Rik returned to the table, laid his gun down and took his seat. He was about to drink his lukewarm coffee when all hell broke loose.

Chapter 75

No. 2 Parliament St, Westminster, London. Sunday, 1:30pm.

Whilst Arthur Hickstead wasn’t under house arrest, his confinement wasn’t far short of it. The police had his passport, his accounts were being monitored and if he wanted to leave the building, Donald on the front door would accompany him whilst one of the back office staff manned the door.

It didn’t really matter. There was nowhere he wanted to be, and by tomorrow night the inevitable deal would have been reached with the authorities. The Establishment didn’t want a newly ennobled peer of the realm all over the tabloid newspaper front pages; the country would become a laughing stock. Whilst he had been very careful, he considered himself fortunate that there was as yet no evidence linking him to the murders of Sir Max or Andrew Cuthbertson. As it had turned out, the deaths were being reported as natural causes and suicide respectively.

He relaxed into the leather upholstery of the wingback chair as he reasoned that since the money and the painting were now in the possession of Van Aart’s men, the police would have trouble persuading the CPS to do any more than prosecute him for the Hammond blackmail. The peer had been told that the CPS would probably recommend a deal on that basis. Still, a deal would be assured if Hammond and Fisher refused to give evidence, hence the temporary absence of Lavender Fisher and Hammond’s girlfriend.

The bright spot of the weekend had been the visit of that awful policeman, Coombes, who had to ‘sadly inform you that your safety deposit box was broken into and your papers have gone’. The message had been delivered with bad grace and more than a hint of malice, because both men knew what had really been in the box and who had initiated the break in.

The Sunday papers hadn’t picked up on the scandal yet, albeit one of the more sensationalist tabloids carried the headline “Unnamed Peer in Criminal Conspiracy” under an ‘Exclusive’ banner on page 2. He read the article twice. It was a mixture of rumour and speculation, but there was no suggestion that he was the peer involved.

He jumped when the phone rang. He hadn’t been expecting any calls. It was Faik, his Iraqi friend.

“The documents you requested are ready. Do you want me to deliver them to the hotel?”

“Yes, Faik, thank you. Are they as discussed?”

“You pay for the best, you get the best. Yussi wants his money.”

“I have it at the hotel. Meet me there at seven o’clock tomorrow evening.”

“OK, I will bring the documents.”

Hickstead terminated the call, and justified the expense to himself. It always paid to have a contingency plan. Anyway, once Van Aart had taken the million pound Churchill painting in payment for his services, he would have a million pounds in cash. A man could travel a long way on a million pounds, and travel in style.

Chapter 7 6

Tottenham Press, Commercial Road, London. Sunday, 1:50pm.

Dee was still trying some tentative walking when she was rocked by two explosions, which occurred almost simultaneously. Seconds later there was pandemonium downstairs. She heard lots of shouting, and a moment later a machine pistol rattled off a dozen rounds.

Lavender was terrified. Dee told her to get under the table because she would be safer there but, without knowing what was happening, she had no real way of knowing. It might turn out that nowhere in this place was safe.

***

Rik grabbed his gun and was at the office door in time to see two armed men in combat gear run into the building, rifles raised, screaming orders. As he turned he saw two more identical figures coming in from the other fire door. Light poured in through the spaces where the fire doors had been, silhouetting the policemen.

The first two people the police approached were Sonny and Johnny, who were so surprised that when they were told to drop their weapons and put their hands on their heads they forgot they weren’t even armed. As a policeman came towards them signalling that he wanted their arms up, three shots rang out from an automatic gun. The policeman was hit and fell to the floor. Sonny and Johnny’s eyes widened in horror, expecting a violent reaction from the police.

Gregor, awakened by the explosions, had slipped out of the car and concealed himself behind a print machine. Confused and still dazed, he was uncertain as to who he was facing. He stood up and fired a controlled burst at the first person he saw. He swore under his breath when he noticed the word ‘police’ painted on the helmet of the man he had just shot.

Gregor ducked down again. He saw Piet running up the stairs and so he stood up to give him some covering fire. Before he could aim, his head exploded as he was shot from behind. Gregor’s body shuddered, and then he fell as he was impacted with more bullets, his machine pistol firing wildly before falling silent.

The roller shutter door had been rising so slowly that the policemen outside decided to lie flat on their stomachs to get an angle of fire into the building. When they saw a masked man raising a machine pistol, intending to fire at their colleagues, three of them shot at once. Usual protocol; one to the head two to the chest, except that this time it was three to the head and six to the body.

Johnny had dropped to the floor when the firing began, and was now lying spread-eagled as speedcuffs were fastened onto his wrists. He wondered why Sonny was not being subjected to the same treatment, but then he saw why. He looked across the floor into the flat, dead eyes of his boss. Gregor had unknowingly sprayed Sonny with bullets as he fell to the floor in his death throes. Two bloody holes were left where 9mm slugs had pierced Sonny’s coat, and the third slug had taken off part of Sonny’s right ear as it passed into and out of his skull at an angle of forty five degrees.

***

Dee pulled Lavender to her feet and stood protectively in front of her as she heard someone running up the stairs. A second later the door crashed open and Piet burst in. He wasn’t wearing his mask, which was a pity because his face was contorted with rage, and Lavender whimpered.

“This is your fault! Die, bitch!” Piet snarled as he raised his gun.

Dee braced herself, spreading herself wide to offer Lavender maximum protection. She closed her eyes just before the shot.

***

Rik heard the shot upstairs and took advantage of a lull in the firing to race up the metal staircase. As he ran he was accompanied by a symphony of clanging metal as bullets hit the staircase. One bullet grazed his leg and another gouged out a wickedly painful groove in his left side just below his ribs. He dived through the door.

***

Dave had been dozing when the explosions woke him into instant awareness. He took off his mask as he saw the police burst in, mob handed. He put his gun down on the table and decided to leave the girls where they were. They were probably relatively safe in there, he thought. Then the lunatic Gregor shot a policeman, and within seconds it had turned into carnage. From his window he could see Johnny being cuffed, Sonny lying dead, and the twisted ruin that had once been Gregor’s body.

Piet rushed in to the accompaniment of gunfire and went straight to the girls’ room. Dave reacted instantly, reaching for his gun. As he closed his hand around the grip he heard Piet screeching “Die, bitch!” and watched as Piet raised the gun, ready to fire. Dave’s finger found the trigger but he wasn’t sure he would find his target in time. His gun was still swinging in an arc when he bit his lip and fired.

***

Dee opened her eyes to see Piet’s hands drop to his sides. There had been time for Piet’s brain to register shock before half of it hit the wall beside him. He collapsed onto the floor. Lavender was hysterical, and a moment later Dave came running in.