Contents (84)
- 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
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- EIGHTY
- EIGHTY-ONE
- EIGHTY-TWO
- EIGHTY-THREE
- Acknowledgements
Luxury.
‘What now?’
Mansour had been given a full briefing on arrival of what to expect, but he had taken in very little of what he had been told. Few first-time prisoners do.
‘Now you sit down and wait for court in the morning,’ the guard replied irritably. ‘And count yourself lucky because it’s twenty-three-hour lock-up in here at the minute. And most don’t have a trip to court to break that up.’
‘And food? I can eat?’
‘You’ll be allowed out between seven p.m. and eight p.m. for dinner. Which is when you’ll get to know that lovely lot you heard as we came in. So you’ve got that to look forward to.’
‘And . . .’
‘Enough questions. After what you did to that guard, you’re lucky you’re in here at all and not locked up in solitary already. So keep the questions to yourself, alright?’
Mansour said nothing as the guard turned, closed the cell door and locked it from outside.
Lucky?
He looked around at the bare walls surrounding him and listened to the screams from outside as he considered the guard’s words.
And for the first time in weeks, Mansour laughed.
THIRTY-FOUR
Bruce Bull noticed a smattering of snowflakes on his windscreen as he pulled into the car park of The Spaniard’s Inn.
The meeting had been Will Duffy’s suggestion, as had the historic Hampstead pub. Bull had been hesitant at first. Even on the outskirts of the city, far from Scotland Yard, a second meeting with a defence solicitor was a risk. But as he took the parking space nearest the back entrance, he realised that he had worried for nothing.
The car park was practically empty, except for Duffy’s red Maserati and a grey Audi.
The beauty of snow in London, Bull thought. First hint of it and everyone stays home.
Bull had passed The Spaniard many times. It was an impossible building to miss; its historic status as an original sixteenth-century pub made it untouchable, and so the road outside was forced to narrow to a single lane as it passed. But until now he’d never been inside.
The interior was as empty as its car park. It had been decorated with a very clear brief: highlight the history of the building, but make the wealthy locals feel at home. Gleaming oak panels vied with chandeliers for the patrons’ attention, while open log fires and crooked wooden beams reminded them that they were glimpsing the past.
None of this mattered to Bull. He was here for a reason, and that reason was sitting in the far corner of an otherwise empty room.
Bull approached the table as Will Duffy looked up. The lawyer rose to his feet and put out his hand.
‘Twice in twelve hours, Will,’ Bull said as he shook Duffy’s hand. ‘You sure your reputation can take the hit?’
‘Mine can if yours can,’ Duffy replied. ‘Drink?’
He indicated a bottle of white wine and two glasses sitting on the table. The bottle was open, and Duffy’s glass had clearly been filled and emptied once already.