Seb heard a commotion behind him and swung, around to see what was going on. He immediately knew that he’d made the wrong decision and should have kept on walking. His fifth mistake. He stood, mesmerized, as Ghuman’s two bodyguards charged toward them. How could they have got there so quickly? Of course, Ghuman had a private jet—something else the High Commissioner had warned him about. Seb was surprised how calm he felt, even when one of them pulled out a gun and pointed it directly at him.

“Drop that gun and get on your knees!” shouted one of the policemen. The crowd scattered in every direction, leaving the six of them stranded in their own no-man’s land. Seb realized that the police had always been on his side. Barrington v. Ghuman—no contest. One of Ghuman’s guards immediately fell to his knees and slid his gun across the floor toward the two policemen. The other thug, the one who’d failed to dislodge Priya from the motorbike, ignored the order, never taking his eyes off his quarry.

“Move away, black swan,” said Seb firmly, pushing Priya to one side. “It’s not you he’s after.”

“Put down your weapon and get on your knees or I will fire,” said one of the policemen standing behind them.

But the man didn’t lower his gun and didn’t fall on his knees. He squeezed the trigger.

Seb felt the bullet hit him. As he stumbled back, Priya shouted, “No!” and threw herself between Seb and the gunman. The second bullet killed her instantly.

Lady Virginia Fenwick: 1972

LADY VIRGINIA FENWICK

1972

Chapter 22

22

WHEN THE MONEY began to dry up, Virginia wondered if she could return to the same watering hole a second time.

Without informing her father, she had employed a new butler and housekeeper and returned to her old way of life. £14,000 might have seemed like a lot of money at the time, but that was before she checked her recent dress account, spent a month at the Excelsior Hotel in Tenerife with a totally unsuitable young man, made a foolish loan to Bofie that she knew he’d never repay and backed a string of fillies at Ascot that never had any intention of entering the winners’ enclosure. She had refused to place a bet on Noble Conquest for the King George VI and Queen Elizabeth Stakes, and then watched her romp home at 3/1. Her owner, Cyrus T. Grant III, was inexplicably absent, so Her Majesty presented the cup to his trainer.