Chapters (49)
- Cover
- Table of Contents
- Also by Graham Hurley
- LIMELIGHT
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- AFTERWARDS
‘This is a game,’ he says. ‘From where I’m sitting, they’ve got bugger all, and that’s not in the job description at all. Your guy McFaul does a deep clean? Gets rid of all that crap furniture you described? Accepts a cheque from his partner? That barely even qualifies as circumstantial. You’re right about our Mr Bullivant. The man is unforgiving. He has iron in his soul. He needs to believe that McFaul killed his partner and – even worse – he’s become the prisoner of his own hunch. In other words, our Mr Bullivant’s banged up with the darkest side of his own nature. Look at the man. And on top of everything else, you tell me he’s a lay preacher. Can you imagine anything worse?’
Banged up with the darkest side of his own nature. I store the phrase away for later, thinking especially of Berndt, my ex-husband, and when things got very bad indeed, of Malo. But Tony Morse hasn’t finished.
‘The other lot might be more problematic. MI5 don’t do proper disclosure. Secrecy comes with the job, in fact secrecy is the bloody job. These people have powers you won’t believe, and digging anything out of them is a no-no. If they thought you were a terrorist, you’d still be talking to them but McFaul’s a different matter. They’ve obviously got something on him. He’s obviously in the frame.’
‘You’re serious?’
‘I am. And so are they. These people don’t fuck about, believe me.’ He pauses, then reaches for his gin and tonic. ‘Just an aside, but can you think of any reason why your friend might attract this kind of attention?’
In truth, I can’t.
‘Do terrorists work in minefields?’ I ask him. ‘Do they try and keep Angolan kids in one piece? Do they retire to deepest Portugal and keep their heads down? Has that poor bloody man come back to Budleigh Salterton to blow the country up? This is bizarre. Turn it into a drama and even Channel Four wouldn’t screen garbage like this.’
Tony nods, seeming to agree. Then he empties the remains of his glass. He has to be back in Pompey to sort out mitigation pleas for tomorrow’s Crown Court. It has, as ever, been a pleasure. He gets up, checks his hair in a nearby mirror, and then gestures me to my feet. I submit very readily to a hug, and then thank him for making the effort.
‘Any time.’ He gives me the trademark squeeze. ‘You’ve got my number.’
‘You think they’ll be back for more?’
‘I very much doubt it.’