After the woman had bled him for a few more weeks, he had wished her well and left her to her own devices. His parliamentary career had been the same. Initially, he had tried, and had stood up in Parliament on a few occasions to take part in a debate, but each time his arguments had fallen short, and the last time he had made a fool of himself by stuttering. The Speaker had had to tell him to spit it out and then sit down. After that, he attended when his vote was needed, but apart from that he did not impact on the regular business of Parliament.
‘Strike a deal with the police! With what? The three of you aren’t smart enough, and besides you’re all guilty. It won’t take much for me to send them a complete dossier of your activities either. Mind you, I’ll make sure I’m out of the country before then,’ Allerton’s cousin said.
Jacob Griffiths, the most successful financially of the three, knew the man was correct. The man was a bona fide genius, as well as the organising force behind the most audacious drug trafficking syndicate in England. Jacob Griffiths had to admire the man even if he was a criminal who was willing to murder. Griffiths knew that he had been tough in business, bankrupted a few, one had committed suicide, but to give the order for someone to be killed – he knew he could not do that.
Allerton, unsure how to proceed, spoke. ‘We’re doomed whatever happens.’
‘Rubbish. That’s defeatist nonsense. I’ll get us out of this. Once the loose ends are wrapped up, we’ll close the business. I’ve got a few other ideas,’ the fourth man said.
‘How long?’ Fortescue asked.
‘Three weeks and then we’re out of the drug business.’
Allerton sat back in his chair, hopeful that the nightmare was concluding. He had enough money now to live the life he wanted, as did the others.
Griffiths was not so sure; he needed proof. ‘Why three weeks?’
‘There’s a shipment coming over, the biggest so far.’
‘You can stop it.’
‘With the people I’m dealing with, not a chance. Either we accept the shipment and pay them in full, or they’ll come looking for us.’
‘You,’ Allerton said.
‘Us. Do you think I’ve not put a contingency plan in place in case you lily-livered cowards chicken out?’
‘What right have you to talk to us like that?’ Fortescue bellowed.
‘Sit down and shut up. The same as you always do in Westminster.’
Fortescue, red in the face, did as he was ordered.
Griffiths, the savviest of the three, still needed details. ‘Lay out your plan.’
‘Very well. There is one man who’s met me. He has to be dealt with. But first, we need to take this last shipment and ensure its distribution.’
‘You need this man?’
‘If he stays out of police custody, then he can continue to work for us.’
‘And if he doesn’t?’
‘He’ll have to be dealt with.’
‘Killed?’ Allerton asked.
‘Do you imagine he’ll keep his mouth shut if he’s in for a ten-year stretch in prison? And now he’s with the police,’ the fourth man said.
‘Are there any charges against him?’
‘He’s been associating with a known murderer, but he’ll probably walk clear of the police station. At least today he will.’
‘But the police will be looking out for him,’ Griffiths said.
‘You’re right. Are you suggesting that we deal with him now?’
‘Are you asking if we should kill him?’ Fortescue asked.
‘It’s time you three took part in the decision-making process if I’m to save your skins.’
‘He needs to be dealt with,’ Griffiths said with a glum expression.
‘That’s the way. It’s easy once you get used to it. Just think of him as a number, not a person.’
‘Anyone you have in mind?’ Fortescue asked.
‘To kill him, or to replace the man?’
‘Both.’
‘I’ve got someone who can deal with a murder. Replacing him is not so easy. ’
‘But you’ll find someone,’ Fortescue said.
‘How about you, Jacob?’ The fourth man looked over at Griffiths. ‘You know all about distribution and marketing.’
‘Not a chance.’
‘I’m just testing, and you’re correct, I do have someone; someone who’ll do very nicely to move the merchandise.’
‘And when it’s finished?’
‘He’ll need to be dealt with.’
‘Then it’s two more murders,’ Allerton said.
‘Don’t be stupid, Allerton. We’re not schoolboys now. It’s called risk management.’
***
Alex Hughenden sat in the interview room at Challis Street Police Station. He had been supplied with a meal and a hot drink.
‘He’s too calm,’ Isaac said as he observed the man, courtesy of a video camera mounted in one corner of the interview room.
‘Slimy, that’s what I say,’ Len Donaldson said, reminding DCI Cook of an earlier conversation when he had mentioned his disdain for the man waiting to be interviewed.
Hughenden’s interview had been delayed for two hours while a lawyer was brought in. The first time, Hughenden had declined legal representation; this time he had not.
Relax, Alex, relax, Hughenden thought. They’ve nothing on you that will stick.
‘O’Shaughnessy?’ Donaldson asked Isaac.
‘He’s down in the cells.’
‘Has he been charged?’
‘He has for the murder of Dougal Stewart.’
‘His reaction?’
‘Surprisingly calm.’
‘He knows he’d be wasting his time proclaiming his innocence.’
‘Will he talk?’ Isaac asked.
‘It’s hard to say. He’s guilty of murder, and the evidence
