“I hope your room was to your satisfaction?” Falconer spoke quietly, a metallic undertone. A man keeping his emotions under check.
“No complaints. And a guard too? Prudent to be security conscious.”
“I couldn’t agree more. I hope you don’t mind the evening suit. I always believe you should be dressed for dinner. It creates an air of elegance, where otherwise such an air would not exist.”
“I agree.”
“Can I offer you a drink?”
“I’m partial to a whisky. Glenfiddich?”
“Perfect choice. In fact, I’ll have one myself. And one for Mr Sands. How do you take it, Mr Lincoln?”
“Neat.”
“Excellent.” He glanced at one of the waiting men, who seemed to derive exact information from the gesture, and left the room.
“I hope you like Japanese cuisine. I have a contingent from Japan arriving shortly, and hired a cook for the evening. Mr Sands is still in shock at the cost. Sometimes, the cost is unimportant, if the occasion merits such extravagance. Don’t you think so, Mr Lincoln?”
“I suppose it depends on the occasion.”
Falconer nodded, pursing his lips, as if considering Black’s response.
“I think we can say this occasion is special.”
“I would like to hear what Adam Black knows about us,” interrupted Sands. “You said he talked before you killed him. What did he say?”
“Please,” said Falconer. “Let’s at least wait until after we’ve eaten. Let’s be civilised. Our guest has travelled far.”
Sands shrugged. “I just thought…”
“Stop thinking for one minute, Sands.”
The man entered the room, carrying a tray, upon which were three short glasses. He placed one at each setting.
Falconer raised his glass. “A toast. To what, Mr Lincoln? New friendships?”
Black lifted his glass, nodded. “To new friendships.”
They drank. Falconer beckoned one of the waiting men over, who leaned in, close to his ear. Falconer whispered something. The man left.
“Talking about new friendships,” said Falconer, “a fourth will be here very shortly. Not so much a new friend. More a very old and dear friend. I think you’ll like him, Mr Lincoln. You have no objection?”
“Of course not.”
The hair on the back of Black’s neck prickled. A sixth sense warned him – trouble! He had no idea where this was going. All he could do was keep cool, see it through, wait for an opportunity. If one should arise.
“How do you like my little ‘abode’?”
“Impressive. You can’t be more private than in the middle of a desert.”
“Privacy is important. Especially in our line of work. Here, there’s little prospect of people interfering. And if anyone feels brave enough to try, then we call in a professional like yourself. To clean up, so to speak.”
The man entered the room again, carrying a black box, tied with a white silk ribbon, which he placed on the table before Black.
“For you, Mr Lincoln. A gift, for all the many services you have performed for us over the years.”
Black looked at Sands, then to Falconer.
“Please – open it.”
Black took a deep breath. Carefully, he untied the ribbon, opened the lid.
A knot of cold dread formed in his chest.
Placed upon soft, cream silk linen, was something he recognised.
A Venetian face mask.
66
The men waiting behind Black stepped forward, arms raised, pointing pistols at him.
Sands screeched his chair back, stood, confused. “What the fuck’s going on?”
“Calm it down,” said Falconer. “Sit. No need to panic.”
Sands looked at Falconer, to Black, back to Falconer, like a bird caught between two cats. He sat, tentatively. “I don’t understand.”
The doors opened. A man entered, who sat at the table, at the fourth setting.
Black knew him instantly. The man he had followed to Westcoates Hall. The man he thought had died in the fire. The wife beater. But so much worse.
Lord Reith.
“We meet again,” said Reith. He turned to Falconer and Sands. “Gentlemen, please let me introduce Adam Black.”
Sands stared, aghast, blood drained from his face. “But where’s Lincoln?”
“Good question,” said Falconer. “Where is Mr Lincoln?”
Black sat back in his chair, finished off the whisky. By now the other two men had stepped forward from the far corners of the room. Four guns trained on his head. There wasn’t really ever a plan. He just hoped he might get lucky. Looked like lady luck had run out.
“Lincoln has departed this world,” he replied. “He’s probably in hell, deliberating over his many adventures. No doubt you’ll meet him soon.” He fixed his gaze on Reith. “I thought you were dead. Shame. How’s your hand?”
“The fire killed just about everybody. The glass in the conservatory warped and broke. I got out. The first thing I did was phone Boyd, to tell him you were alive. Then he emailed you, to agree to seeing you. To catch you in our little web. And now you’re here, with us. Not for long, I’m afraid. How did you manage to find out about our ‘gathering’?”
Black gave a crooked smile. “Gathering? Is that how you describe it? You got careless.”
“Expand, please.”
“It’s not rocket science. We met at your chambers at the High Court. I stabbed you through the hand. I’m sure you recall. I noticed you were wearing a ring. Then I watched a video of a bunch of depraved fuckers raping a little girl. And guess what I saw. Same ring. So, I made a mad guess that you don’t only abuse your wife, but also kids. Turned out not so mad after all. I followed you. You led me to your lair. The rest is history.”
“Bravo!” exclaimed Falconer. “You are one clever boy! But maybe not so clever. You’re here now, about to reach a sorry conclusion. What did you hope to achieve?”
Black shrugged. “To kill you. To kill you all. Why wouldn’t I? They kill vermin, don’t they? I felt it was a public service, to eradicate filth.”
“And now you’re going to lose everything,” intoned Reith.
“Wrong. I have nothing to lose. That’s why I make such a dangerous enemy. I won’t stop.” He swivelled his gaze to Falconer. “Until every one of you is fucking dead in
