Chapter Nine
Constable Suarez took them past the marina at Puerto Banus. Fabulous yachts hugged the moorings, five and more abreast, their lights making a festive backdrop to the many restaurants.
You could certainly eat like a king, thought Rafferty as they rode round the sights, though you’d have to be one to stand the prices; Italian, Chinese, authentic Spanish, whatever the stomach desired could be enjoyed here. But whatever it did for the stomach, he noted with dismay that it had even more effect on Llewellyn’s tendency to lecture.
‘The marina can hold nine hundred yachts. Even the King of Saudi Arabia is reputed to have a mooring here.’
‘Remind me to drop my card off.’
‘The town was only built in the 1970’s. The architect who designed it, Jose Banus, and after whom it is named,
