Anthony Eglin - The Blue Rose

Entering the hotel’s breakfast room – actually the dining room with different tablecloths – Alex spied Kingston seated at a corner table reading the newspaper. Alex pulled up a chair and sat down opposite him. Kingston was tapping his lower lip with the end of a pencil, eyes glued to the crossword puzzle. He had yet to acknowledge Alex’s arrival.

‘Bloody clever, that clue,’ Kingston muttered to no one in particular as he pencilled in the answer.

‘What clue?’ Alex asked.

He looked up, as if surprised to see Alex seated in front of him. ‘Oh, good morning, Alex. Sorry – this one’s a bit of a struggle,’ he said, putting the paper aside.

‘Let’s not forget to call Compton,’ said Alex.

‘I tried about fifteen minutes ago. No answer at his home number, and the machine’s on at the office. Probably sleeping in late, if he just got back from the States.’

‘I suppose it is a bit early. Let’s try again just before we leave.’

‘If we can’t reach him, we’ll just go up there. According to Emma he’s bound to show up sooner or later.’

Alex nodded. ‘Let’s hope this is the very last time we see that accursed rose. One way or another we must bring the whole business to an end today. Finished. Once and for all.’

Kingston folded the newspaper and picked up the breakfast menu. Looking over the top of it, he peered at Alex.

Alex was conscious of Kingston studying him. ‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘Looks like you didn’t get much sleep last night.’

‘I didn’t.’

‘Must say, it took me a long time to nod off. Kept thinking of that damned rose. I don’t think the lumpy mattress helped, either.’

Alex glanced at the menu for a few seconds, put it down and looked at Kingston. ‘I couldn’t get my mind off how many things could go wrong today. I must have played every possible scenario. Not once but over and over.’

Kingston’s voice took on an avuncular tone. ‘Look, Alex. We have absolutely no reason to believe that Kate isn’t okay and there’s no doubt in my mind that we’ll have her back, safe and sound, before the day’s over.’

‘I admire your confidence, Lawrence.’

‘From what he said on the phone, I think we can be certain of one thing, and that is that Wolff will bring her. Then, second, we know the rose is there, so where’s the problem? He gets the rose, we get Kate.’

Alex made an attempt at a smile. ‘I suppose you’re right. I can’t help thinking the worst, sometimes.’

The waitress arrived with a steaming carafe, poured them both coffee, and left with their orders.

Kingston took a sip and put the cup down. ‘Last night, while I was tossing and turning, I got to thinking about our conversation at the pub – about who could have killed Graham. I think I may have come up with an answer.’

‘Really?’

‘Well, it’s hypothetical of course.’

‘So, who did it, then?’

‘I think it was Tanaka.’

‘How so?’

‘What bothered me all along was that for Tanaka to be implicated he would have had to know about the journal and the formula. You and I had thought that was doubtful, remember?’

Alex nodded.

For a few seconds, Kingston stroked his chin thoughtfully, his eyes fixed on Alex. Then he spoke. ‘Here’s what I think happened.’ He held up a finger and wagged it. ‘Follow me carefully.’

Alex nodded again. He was visualizing a deerstalker hat pulled down on Kingston’s head and a curlicue pipe in his hand. ‘All right,’ he said.

Kingston lifted his chin. ‘Okay. When you faxed Stanhope’s letter to Adell he dismissed it as frivolous. I believe that was the word Kate told me he used. But at the same time – correct me if I’m wrong – you also told him about the existence of the missing journal and the crossing formula Graham claimed to have; that it was highly likely that the blue rose could be replicated.’

‘That’s right, I did.’

‘Well, stop and think for a moment what that meant to Adell. The auction is fast approaching and now, out of the blue – pardon the expression – he learns that the rose is no longer exclusive. That, in time, there could be thousands of blue roses on the market. It would really put the lid on things as far as the auction is concerned. So he had to do something to neutralize the situation, quickly. Don’t forget that Adell has a big financial stake in the auction and he can see those fat commissions evaporating.’

‘You’re right. I keep forgetting how much Adell was going to make on the sale.’

‘Exactly. It had to be a huge amount of money.’ He scratched his temple. ‘So where was I? Oh, yes. So Graham suddenly coming on the scene with the formula has an adverse cause and effect to whoever owns the real blue rose – or, putting it bluntly, it certainly reduces the rose’s value dramatically. The rose and the formula are sort of self-cancelling, if you see what I mean.’

‘I do, yes. So far, so good.’

‘Okeydokey. So Adell decides the only way out of the fix is to tell Tanaka that the rose’s value is substantially less and ownership no longer exclusive because it can be cloned – right?’

Come on, Lawrence, get to the point for God’s sake, Alex thought. He frowned, then said, ‘I think I see where you’re going with all this. He tells Tanaka – and Tanaka’s no fool. He realizes, instantly, that he must now own not only the rose but the hybridizing code too. Having one is no good without owning the other. Which is exactly what Adell hoped for.’

Kingston smiled. ‘Clever of you. But that’s not all.’

‘Really?’

‘No, there’s more. And this is pivotal. Our Mr Tanaka is very cunning. Owning either one is still acceptable – if the other is destroyed. And that’s what, I think, Tanaka decided to do. Probably he contacted Graham, telling him that he was interested in buying the formula. Then, he shows up at Graham’s house hoping to make a deal, in all probability demanding to see the missing journal containing the hybridizing code. From here on, exactly what happened is anybody’s guess. But from what we know, there was a struggle and Graham ended up dead. Thinking that he had killed Graham, Tanaka most likely got the hell out of there.’

‘Good heavens, did you figure that out last night?’

Kingston shrugged, then smiled. ‘It’s only a hypothesis, you know.’

Whether Kingston purposely avoided further conversation about Sapphire, Alex could not be sure. He seemed to be content to talk about other matters throughout breakfast. Most of what he said was lost on Alex, whose mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Kate and what they might encounter at Compton’s. He let Kingston drone on about the importance of research in botany as he concentrated on scraping the last drops of juice from his grapefruit.

Noting Alex’s indifference, Kingston took a final sip of coffee and turned to look out at the darkening sky.

‘Well, it looks like summer’s over. Ready to go?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Let’s get on with it then,’ he said, tucking The Times under his arm.

Alex shook his head. Kingston behaved more as though they were off for nine holes of golf rather than to persuade a total stranger – a rose grower, of all people – that he and his client had to give up a billion dollar, death-dealing rose, all in the name of humanity and science. Not to mention confronting a psychopathic and dangerous American, who would stop at nothing to get his hands on the same rose. Alex couldn’t help but admire Kingston.