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I’ve learnt the hard way
that verbal instructions have their weaknesses. This enables me to keep track
of my decisions on the move.’
    I thought of the instructions I gave my own staff, in
e-mails and scribbled post-it notes. Wilson’s modus operandi was that of a man
not used to relinquishing control lightly. Pandemonium would ensue if he lost
his diary. Perhaps he slept with it under his pillow.
    ‘A pretty tartan, don’t you think?’ he said. ‘I’m having a
kilt made.’ He returned the diary to his carry-on bag and delved about inside,
producing a bottle of pills.
    I glanced quickly across the aisle. Harry was gripping the
arms of his seat, staring straight ahead, the veins in his neck swollen. I felt
a pang of guilt. Neither Liz nor I had reminded him to take his medication.
    Wilson threw his head back sharply and swallowed several
pills in one gulp.
    ‘Do you have a fear of flying?’ I said.
    ‘Health is a real pain in the ass, Maggie,’ he said,
side-stepping my question. He replaced the bottle in his carry-on, but not
before I’d had a good look at the label. ‘My doctors have instructed me to
watch everything I do,’ he continued. ‘I’m not supposed to exert myself, I’ve
been put on a special diet, and I’ve been told to cut down on drinking and
smoking.’
    I watched him swallow his scotch, remembering the fat cigar
at the airport.
    He caught me looking. ‘Cut down, but not cut out.’ He smiled
disarmingly. ‘If the bastards had said cut out, I’d be searching for better
doctors.’
    He was so sure of himself, I decided to end the pretence.
‘Mr Bibby, you may not be aware you upset my friend at the airport,’ I said as
politely as I could. ‘I can understand it must be annoying to be constantly
approached, but Harry wa s hurt. He was trying to
thank you for funding his research.’
    Wilson stiffened. The smile vanished and a glittery look
came into his eyes. He was like a snake, sizing up its victim, waiting for the
moment to strike. The heavy-lidded reptile eyes moved across my face. My
breathing quickened. This was not a man to cross.
    ‘He was your friend?’ He smiled thinly. ‘Well, he should
know better than to creep up on people.’
    I was disappointed he’d mistaken my tone. But Harry had
deserved better. ‘That’s still no reason to behave the way you did,’ I said
hotly. I knew how it would sound, but I couldn’t stop myself. ‘What happened to
the manners the South is so famous for?’
    I’d touched a nerve. The snake’s eyes vanished and, for an
instant, he looked bewildered.
    But he recovered his composure quickly. ‘I admit I may have
been rude to your friend. But there’s something I’m sure you’ll appreciate,
young lady.’ He brought his face closer to mine. ‘A man like myself will always
be on the defensive when approached by strangers, even in public places.’
    ‘You’re not travelling with a bodyguard.’ It was a stupid
remark, I realised, after I’d said it.
    His reply stunned me with its candour. ‘Back home, I have
several. On vacation, my son Marcellus acts as my bodyguard. He’s a martial
arts expert.’ He said it with a comfortable insolence, as though this single
fact was a guarantee of his safety.
    I glanced across the aisle. Marcellus had removed his
sweatshirt, revealing an army-green singlet stretched tightly across his chest.
His arms were like tree trunks, the veins bulging.
    ‘I understand your son works for your Foundation,’ I said,
my eyes on Marcellus.
    Wilson seemed unsurprised by the remark. ‘He manages our New
York office. Of course, I see less of him than I’d like, but we take our
vacations together. We travel incognito, even though it means we have to drop
our standards now and again.’
    I studied Marcellus’s clothes. They were more suited to a
holiday in the Bahamas.
    Wilson must have read my expression. ‘The main problem is
agreeing the location. You see, unlike myself, Marcellus is a sun-worshipper.
He