‘I never asked.’
‘Are you going to do what he says?’
‘Killing someone is not the problem, not even you, but you’ve been a friend, done right by me.’
‘And our leader?’
‘Who is he? What is he? If he can dispense with you, then he can have me killed.’
‘What did he promise you?’ Hughenden asked. He had to admit he had gained pleasure from watching Dougal Stewart’s death, had even relished Devlin’s account of how Rodrigo Fuentes had pleaded for his life in a mix of accented English and Portuguese. He imagined that it had been him instead of O’Shaughnessy who had secured Fuentes’ ankles with a chain, the other end secured to an old anchor, and then thrown him off the side of the boat, but now it was him who was to be on the receiving end, and he did not like it.
‘He said I would take over from you.’
‘With more money than you’re getting now?’
‘I don’t trust him. If he gets me to kill you, then if he’s cornered, he’ll throw me to the wolves.’
‘Am I safe?’ Hughenden asked, slightly more relaxed than five minutes previously.
‘From me you are, but if I don’t kill you now, he’ll make sure someone else does, and he’ll also deal with me.’
‘Then I need to get out of the country as well.’
‘And leave all this,’ O’Shaughnessy said, looking around the room with its exquisite furnishings.
‘You’re right. I can’t leave. If I am to die, then it will be here surrounded by what I treasure.’
‘I still need to go.’
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘I need two hundred thousand pounds.’
‘From me?’
‘Who else?’
‘You must have earned that.’
‘I need an extra two hundred thousand pounds to see me out.’
Hughenden tensed again. He realised that his friend was desperate. ‘I need one day,’ he said.
The money was not the issue as it only meant disposing of one or two paintings, but they were important to him. He did not want to let them go, knew he could not keep them.
‘Fine. Can I stay here?’
‘If you want, but the police know this address.’
‘I’ll take my chances.’
‘The police will find you in time,’ Hughenden said.
‘Not where I’m going.’
‘And where’s that?’
‘Somewhere very remote.’
‘And warm?’
‘Maybe. I’ll make sure I have company for a few years.’
‘And then what?’
‘Cancer. It’s not apparent yet. I may last three or four years, and I intend to live it up. Slammed up in prison or floating face down in the Thames does not appeal.’
‘Steve Walters?’ Hughenden asked.
‘He’s gone up north.’
‘Is he coming back?’
‘I doubt it. It’s you and me now.’
‘And our leader.’
‘Have you met him?’ O’Shaughnessy asked.
‘Once.’
‘Do you know his name?’
‘I never asked.’
‘You must have an idea who he is.’
‘I do, but I’ve kept it to myself. I’m the only person who can connect him to what we’re doing, as well as the murders.’
‘That’s why he wants you dead. And killing Fuentes and Dougal Stewart were not good moves.
‘Fuentes can't be connected back to us.’
‘To me, you mean,’ O’Shaughnessy said.
‘To you. What about Pinto?’
‘Still frozen.’
‘You’d better dump the body.’
‘Why? No one will find it where it’s hidden.’
‘The police are smarter than you think.’
***
Two hundred yards from where the two men conversed, a group of police officers gathered. Wendy had relinquished her duty outside Hughenden’s house to a younger officer in plain clothes.
Larry addressed the group. ‘We need O’Shaughnessy,’ he said. He passed a photo around.
‘They’re still in the front room,’ Wendy said.
‘Any idea what they’re talking about?’ Larry asked.
‘We’ve not had time to conduct any monitoring.’
‘There’s no time now anyway. We want O’Shaughnessy today.’
In the group of eight assembled officers, four were heavily clad in body armour and carrying weapons. Larry and Wendy were not armed and would be standing back from the initial assault. Once the house was secured, they would enter and arrest Devlin O’Shaughnessy. Alex Hughenden would also be taken into custody as a witness.
Isaac had already outlined the plan back at Challis Street. O’Shaughnessy would be in one interview room, Hughenden in another. Two officers outside would be monitoring both interviews, listening for inconsistencies between the two men’s statements.
With the briefing completed by the side of the road, the eight police officers made their way to Hughenden’s house. Two officers would enter through the front door, two through the back. Another two would monitor in case one or both of the men attempted to jump from a window.
At the house, the two men continued to talk, unaware of the impending action. Wendy phoned the officer watching from outside. He confirmed that the time was optimum.
Two police officers rammed the rear door, breaking through on their second attempt. Another two police officers rammed the door at the front. O’Shaughnessy was known to be violent and probably armed, and ringing the doorbell would have been regarded as risky, though smashing two doors was perhaps excessive.
The two men at the rear moved quickly through the kitchen and along the hallway. The two men at the front were quickly into the room where O’Shaughnessy and Hughenden sat. Both men were on their feet, the more timid of the two in one corner.
O’Shaughnessy, full of Irish adrenaline and not willing to be captured, was shielding himself behind a sofa. ‘Come one step closer, you bastards, and I’ll let you have it,’ he said.
The police officers held back.
‘Devlin, you can’t hold out,’ Hughenden said.
‘I’ll not let them take me.’
‘Please, sir. You are surrounded,’ one of the officers said.
There’s no way I’m going to let you take me,’ O’Shaughnessy shouted.
The police officer’s instructions were to arrest, not to kill, the man who was waving a gun
