“The press will have a field day,” the Home Secretary remarked thoughtfully.
“Just promise me you never follow in his footsteps.” The PM replied.
The Home Secretary looked aghast at the idea. He was a happy family man. “His poor wife...”
“She should have left him after the first time,” the PM interjected. Then, realising the lack of sympathy he’d displayed, added rather tritely, “It’s always the innocent who suffer.”
In truth the PM was angered more by the fact he would have to change his plans. Bancroft had been pushing to bring together the various security and intelligence services under one umbrella and had been earmarked to be head of the new organization. It was an idea that appealed to the PM. He wanted some control of the spooks who seemed to think they were a law unto themselves. Now he would be back at square one, as there were few viable candidates for such a role.
“There’ll be a large cry of bring back hanging,” the Home Secretary observed. “Something like this almost makes me in favour.”
“I’ve a better idea. Let’s hope the SAS find those responsible.” Seeing the uncertain look on his Home Secretary’s face the PM added, “I’m only joking, Phillip.”
“Of course, Prime Minister,” the Home Secretary acknowledged but didn’t sound entirely convinced.
“Is there any link between this and the attempt to kidnap Melanie Adams?” the PM asked.
“Well there is the Irish connection but with no one claiming any responsibility who knows. It could be a new cell operating over here.”
The PM was already on the back foot with the economy but at least he could argue that was a global problem. Now he was going to be facing difficult questions about law and order. He couldn’t believe his bad luck. The opposition would no doubt have a field day, blaming the recent budget cutbacks as undermining security operations but they would have an even better day when they learned, as they undoubtedly would, that Bancroft was having a further affair. The PM’s credibility would be questioned for bringing him back into government, after the first time his affair had been plastered all over the front of newspapers.
“I need some concrete information,” the PM demanded. “And quickly. We can’t return to the old days of bombs going off all over the place. This could really hurt us in the polls.”
CHAPTER SIX
Tom knew there was a problem, as soon as the taxi turned into his road. A handful of people were gathered on the pavement and a couple of uniformed policemen were keeping them back from the house. He felt an instant panic brought on by the fear of the unknown. He was sure something terrible had occurred but what? The taxi slowed to a halt.
“This yours?” the driver asked concerned.
Tom handed him a ten pound note and didn’t wait for the change that was due. As he hurried from the car, heads were turned in his direction and knowing whispers exchanged. Tom knew most of them but he headed straight for the nearest policeman and introduced himself, enquiring what had happened.
“Could you come with me please, Sir,” the policeman instructed politely and turned towards the house.
“What’s happened?” Tom repeated as he followed. “Where’s my brother?”
The policeman looked long in the tooth to still be a constable and he obviously knew his place in the hierarchy. It wasn’t his job to deliver bad news and Tom realised he wasn’t going to prise anything from him.
“They’ll be able to answer all your questions inside, Sir,” the policeman smiled, patiently.
Tom imagined several different scenarios all equally disturbing as he followed the policeman through his front door. He knew with certainty that only a very serious incident would attract so many police and he offered up a silent prayer nothing had happened to Colin.
“Just wait here a moment, Sir,” the policeman instructed, once inside.
Tom felt strange standing in his own hallway, watching strangers hurrying about his home. The lack of any sign of his brother was a worry. Where was Colin? He hadn’t been outside. Why hadn’t he come to meet him?
Two men appeared from the direction of his lounge. “I’m Chief Inspector Parkin,” the older of the two men announced and shook Tom by the hand. He was about fifty years of age wearing a nondescript grey suit that didn’t quite fit around his large belly. He was bald, unshaven and Tom guessed had been called from his bed in the middle of this night. There was a look of recognition in his eyes. It was a reaction Tom had come to expect over the last couple of days.
“This is Sergeant Grant.” Parkin waved a hand in the general direction of the second man. He was much younger, probably no more than thirty, with a slim build and he stood with his hands nonchalantly in his pockets.
“Can you please tell me what’s going on?” Tom asked. “And where’s my brother?”
“I’m afraid there’s been a serious incident. Your brother has been taken to hospital, along with Mr Harding.”
Tom was confused. The questions all flowed at once. “What kind of incident? How bad is Colin hurt? And why is John Harding involved?”
“Best as we can work it out, it seems Mr Harding spotted someone sneaking around the back of your house. We learned that from his wife. He called the police and then rather foolishly came across here to see if you needed help. His wife says he brought his baseball bat with him.”
Tom listened in silent shock. John Harding lived directly across the road and ran the local neighbourhood watch scheme. Tom remembered ignoring him just the other day when he was getting in his car and said he was in too much of a hurry to speak. He felt bad about that now. John was a decent man of about sixty five who had once been in the army and retired a few years earlier. He carried out his neighbourhood watch duties with diligence and enthusiasm. On more than
