Roberts had arranged the meeting. He arrived before Wilkins and busied himself making sandwiches and tea in preparation for what he hoped would be their final meeting together. When Sutherland had opened the door to him, he’d managed to tone down the grin on his face and had greeted his old friend with a sombre and serious demeanour. It hadn’t been easy. Roberts had rotted in prison for the better part of his life and the prospect now of finding true freedom filled him with a hope that just cried out to be celebrated.
“Where do you want these?”, he asked Sutherland, holding up the platter of food that he’d hastily put together.
“We’ll eat in the conservatory.”, Sutherland replied, his voice a shadow of what it had been and the weak wave of his arm towards the rear of the building, a testament to his failing health, “It’s quiet in there, and we can keep an eye out for any unwanted attention we might be receiving.”
By the time that Wilkins arrived, the table had been laid and the bottles of beer piled high into an ice bucket. Roberts opened the door for him and led him to through to the back of the house. Once there, he slipped behind Sutherland and helped him manoeuvre into a spot where he could both reach the food and talk comfortably to the others.
“Help yourselves to food,”, Roberts wanted to move things forward, “and while you do, I’ll tell you why I’ve asked us to meet today.”
He took a bite of a sandwich and opened a bottle of beer for himself, before continuing.
“The bottom-line is, I’ve had enough of all this cloak-and-dagger stuff and I want out.”
“Easy to say, but we’re all in this together…”
“Please,”, Roberts held up his hand to interrupt Wilkins, “let me say my piece first and then you can have your say. The point is, this isn’t up for discussion. I’ve thought about it long and hard and I’ve reached my decision. I’m not giving up the rest of my life waiting to see Carrington punished for what he did. I’m not asking you to agree, but I need you to respect my position.”
“We see things differently, I’m sure,”, he continued after emptying the bottle of beer and cracking open another, “and it’s not for me to comment on your own stance on this. From my point of view though, I think we’re looking for something that isn’t necessarily going to solve anything and which looks increasingly less likely to happen anyway. Carrington lost his daughter and his wife. Then he lost his identity. We deserved our sentence and we’ve paid our dues, but the sentence on Carrington is still being carried out. If he’s still alive, he’s imprisoned by fear and by a total exclusion from the mainstream. I think he’s endured and is enduring punishment enough. We catch him, we kill him, isn’t that going to actually ease his suffering?”
“You’ve got a point.”, Sutherland struggled to form every word he spoke, “I’m a little surprised at your change of heart, but I do acknowledge the fact that you at least have some sort of a life left to enjoy. I don’t have that privilege and all I’m holding out for is to do to Carrington what he did to us. Without that, I’d already be six-foot under.”
They waited as he tried to get his breath back. He fiddled with the transparent tubes that ran into his nostrils and tapped the gauge that was telling him he had ample left in the bottle.
“This damned thing,”, he cursed, “tells me it’s full but there’s nothing coming through. That’s the good old NHS for you. Look, I need a refill. Can one of you go and get a replacement, they’re out the back by the kitchen door.”
Roberts, already standing, turned and completed the task. There were several bottles out there, but he made his choice carefully. When he returned, Sutherland talked him through the process of exchanging the life-saving gas bottle and within minutes, the old man was breathing regularly again.
“Thanks,”, he muttered, “now, where was I? Oh yes, revenge on Carrington. Non-negotiable from my side, I’m afraid. Tony?”
“Same goes for me.”, Wilkins replied without hesitation, “It’s all or nothing as far as I’m concerned and I don’t share your pessimism about us finding him. It won’t be long now, I’m certain of it. What I need to know, is how this thing pans out for you, Paul? Tell us that.”
“Oh, it’s simple really,”, Roberts replied, “and I’ve done the legwork already. As I think we are all aware, each of us has our documents stored somewhere safe and the necessary controls in place to alert each other should any of us die, or the wider world if we all die together. Agreed?”
They nodded.
“So, all I’m doing is saying to the two of you, take my documents. Do with them as you will but let me wash my hands of this thing completely.”
“And we can trust you to deliver?”, Sutherland asked.
“More than that. I’m delivering today.”
With that, he reached into jacket and withdrew a tightly packed envelope that he dropped onto the table.
“That’s all I have.”, he told them, “Various signed orders, a couple of DVDs and a few photographs. Take them. They’re yours now.”
“And what’s the catch?”, Sutherland asked.
“There isn’t one. You get more data, I get my freedom. I get a chance to have a life. That’s it. Can you live with that?”
“Makes no difference to me.”, Wilkins looked across at Sutherland who shrugged his shoulders in agreement.
“It’s a deal then,”, he turned to Roberts, “but you’d better be on the level here. You’ll never be totally free. You know that, don’t you? Just don’t be tempted to ask them for help in return for what little information you still retain in your head. If they don’t get you, we will.”
“Look,”, Roberts began to tidy up the plates, “I know what I’m doing here. The evidence is all yours now. Anything I remember is mere hearsay. We part today and that’s that. But if I were you, I’d get that lot safely under lock and key. There’s not as much in there as I know you guys have, but it’s powerful stuff. If I might suggest, given Mr Sutherland’s condition, maybe that’s something that you should take care of Tony?”
Sutherland agreed and, with a final handshake, they sent Wilkins away, listening to the squeal of tyres as he gunned the engine of the mid-life crisis sports car that he loved so much.
“I’ll help tidy up in here and then go.”, Roberts told Sutherland, “You feeling okay?”
“Just a bit tired, but thanks. You’ve a side to you that I haven’t seen before.”
“We’re all a bit enigmatic at times,”, he smiled as he replied, “isn’t that so? We all do strange things every now and then. Say one thing but do another, if you know what I mean?”
Roberts took a long pull on the last full bottle of beer and looked Sutherland in the eye as he spoke.
“You, for example. Dead set on revenge against Carrington but knowing you’re not going to see it. What was the deal we did with The Circle? No leaks of data as long as they pursue Carrington and no independent action. No chance of a leak of data. Totally secure storage. You sure you’ve stuck to the letter of that agreement?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”, Sutherland’s voice was feinter than ever and his words came fitfully, “What are you saying I’ve done?”
“Oh, I can’t blame you,”, Roberts finished the beer and tossed the bottle into the recycling bin, “and I might have done the same thing in your position. But really, keeping your part of the evidence with you? Isn’t that a bit foolhardy?”
Sutherland struggled to reply, his eyelids growing heavy and his limbs becoming numb.
“What have you done?”, he asked.
“What I had to do. Eliminate the threat. You really think that if you die, whoever finds the wallet of papers that you hold will follow your instructions to pass them to us? They’ll read them. They’ll understand what they represent and either take them to the papers or the police. Either way, Wilkins and I are toast. Don’t worry, I understand why you did it. You di
dn’t know if you’d ever get to that safe-deposit box again, so you removed the papers when you could. But really, keeping them here.”
As he spoke, he reached under Sutherlands legs and pulled out the thick cushion that he sat on.
“Let’s see,”, Roberts smiled as he unzipped the vinyl cushion cover, “all appears to be in order. Good. Now, rest in peace.”
“Tell me, what have you done?”
“A little gift from some friends of mine. Not sure exactly what it is but you’ve been breathing it in for the past hour or so. Some form of carbon monoxide I’ve been told, but the details don’t matter. You’re breathing your last now. Say your prayers, if you need to, but don’t try and resist it.”
The old man’s breathing grew shallower and shallower until it was barely discernible at all. With a gloved hand, Roberts kept time to the fading pulse until it stopped. He cleared up in the kitchen, moved Sutherland out in front of the television and settled down for a peaceful evening in the dead man’s company.
It had all gone well. Fifty-percent of the threat to his future had been eliminated and in such an agreeable way. When he’d been tipped off about Sutherland’s withdrawal from the bank a few weeks back, he’d called in the help he needed and started the ball rolling. Having moved Sutherland into the conservatory earlier, it had been easy for him to place a clamp on the oxygen pipe and as easy to remove it when he’d attached the bottle that had been left for him with a chalked circle at its base. All nice and easy. Hopefully, the next step would be as smooth. He’d know soon enough.
When he woke the following morning, he checked his mobile and smiled at the text he’d received. Barely able to fain the right emotions he called Wilkins and let his garbled words wake the man up.
“It’s Sutherland. Dead. Must have died last night.”
“What do you mean?”
“I came back this morning. I’d left some stuff behind. He’s here, dead. Slumped in front of the television. You need to come around. I’ll start searching.”
Wilkins made it in less than an hour, his tyres squealing as he threw the car onto the kerb outside the bungalow. The front door was unlocked and he walked in, calling out Roberts’ name as he did so.
“In here.”, a remarkably calm voice replied.
He was surprised to see Roberts calmly drinking tea and reading through the day’s newspaper that he’d retrieved from the letterbox.
“Seems we may be in luck.”, he told Wilkins, “Look what I found under the cushion on our friend’s wheelchair.”
He waved the wad of papers but gave no further explanation. Wilkins knew exactly what they were.
“And Sutherland?”, he asked.
“Asleep through there. Very asleep.”
“I can’t say he looked too good yesterday,”, Wilkins ventured, “but the timing does seem a little fortunate.”
“Maybe we deserve a bit of good fortune after all we’ve been through. Check him out if you must. Looks like a very natural death to me.”
Taking him up in the offer, Wilkins walked over to the old man and made a cursory examination of the corpse. Nothing there raised any suspicion in him.
“And those papers?”, he asked when he returned, “You confident that they’re all he has?”
“Seem to be.”, Roberts replied, “I think he had an inkling he was soon to pass and chose to keep them with him. I think he was losing it a bit by then. Look at the envelope. Like anyone’s just going to call us and hand them over. No, the timing is perfect.”
“Which means we have the full set.”, Wilkins smiled as replied, “All in one place. You free to go and me waiting for Carrington. I’m still not convinced, but it’s a resolution. You going to call this one in?”
“Not yet.”, Roberts rose as he replied, “We still have some loose ends to tie up.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that I’ve not been totally honest with you, I’m afraid. You see, I was telling the truth when I said I wanted to be free from all this stuff, but when I approached The Circle they wouldn’t let me be. Not unless I did it on their terms.”
“You did a deal?”
“Well, what else could I do? I’m sick of this life and I want to start again.”
“And what exactly did you agree with them?”
“That I’d do what they wanted. That I’d get them all the documents we have and hand them over.”
“But you’ve only got Sutherland’s?”, Wilkins was struggling to understand what was happening here, “And you gave me yours yesterday. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Before I explain,”, Roberts held up a small plastic box on a cord, “I should tell you about this. I found it in Sutherland’s bedroom. It’s an emergency call button. One press and the ambulance will be here. Very likely that they’ll be accompanied by the boys in blue. Remember, I walked the last stretch to this place. You, however, chose to make your presence known with your flashy car and personal plate. Twice. So please, no knee-jerk moves. In fact, it would be better if you took a seat”
He waited for Wilkins to sit down then continued.
“It was a no-brainer for me. The chance to end the running once and for all. There’s a little financial compensation, but that’s by-the-by. When this is over, I get my life back. So, to explain. The stuff I gave you yesterday was fake. I handed my stuff over weeks ago. Sutherland’s stuff is genuine, so I’ll hand that over as soon as possible.”
“But that still leaves you needing mine?”
“Ah, yes. Winters, Walker and Pardew, I believe. Your solicitors?”
“How?”
“I knew you’d run to deposit my stuff as soon as you could. We had you followed when you left here yesterday. And all of your documents are now in safe hands. It appears that Mr Pardew is somewhat beholden to The Circle. Funny how wide their reach seems to spread, isn’t it? If he hadn’t been so willing, they would have got the stuff anyway. It just happened to be a little easier than we’d hoped. So now, our friends in high places get all the documents and I get my freedom and my life back.”
“And me?”
“Well, if I were you, I would make a sharp getaway. They may be brash and flash and inappropriate for a man of your years, but your set of wheels seem geared up for just such an escape. Mind you, you’ll need to keep looking over your shoulder. I went voluntarily, whereas you, well, they may feel a bit of a grudge towards you.”
Wilkins began to say something but was silenced by Roberts finger closing down on the red emergency call button.
“I’ll see you in hell,”, he spat as he ran from the room, “and I won’t forget this. You’d better keep your eyes open as well.”
As the front door slammed shut, Roberts checked the room one last time, pocketed the mug that he had been drinking tea from and slipped out of the bungalow through the conservatory. He would be able to leave without being seen this way. As to Wilkins’ threat, it really didn’t faze him at all. By the time he’d met up with his contact at The Circle and handed over the documents, the police would likely already be attending the scene of the tragic accident in which a middle-aged man in a sports car appeared to have lost control and ploughed into a tree. They’d be able to identify him by the personal plate. In fact, they would probably have to as there was likely to be very little left of him at the scene. And with that, the Three Hombres would be down to one. And that one would forever be able to put behind him the indiscretions of the past.
Chapter Eleven
When the news of the containment of the evidence against them began to filter through, a wave of relief spread out across the fraternity of friends who had once been proud to be a part of The Circle. In reality, The Circle was more a series of concentric rings that centred on some very powerful names, but the ties that bound them were such that they knew they were all a part of one greater whole. Those on the outer edges had be
en able to carry out fairly normal lives despite the threat that had dangled over them. They received the news joyfully and celebrated in their own ways. For them, the past could now be buried.
Closer to the centre, things were not yet as certain. The documents had been analysed, their contents noted and then, they had been destroyed. It was safer that way. What worried some though, was that the entire operation had not yet succeeded. Carrington remained at large and there were sound reasons for that to be considered an equally challenging dilemma. He’d only ever wanted vengeance against the killers of his daughter, but the process that had led him to exacting that vengeance had placed him firmly within The Circle’s domain. He’d never raised a threat. It was entirely possible that he posed no threat. And yet, his still being around worried those who had most to lose. And then, there were the rumours of the data that he held.
Doctor Alan Llewellyn was just such a man. He wasn’t a household name and his lifestyle hadn’t been built on a public persona that needed to be maintained. But he was a doctor. A very successful doctor in fact. He oversaw a number of private clinics that catered to the needs of the wealthy and, as a consequence, he lived a millionaire’s lifestyle and he wanted to protect that. At the height of The Circle’s activities his medical skills had been called on at various times, usually to help with the disposal of their victims, although occasionally to treat those who had misjudged their ability to subdue those same victims. At the time, it had been worth it. They shared a passion and a lifestyle that couldn’t be satisfied by legal means and the universal justification that kept them going was that they were simply adapting to an inflexible moral and legal framework that didn’t share their values.
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