‘You’ve told your wife.’
‘Not the details, and not your names.’
‘But the police are not fools. They’ll check you out. It won’t take them long to fit the pieces together. Allerton, you’ve stuffed us,’ Griffiths said.
‘Not at all. I am doing the only honourable thing left to me. I will not reveal your names.’
Keith sat down and weighed up the situation. He knew Allerton’s wife would not talk. Her position in society was more important to her than the lives of a few criminals. And if she had to choose between her lifestyle and her husband, he knew which one she would choose. As for Allerton, he could only feel contempt. Keith knew that he had come from the impoverished side of the family – no stately home, no title, no silver spoon – and he had pulled himself up through his own brilliance and sheer willpower. Allerton had just muddled through, and Fortescue was an incompetent lecher. At least Jacob Griffiths had some backbone.
‘Can we meet?’ Keith asked.
‘Very well,’ Allerton reluctantly agreed. Regardless of his wife, an agreement he had made with three other men, boys then, still meant something to him.
‘Fortescue, your place?’ Keith suggested.
‘If we must.’
‘Is that okay by the other two?’
‘Okay by me,’ Griffiths replied.
‘I’ll be there,’ Allerton said. ‘Give me sixty minutes.’
‘Give me ninety,’ Fortescue said. He still had unfinished business with the mistress.
***
Len Donaldson was at Challis Street Police Station. Allerton was due soon. Isaac called a meeting in his office. ‘What do we have on Allerton?’ he asked.
‘He inherited the title on the death of his father,’ Bridget said. ‘He’s married with two children. Apart from that, there’s not a lot to tell you.’
‘There must be more. A peer of the realm.’
‘There’s plenty, but it’s all good. There were some positions in the city when he was younger, but on inheriting the title and the stately home, he located there. There’s no dirt on the man, and I’ve found no information regarding his movements. From all reports, he seems to be a decent man.’
‘Yet he’s willing to come in here and confess to being a leading figure in a drug syndicate. It makes no sense,’ Isaac said.
‘It does,’ Donaldson said. ‘We’ve never been able to get a handle on its leadership. We’ve focussed on known criminals, whereas Allerton has no record of crime, which means the others, assuming there are others, may not either.’
‘Schooling, financial status. Anything there?’ Isaac asked.
‘I’ve checked in Burke’s Peerage. He attended Eton College,’ Bridget said.
With little more to say, the team went back to their desks. Larry worked on some reports that he needed to prepare. Bridget continued to research Allerton, and Wendy sat close to Bridget watching what she was doing. Everyone was on tenterhooks awaiting the arrival of Lord Allerton.
Len Donaldson and Isaac sat in Isaac’s office discussing the case. Both men knew it was going to be a long night.
‘Could this man be capable of pulling off an operation of this magnitude?’ Isaac asked.
‘I can’t see how,’ Donaldson said, ‘but then who would? Typically, we’d be looking at the major criminals, the overseas crime gangs, but this time we’ve been baffled.’
‘If it was so successful why didn’t other crime organisations aim to take it over?’
‘They may have, but if everyone, including the other criminals, were making money, then maybe they were left alone.’
‘You believe they were paid off?’
‘Someone had to be supplying the drugs in Europe.’
‘Any luck finding out who they are?’ Isaac asked.
‘We know who they are.’
‘Who?’
‘Bratva, the Russian Mafia in Moscow. They’re shipping large quantities of heroin out of Afghanistan. And then there are some Albanians who are trafficking as well, although they’re small fry compared to the Russians.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘The Albanians keep a low profile. If you want vicious bastards, try the Bratva. The Albanians know this, and they’re careful not to tread on anyone’s toes.’
‘Allerton and his people have been sourcing from these two groups?’ Isaac asked.
‘If the syndicate took enough from the Russians, they’d make sure there was no competition.’
***
Miles Fortescue was not pleased to see the other three at his place. He had always regarded it as his sanctuary away from the rigours of public life and from his wife. He had to admit that she had played her part in the intervening years, presenting herself as the dutiful wife of a politician. To most people, or those who were interested, he and his wife were the perfect blend of political duty and personal unity. The three who were now in his house, an elegant terrace not far from Westminster, were under no illusion. The smell of the mistress’s perfume was still apparent, and the politician had been looking forward to more of her time.
‘Where is she?’ Griffiths asked.
‘She’s not staying around for you to see,’ Fortescue said. He failed to mention that she was married as well, and her privacy was paramount.
‘Miles's peccadillos are not important, are they?’ Keith said.
‘Not really,’ Griffiths agreed.
‘Allerton, what is it with the police?’ Keith asked. The man being questioned sat on a stool in the kitchen. He was downcast and pale in the face.
‘You should not have killed that man.’
‘I’ve never killed anyone. I told you there were some loose ends to be dealt with. From what I could see at our last meeting, all three of you were in agreement.’
‘Yes, but…’
‘There are no buts. If you play with the big boys, you have to learn to play by their rules.’
‘Then I was wrong to go in with you,’ Allerton said.
‘And wrong to accept all the money I put your way. I assume your conscience is not that severely affected that you’re willing to return your
