Page 75 of Famous Last Words

So he knows exactly who Deschamps is, and what he’s infamous for, just as Niall suspected.

‘Nobody’s saying you did.’ Niall leans his weight back on his feet, giving Harry space. ‘I definitely haven’t been briefed that you did.’

‘No?’

‘No, not at all. In fact, I’ve been told only that you’re one of the best-placed people to tell us what was going on with Deschamps. First, we knew he saved your property on Rightmove. You denied any connection. But now – we know he had your number.’ Niall leaves a pause. ‘If only you had told us he’d come to view your house, rather than saying nothing at all, and incriminating yourself, years later.’

Niall stands back, his tone soft, his enquiring mind satisfied. That old negotiator training. He’s played his full-house hand, right here, face up.

Harry weighs up his options. Niall can almost see the cogs spin; he’s holding a piece of bait out to a wild animal and waiting.

‘I don’t know much,’ he says. ‘Not really.’

‘Do you know if he’s alive?’

Harry turns away again, sifting through a stack ofsandpaper with a B&Q label attached to it, his head bowed downwards.

‘Tell me exactly what you’re offering me, here,’ he says, looking up, and the deflection isn’t lost on Niall.

‘Depends what you know.’

‘What I know depends on what you can offer me.’

‘Immunity from future prosecution.’

‘Sure,’ Harry says sarcastically.

‘I never lie,’ Niall says simply.

‘Ha, yeah,’ Harry says. ‘Feds never lie, right?’

The street slang surprises Niall: Harry looks to be about forty, nice house. Unkempt, sure, and he’s served time, but even so. ‘I’m a hostage negotiator,’ Niall says. ‘Different to a fed.’

‘Oh, right – you were his negotiator then?’ Harry says, eyes interested. He puts the sandpaper down.

‘Yes.’ Niall fixes his gaze on Harry.

‘Didn’t do a very good job of it.’

It’s like taking a bullet, but Niall covers up his wince. ‘How did you know him?’ he asks.

‘I would give your name, yeah? In the future.’ Bingo! Harry is clearly considering Niall’s offer.

‘Sure thing.’

‘For any crime?’

‘Within reason …’

He draws a breath. ‘Deschamps’ – he pronounces the French name perfectly, so well Niall wonders if he is bilingual – ‘came to me for protection.’

‘Protection?’ Niall says, but the second the word is out of his mouth, he understands. ‘He bought protection.’

Protection. An ancient commodity. Purchased by criminals and desperate people. From personal security all theway up to – well, worse, and mostly at prices you can never pay. Things you can never part with.

‘Why?’

‘He came to me for help. He was in hot water. I can’t say more than that.’

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