Isaac gave little credence to the man’s protestations. He knew Hughenden was guilty. Len Donaldson was in the office, excited that there was progress.
Wendy had left Bayswater and returned to Challis Street. Larry did not intend to come back until the police had their man, which according to Freestone shouldn’t be too long, as O’Shaughnessy was starting to fall asleep.
Larry understood how he felt. He had drunk four pints with Rasta Joe, and he was feeling the after-effects. At least, by the time he got home, they would have worn off, and his wife would be pleasant, although when that would be was unclear. With both O’Shaughnessy and Hughenden in the police station, it was bound to be the following morning before he arrived home, probably after daylight, but he would be able to take the children to school.
Inside the house, O’Shaughnessy’s eyes were closing. Freestone made a tentative move forward, only to watch the man wake up with a start.
‘I’m going to lose my bet,’ Freestone said.
‘You’ll not take me.’
‘You’ll not last three. I give you another fifteen minutes.’
‘Not a chance.’ O’Shaughnessy attempted to move his legs, but one was cramping. His throat was parched after drinking two beers before, and his stomach was aching. Freestone watched as he attempted to stretch and to force his eyes open.
‘Ten minutes.’ The instruction was relayed to the team at the front and rear of the house.
Within five minutes, the man behind the sofa was asleep. ‘Now,’ Freestone commanded.
From both doors into the room, the police entered. The man who was never going to give in was arrested with barely a murmur. His hands were pulled behind his back, the handcuffs applied. The gun was placed in a plastic evidence bag.
Freestone, pleased that the arrest was successful, would deal with the paperwork the next day. However, Larry did not have such a luxury. O’Shaughnessy was bundled out of the house and into the back of a waiting police van. Larry phoned ahead; Isaac would be ready on their arrival.
Chapter 15
The pact that had served all the four Old Etonians for so long was unravelling, and they were meeting for the second time in as many weeks. The fourth man, the acknowledged leader of the group was neither a politician or a businessman or an aristocrat. His friends knew that well enough when they had joined with him in his latest criminal venture.
He had brought them in when he needed them, ensured they were well compensated. He had respected their wishes not to be involved, other than to supply the necessary cash in the early days and to reap the financial rewards later on, and now, when it was becoming precarious, they were ready to isolate him.
‘What you wanted was all the profit, none of the risks,’ the fourth man said.
‘That was what we agreed to,’ Griffiths said.
‘The agreement’s changed. If I go down, so do you three.’
‘That was never the agreement,’ Allerton reminded him.
‘Where does it say that in writing?’ demanded the fourth man, angry that his fair-weather friends were willing to sacrifice him.
‘You know there’s nothing in writing,’ Fortescue said.
‘That’s because we trusted each other. You’re only interested in protecting yourselves.’
‘And what’s wrong with that?’ Allerton asked.
The fourth man stood to one side of the other three. He was a good-looking man who had taken care of himself, not like Miles Fortescue with his safe electorate, Jacob Griffiths with his supermarkets, and certainly not like that upper-class snob Lord Allerton, with his stately home and his seat in the House of Lords. The fourth man knew why he had been at Eton: his parents had worked incredibly hard, and he had received a partial scholarship due to his academic brilliance. Also, as the son of a cousin of Allerton’s father, he was blue-blooded enough for the prestigious Eton College.
‘Is that a threat?’ Fortescue asked.
‘Take it whichever way you like. I’ll take you three sanctimonious bastards with me.’
Allerton sat up, Fortescue adopted an expression of disbelief. Griffiths, a tough man who had dealt with equally tough men in trade, felt the need to respond. ‘Are you certain you want to take us on?’ he asked.
‘If I must. I’ve put at least thirty million pounds into each of your pockets, and now it’s getting dangerous, you’re willing to pull out.’
‘I don’t think anyone mentioned our pulling out. We’re still a team,’ Griffiths said, although he had enough money now and the risk was too high, he knew that. He did not fancy the idea of a prison cell any more than the others.
Fortescue nodded his head in agreement, although the politician recognised a serious threat. Allerton sat mute, hoping only that the nightmare would go away.
‘That’s good,’ the fourth man said. ‘However, there’s a problem.’
‘More deaths?’ Griffiths asked.
‘The money you made came at a cost.’
‘But murder?’ Allerton asked, resigning himself to the situation.
‘There is one person who can threaten us.’
‘Don’t you mean you?’ Fortescue said.
‘I thought we were clear on this matter. If I go down, so do you three.’
‘Not if we deal with you first.’
‘Fortescue, if your threats are as impotent as you and your parliamentary career are, then I’ve got nothing to worry about.’
‘We could expose you, strike a deal with the police,’ Fortescue said, aiming to secure a way out, knowing full well that any deal would result in their facing charges. The ‘impotent’ jibe had struck home. He had been married for nearly thirty years, and no children had
