The cuffs that were snapped on to his wrists were cold, hard and very tight. He winced. He was marched out of the house towards a waiting car, and as he looked back at the house, he saw at least five officers entering it, flicking lights on and moving equipment into place.

He’d never felt so scared in his life. His thoughts whirled. Had Benji been arrested too? And Tooting? He tried to stay calm. As they drove away, he could feel the blood throbbing in his hands.

‘What is this about? Why are those officers going into my house?’

‘We’ve got a search warrant, sir.’

Christopher closed his eyes. He had no idea where he was being taken or exactly what he was accused of. They’d mentioned murder and fraud in the charge.

All would be well. Philip’s lawyers would see to it.

Chapter 58

The delay to his flight was only a minor irritation, and Philip sat back with another glass of champagne. The business-class lounge wasn’t what it used to be; anyone could come in here now if they had enough Air Miles. They even served Prosecco. His wife called, and he decided to answer it in case it was something important about work or the grandchildren.

‘Philip, the police have been looking for you: at the club, here, at the flat in London.’

‘How do you know about the flat in London?’

‘Oh come on, Philip, I know about everything. That’s not important. Why do they want to speak to you?’

‘I have no idea.’ The creeping feeling returned under his ribs and he glanced around the lounge, but no one was taking any interest in him.

‘Where are you?’ asked his wife.

‘I’ve just been to the gym. I’ve been on the rowing machine. I’m knackered, actually, I’m—’

‘I suggest you get back here as soon as you can. They’ve been calling all your numbers.’

‘I don’t keep work phones on me at the weekend, you know that.’

‘I gave them your private number.’

‘They haven’t called it.’

He glanced over at the receptionist behind the desk: she was speaking into her phone. One look his way told him what he needed to know. He hung up on his wife and looked at his watch, then gathered his things and made his way to the exit from the lounge. He was too late. Uniformed police entered through the double glass doors and blocked the way.

‘Mr Philip Tooting?’

‘That’s my name.’ He straightened his tie and tidied his jacket over his arm.

‘We’re arresting you on suspicion of murder, conspiracy to murder, fraudulent activity and perverting the course of justice.’

‘Well, I… This is ludicrous.’