Page 99 of End Game
‘You don’t frighten me,’ said Faulkner, standing his ground, ‘because without my money, you don’t have a deal.’
‘Funny you should mention that, Mr Faulkner,’ said Longe, as the two men went on digging, his voice now revealing a harder edge. ‘Somethin’ I forgot to mention. Just a couple of days ago, I had a visit from a Russian gentleman who used to be an associate of yours.’
Faulkner looked worried, while Booth Watson was sick in his mouth, but swallowed it.
•••
Ross’s gaze hadn’t left the CCTV screens for a moment, and although he couldn’t hear a word passing between them, he didn’t need to be told it wasn’t a friendly conversation. He now regretted allowing Rebecca to leave early. As the two men continued to throw shovel upon shovel of sand out of the long jump pit, Ross’s eyes fell on a figure sitting in the shadows in the corner of one screen. He was secreted behind a pillar, with what looked like two large suitcases next to him. Although he couldn’t see the man clearly, there was something familiar about him.
Ross made a second call.
•••
Paul yawned as he came to a halt at a roundabout just about a mile from the stadium. He didn’t much care for being a glorified nightwatchman. It was soul-destroying work. He was looking forward to the Paralympics in ten days’ time, when he would be taking over William’s role as Gold Commander and calling the shots. Then, after a well-earned holiday, he’d be joining the fraud squad as a Superintendent. He couldn’t wait to get back to banging up some real criminals.
As he came off the roundabout back onto Olympic Way, his phone rang. Once he heard what Ross had to say, he switched on his siren and broke the speed limit.
•••
‘I thought that might surprise you,’ said Longe, with an exaggerated sigh. ‘And what else do you think your Russian friend told me?’
Faulkner made no attempt to respond.
‘That you made a deal with him but welched on it at the last minute. I told him that was par for the course. And would you believe it,’ said Longe, ‘my new friend was willing to come up with the eight million I still need, and even agreed on a fifty-fifty split …’ He paused. ‘But on one condition.’
‘But you’ve got my money now,’ said Miles, sounding unsure of himself for the first time.
‘You’re right about that, Mr Faulkner, and I’ll be cashing your cheque first thing in the morning.’
Miles glanced over his shoulder at Booth Watson, who didn’t seem to have any considered advice to hand. Faulkner hesitated for a moment before he gave a little ground. ‘Okay. I’ll also agree to fifty-fifty.’
‘But I’ve already got that,’ said Longe.
The two heavies had finished digging and were climbing back out of the pit.
•••
Ross made a third call.
Rebecca put down her knife and fork and reluctantly answered her phone. Although Ross whispered, he didn’tleave her in any doubt she wouldn’t be seeing the late-night film. Rebecca got up, said ‘Happy Birthday, Maureen,’ and left her credit card on the table before rushing out of the restaurant.
•••
Faulkner stared down into the hole and swallowed hard. ‘I’m willing to agree on sixty-forty in your favour,’ he said, spitting out the words.
‘No, thank you, Mr Faulkner,’ said Longe. ‘Now I’ve got your cheque, as well as the Russian gentleman’s eight million, as far as I’m concerned, it’s double or quits.’
‘Double or quits?’ repeated Faulkner.
‘Yeah, I get double, while you quit.’
Booth Watson gasped, but could only watch as one of the heavies picked up a spade and strolled menacingly towards Faulkner.
‘You can’t be serious,’ Miles stammered, as the thug raised his spade.
‘Never been more serious, Mr Faulkner,’ said Longe.
‘I’ll pay you seventy-thirty,’ said Faulkner.
