Page 2 of End Game
‘With Booth Watson sharing the same cell,’ suggested William.
‘Amen to that,’ said the Hawk. ‘But how is Ross holding up?’
‘He has never really settled after his run-in with Commander Sinclair,’ admitted William. ‘They keep giving him jobs where he can’t get into any trouble. But let’s face it, Ross wasn’t born to be a saint.’
‘Should we win the bid,’ said the Hawk, ‘we could do with Sergeant Hogan being back on our team, because we’ll have our work cut out. One thing’s for certain, while there’s several billion swilling around, every crook north of the river will be dipping their noses in the Olympic trough.’
‘Along with one or two south of the river,’ suggestedWilliam, ‘including Miles Faulkner, who won’t want to miss out while there’s a chance of making a quick buck.’
‘There’s no doubt about that,’ agreed the Assistant Commissioner, as they joined the delegates making their way back to the Convention Centre, each anxious to hear which city would be the next to be eliminated.
•••
Six thousand miles away, Miles Faulkner and Mr Booth Watson QC got off a bus and began walking towards a pub they’d never frequented before. Not their usual mode of transport, but Faulkner had decided to leave Collins and the Rolls in Cadogan Place, as a chauffeur sitting behind the wheel of a Silver Cloud would attract too much attention in an East End car park full of second-hand cars, some of them stolen.
Collins had already visited the Newham Arms several times during the past month and gathered all the information Miles needed to carry out his planned coup.
‘Why did you choose Collins?’ Booth Watson had asked.
‘Horses for courses,’ Miles had replied. ‘In any case, he’s utterly trustworthy.’
When Miles entered the pub, he spotted two locals sitting one each end of the bar. Neither of them acknowledged him, as had been agreed with Collins. The two newcomers perched on the empty stools between them, and Miles ordered a couple of pints, whilst glancing up at the television to see that the results of the next round of voting would be declared shortly.
Huw Edwards was taking viewers through the voting procedure and explaining why he thought New York would be the next city to be eliminated, leaving Paris, Madrid and London to move on to the crucial round.
The landlord placed two pints of bitter on the counter, his eyes rarely leaving the television.
‘You seem interested in who wins,’ said Miles innocently.
‘My future depends on it,’ replied the publican, without looking back at his customer.
‘Is that so?’ mused Booth Watson, as he reluctantly sipped his beer.
‘I’m not sure I understand,’ said Miles, who understood only too well that the pub and the adjoining car park would be right in the middle of the proposed Olympic Stadium, should London win.
‘You’re sitting at the start of the one hundred metres,’ said the landlord, ‘and the long jump pit would be in my car park, so if London gets the nod, I’ll make a fortune.’
‘A fortune?’ repeated Miles, hoping to find out what the publican considered to be a fortune.
‘I’ve already been offered a quarter of a million by a local developer,’ said the landlord. ‘But only if we win.’
Miles already knew exactly who the developer was: a local mafia boss called Bernie Longe, but he remained silent, as his lawyer would be delivering the next line.
‘And if London doesn’t win?’ asked Booth Watson, coming in on cue.
‘I’ll be lucky to get fifty thousand, which is why it’s not only their future that’s on the line,’ said the landlord, pointing up at the television. ‘I’ll either be seeing out my days in a council house on the local estate or exchanging it for a country cottage in Essex.’
‘Let me pose a hypothetical question,’ ventured Miles, as he put down his glass. ‘As Paris is looking like the odds-on favourite, how much would you settle for if I made you an offer for the site right now?’
The landlord looked surprised and took his time considering the proposal. ‘Two hundred thousand,’ he finally said, his eyes once more fixed on the television.
The President of the Olympic Committee stood up, opened the envelope, withdrew the card and announced, ‘The city of New York will not participate in the next round.’
•••
‘If London is eliminated next, which seems likely,’ said the Hawk, ‘I’ve already packed my bags ready to head back home.’
‘But if London were to win,’ replied William, ‘you’ll have to unpack them again.’
