phone and dialed. It took four attempts before the call finally went through. “Good afternoon, Ms. Bancroft.
Edward Knight here. Listen, I just had a look at the Bellotto, and I absolutely must have it. How does twenty million sound?”
The connection failed before Sarah could reply. Knight put away his phone with a frown. “The cell service is dreadful out
here. How do you possibly manage?”
Gabriel contemplated the blue sea. “Just fine, Mr. Knight.”