Page 100 of End Game
But the heavy kept advancing.
Suddenly, with a swing that would have impressed a seasoned baseball player, the heavy struck Faulkner in the back of his legs. He collapsed on the ground with a scream that echoed around the ground.
‘Nice one,’ said Longe.
‘Take the eight million,’ said Faulkner, now on his knees.
‘You seem to have forgotten, Mr Faulkner, that I’ve already got it,’ said Longe, holding up the cheque.
The other heavy stepped forward, picked Faulkner upoff the ground and threw him over his shoulder as if he were a sack of potatoes. He carried him across to the long jump pit and dropped him unceremoniously into the gaping hole.
Booth Watson, now frozen to the spot, looked on in horror.
Faulkner tried to clamber back out, but the man with the spade struck him on the head – not hard enough to knock him out, but just hard enough to make sure he didn’t try to climb back out a second time.A different scream rang out across the empty stadium, pain mingled with fear.
‘Ah,’ said Longe. ‘Something I forgot to mention, Mr Faulkner – your Russian friend’s one condition.’ He paused. ‘I had to make sure you could never do another deal. I happily agreed to his terms.’
Longe didn’t need to give an order, because the two men had already begun to shovel the large mound of sand back into the hole. It was covering Faulkner’s shoulders within moments, but they still continued to ignore his pleas, followed by cries as they piled more and more sand on top of him.
Faulkner screamed out to Booth Watson, but his lawyer, head bowed, was being violently sick, as the sand continued to be deposited relentlessly, shovel after shovel, on top of his client.
Faulkner’s body was now almost covered, but his eyes were still staring up at Longe, his lips barely moving.
Longe bent down, as only one ear was still visible, and gave his former partner a warm smile.
For a moment – just a moment – Faulkner thought he might still survive.
‘Name your price,’ he moaned, spitting out some more sand.
Longe merely smiled. ‘I thought you’d like to know thatan old friend has dropped by to wish you better luck in the next world.’
•••
Ross put down the phone, praying the cavalry would be appearing at any moment.
He continued watching the CCTV screens, to be taken by surprise once again as he saw the man who’d been hidden behind the pillar step out and walk slowly across to join Longe by the long jump pit.
A Russian spy and a London gangster.
Two men who only had one thing in common: self-interest. Their own.
Ross was well aware of his responsibility as an officer of the law, but didn’t find it easy to put aside his personal feelings.
Faulkner had been responsible for the death of his first wife, Josephine, and he was the reason Jojo had grown up without a mother. He’d also been responsible for the death of Avril Dubois, whose evidence – had she made it to the witness box – would have sent Faulkner to prison for the rest of his life. And would Ross ever come to terms with the terrible death of Jackie, his colleague and close friend, who had died because Faulkner turned a blind eye?
Ross then thought about the blindfolded lady, perched on the roof of the Old Bailey weighing up the balance of justice, and became painfully aware that whatever decision he made, he would have to live with it for the rest of his life.
He’d spent the whole of his professional career protecting the public from the kind of two-bit gangsters who were now surrounding the long jump pit. But did that makeFaulkner’slife worth saving?
But he finally realized there was one overriding factor to consider: common sense. If he did decide it was his duty to attempt to arrest the four men, and save Faulkner’s life, what were the odds of him ending up in the long jump pit sharing the same grave as his old adversary?
Ross compromised, not something he often did, and continued hoping that the Light Brigade would arrive in time to arrest the four villains and save the fifth.
•••
Faulkner stared up at the Russian undersecretary, who didn’t favour him with a smile. He pleaded for the last time, as Petrov picked up a spade, filled it with sand and allowed it to fall slowly onto Faulkner’s face.
The pleading turned to a whine, followed by total silence, as Petrov continued shovelling until Faulkner was out of sight.
