by Robert Young
*
He moved. He took everything he’d brought with him and shoved the briefcase that Lawson had brought with him into his holdall.
The guy on the desk gives him a neutral look when he tells him that he has misplaced his room key and that he didn’t even sleep in the room last night. This is the city that never sleeps after all, so the guy must get that from time to time. Campbell lays on the eye-rolls and the silly-me routine, bumbling Englishman.
He watches the man tap the keyboard, print out a bill for room 212 and accept Campbell’s cash payment and tip and hands the passport and credit card back to him.
Campbell melts into the crowds on the sidewalk and drifts along streets, thinking about his next move.
Hogg has sprung him out of an awful trap and he’s right to suggest that when the police get involved they’re unlikely to go looking much further than the bodies they have, a self explanatory situation that will require no TV style crime scene wizardry to understand. Finance guy from London with more money than sense in town for business, overdoes the cocaine and booze, freaks out and kills the hookers. Maybe she laughed at his little limey cock or maybe he just likes beating up on women and couldn’t stop once the coke got him started. Just a tiny amount of digging on Lawson should reveal he’s a young man with issues.
If Hogg can engineer a CCTV “malfunction” there would be no visual record of Campbell entering the suite with Lawson and the others and the computer would note that if for some reason anyone did actually ask about Daniel Campbell, he stayed in room 212 and the guy on the desk that processed his check-out would remember that he didn’t even sleep there that night, presumably got lucky somewhere, lost his key card in the chaos and came back to settle up and take his passport.
And yet, and yet.
Perhaps it was the hangover or maybe the cumulative effect of having been so relentlessly on his guard so long, but he didn’t feel relaxed and in the clear. Not yet.
Indeed, the more he thought on it, the more realised that he may never get that feeling again. Not hanging around in New York after that close a shave, and not with Michael Horner out there in the world, peddling his particular brand of unforgiving evil.
SEVENTY FOUR
Financial markets operated on something more important than money. More essential than dollars or euros, pounds or yen, the one thing that could make or ruin any organisation was confidence.
Not the sort that manifested in the cocky, sharp-suited traders in New York or London, or the type instilled by a large bonus or being headhunted by a competitor.
Confidence in the other party. If one company had confidence that their money was safe with another, then everything was fine. If the market had confidence that the shares in XYZ Trading were backed by accurate and reliable accounting figures and the profits were real and demonstrable, then the share price of XYZ would continue to trade high.
The moment that confidence failed however, things looked very different. If people start to lose faith in the security of a bank, that bank would find its access to capital markets shrink or close entirely. Or people would begin to withdraw their funds from it. Soon enough, once the ratio of debts to deposits began to skew too far in the wrong direction there would be a run on the bank and that bank would collapse.
When investors lost trust in the veracity of a company’s accounts or trading statements and began to suspect that it was in trouble, they’d dump their shares and the price would collapse, eventually taking the whole company with it.
This was the factor that had allowed Horner’s whole scheme to be conjured up from almost nothing. Some seed capital and a greased palm had got him a banking licence in an offshore financial centre and from there he could build his pyramid, the bank at the top, layering capital in all those other fake companies with the various names he’d dreamed up whilst staring out the window of his rented house.
The bank had - in the absence of any obvious evidence to the contrary - looked real and had started operating in the way a bank might be expected to. Lending to and investing in other companies. Those companies gained a sheen of credibility from that transaction, and from there he built the illusion of normality with the pattern of trading and investment that they all began to engage in. Never mind that the only trading that they did was with each other, a closed loop of fakery and fraud. They wouldn’t be around long enough for people to catch on or to spot the charade before it played to its conclusion. So small and unassuming were these firms in the grand scheme of things that they would catch no-one’s attention. Even if someone did take an interest, with such conveniently small amounts of issued shares, it would be impossible to get their hands on any stock; it would never be offered on the open market, having only changed hands within the loop.
Then, once the baying mob of vengeful, dangerous men the world over who wanted Horner dead after the humiliation of the last time he had attempted to do them a favour and had instead cost them all a small fortune, once they had their instructions and their fake stock in hand, the final steps of the scam would play out.
They would all place buy-orders into the system for these few company stocks. With so few of them available for sale this would bid up the price of the various shares, and the capital used for it would come from Horner’s bank and the trading accounts that Hogg had set up for all these men.
Then, they would place sell orders for the stocks they held and receive payment as they would any other such transaction. The payments would be routed to their own accounts, thereby shedding the suspicious appearance of the trading account in the tiny offshore bank, and taking on a semblance of respectability of the proceeds of a successful investment. They would have their money at last, and Horner will have secured their forgiveness through compensation.
More sell orders would follow, but this time with no buyers, the orders would go unfilled and the share price would fall until the companies had no material value.
In turn, the bank that held investments and debt with these companies would find its balance-sheet destroyed in short order and be left no option but to declare itself insolvent and cease operations.
Horner would step in then and claim his own prize. The Credit Default Swaps that Lawson had so diligently purchased would all pay out at this point, the financial institution that they were designed to insure having failed, thus triggering the claim. Horner would collect his winnings, the gamble of a lifetime coming good.
It was meticulous in the planning and preparation and he had ensured that by delegating the different elements to different people that his own name was absent from nearly every aspect. It would take a forensic accountant to find evidence in any paper trail of his own involvement. At the same time he had retained ultimate control of the whole operation from the top, commanding it like a Field Marshall, giving out orders and then claiming the glory of victory for himself, never once muddying his boots on the field of battle.
It was hours away now. Years in the conception and planning, building it carefully. From idea, to schematic, from framework to this full, final soaring construction, rendered real and tangible, long enough to make him free of worry of every kind.
Then it would collapse on itself, vanishing into dust, just a fleeting memory to remain of what had stood so briefly.
This calm before the storm was unbearable though, the final excruciating countdown.
Rookes had let him know that he had completed his assignment. Lawson had been eliminated, one less witness, one less liability. The scene had been set for Campbell’s downfall too. Exquisitely, intractably complete in all details, he would never explain away the dead women, the dead colleague. The drugs and the documents incriminating in the extreme.
There would be no quick release for Daniel Campbell now, no silent end at the ocean floor, no merciful bullet to the head. Horner’s bitter hatred had curdled so poisonously that simple death was no longer any revenge at all. He needed Campbell to suffer. He needed Campbell to know the fear and t
he torment that he had known these past three years. Cut off from any friends and family, in fear for your life every waking moment, terror permeating your dreams. He would repay what Campbell had inflicted on him with interest. Trapped in a very real prison, he would be prey to savage predators and they would afford no pity. He would live with the powerful, suffocating regret of ever having crossed Michael Horner. His name would be the last on Campbell’s lips.
But even savouring the taste of victory and vengeance could not keep his thoughts from the agonising wait and the minutes brought frustration and doubt as they stretched into hours. No matter that he knew the plan and the system that had been put in place, still he wondered if something might go awry at this late stage, so close to the end.
A nagging, uncomfortable feeling of deja vu had burrowed itself beneath his skin like a tick that had begun to feed and grow fat. This sense of anticipation, of helplessly watching and waiting, was not unlike the thing that had landed him here. The elaborate blackmail plot and the fraud that sat behind it, the troublesome young man who had appeared from nowhere and eventually pulled the whole thing crashing to the ground.
He had felt then, before his ruin, this same excitement and persistent fear as he awaited the last few pieces of the puzzle to slot unto place.
That time of course, he had underestimated Daniel Campbell and had trusted to fate. This time, he had built the whole thing around him, a yoke around his neck, a block of concrete for his sinking feet. He had played with him from the beginning, had him beaten and in fear and on the edge of exhaustion and paranoia. He had dragged him here and almost drowned him, had killed the girl that he had fallen for, just as he was supposed to. He had put Campbell at the centre of this huge fraudulent scheme and now, provoked by the other man’s tenacity and defiance, had added murder to the list of things for which he would stand accused. The yoke had become a noose.
So why did he still feel so sick with nerves?
SEVENTY FIVE
Campbell is on a train when it happens. He sits aboard a long northbound train out of New York as it snakes its way up along the Hudson River and through the Adirondack Mountains toward the Canadian border.
He tries to watch the scenery when there is scenery to watch and tries to read the paperback he’s picked up at the station when there isn’t. All the time his mind wanders back to what may or may not be happening with Horner’s scheme.
The final part is set up to unfold as everyone follows their instructions for trading at the right time and price. What is not in the plan is any outside influence. The trades and companies are inside that loop and closed to other market players. Or should be.
Except that Hogg has planted a seed or two of doubt and rumours have begun to spread. Rumours that Carl had heard and will have repeated. Campbell is certain that Carl will have quietly cancelled the CDS contract he had arranged with Horner and wonders whether he will also have passed his information on down the line. Will he have been able to resist the temptation to share it? The temptation to be the guy in the know, the guy doing a solid for some colleague or associate elsewhere in the industry.
Campbell knew that with enough of a tug on the thread, the whole thing would unravel. If other CDS contracts were pulled or voided, word could get to equity traders who might spot the trading activity in Horner’s firms and see it as suspicious or even as an opportunity to exploit. Knowing that the red-flag of a cancelled CDS - a red flag because suddenly the creditworthiness of these firms was being systematically thrown in the trash - meant you could follow this into the share price and expect a fall. You could trade on that by short-selling the stock and that in turn would push the price down. That would be the opportunity a trader would see. Then there would be sell orders in the system that were not supposed to be there, not anticipated by the plan.
In pretty short order it would need only a handful of traders in the real world to place a handful of trades to destroy the whole plan. The plan relied on the closed-loop controlling the prices and the timings. Remove that control – open the loop - and everything was vulnerable and a fast-moving market was ruthless with the vulnerable.
For much of the journey he was out of range of a decent phone signal and as he neared Canada and the light began to fade from the day he finally surrendered to his curiosity and checked his email account.
Sifting through spam he spotted two that made his stomach jump. Steve’s private email address was there and a short message. ‘Hope all is well buddy and you’re enjoying some Caribbean sunshine with the gorgeous new girlfriend - assume you went after all, since I never heard back from my “don’t get on the plane” message. But I do hate being right. Something very strange is happening with your stocks today. Get in touch. Steve.’
He felt a lump rise in his throat at the mention of Lisa, but he pushed it all back down and blinked away the image of her from his mind.
The other email was from Hogg and the subject line was empty.
He opened it and read the single word.
Meltdown.
SEVENTY SIX
He takes a cab across the border after the train stops on the American side. He’d half expected the train to pull up in full view of the Falls when they got to Niagara but the reality is a lot less eye-catching. A nondescript train station at the end of the line.
The border crossing takes next to no time as he hands over his documents to the guard and he’s so tense and braced for something awful that he can barely croak out a Thank you when he’s waved through.
He finds a hotel with a vacancy and pays in cash. They don’t ask him for his passport here and he’s happy enough to be in a place that’s a little more relaxed about such things, even if it also means they’re equally relaxed about comfort and cleanliness. It is only for the night though and he will be away in the morning.
He tries to check out what he can about the day’s events but from his phone handset he does not have access to the right systems and databases. In the end he doesn’t need to, texting Hogg to call him and getting an almost instant response.
‘You clear?’ asks Hogg.
‘I’m fine.’
‘Don’t tell me where.’
‘Of course.’
‘You seen nothing then?’
‘Only your email.’
‘OK, well, there’s not too much more to say than that. I got a sign that something was up late morning, watching some of the trading patterns and the orders being placed. Didn’t quite fit with what we should have been seeing. Thought maybe people weren’t following the instructions right, maybe they’d forgotten. But then it seemed like there was too much going on, not too little. Then it really accelerated. By the other side of lunchtime it was all done.’
‘Jesus, that fast?’
‘That fast. All the CDS are wiped out and all the share prices got shorted to oblivion. There’s nothing left.’
Campbell was silent awhile then, thinking on what that might mean. Horner would be ruined after that, his tarnished reputation now beyond repair. The various parties that stood to profit would be baffled by their lack of a result and might in turn begin to suspect that they had once again been made fools of by Michael Horner, even if they had not technically lost money this time.
The closed-loop nature of the scam would mean that it would all take place in a confined space within the market. No life-savings will have been on the line, no diligently saved pension fund, or the inheritance of a dear departed grandparent for the sake of a college education scorched to cinders in the furnace of the day’s trading.
It had come from nothing and gone back to nothing and any of the outside participants will have been big banks or hedge funds, institutional traders and those who could absorb any losses or scarcely notice the small profits that the small trades had brought. There would be many unfilled trade orders too, that would have pushed the price of the shares lower but ultimately done nothing more.
‘Hard to believe that’s it,’ he says.
&
nbsp; ‘Yeah, well, not quite. This won’t go unnoticed everywhere. Horner will need to deal with it in some way. And I daresay that Hari and Dusan won’t be content just walking away.’
‘My God,’ said Campbell, imagining their fury. ‘Well they’ll go for Horner first.’
‘Yup. That’s clearly what he’s thinking too.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He’s skipped out. Moved fast when he saw things coming unstuck and bolted.’
‘How do you know this?’
‘You’re forgetting how much access I had. Horner had me doing all sorts for him in the run up to this. He’s been living under a fake ID this whole time anyway, so as to stay out of sight of people like Hari.’
‘Of course. Figures.’
’So it should come as no surprise that he had others in reserve. I was tracking the three other names that I knew he had set up to use. I mean, he never said what they were for but it was clear what they were. In hindsight it’s clear that he’d created a lot of covers just in case one of the guys he was hiding from tracked him down.’
‘You kept notes?’ asked Campbell with a smile.
‘Sort of. Guy hired me for my technical creativity and ability to operate discreetly. So, you know… I did that.’
‘And what? One of those names booked a flight out of Grand Cayman that day?’
’Not quite,’ replied Hogg. ‘I mean, one of those names got on a plane that day. Flight was booked almost ten days ago.’
‘Can’t fault him for planning.’
‘Indeed. He covered his arse in case things went wrong. I guess he did learn a lesson from last time.’
‘Me too. Wherever he’s going now, whatever he plans to do next, I’m not safe. The only thing that drives him is his monstrous ego and he will not accept any outcome where he is bettered by someone he considers beneath him. I’ve done it twice to him now, slipped his trap and left him worse off. He isn’t going to let that go, no matter how long it takes him to get to me next time round.’
There was silence on the line for a moment. Hogg exhaled loudly. ‘Well, if you’re saying what I think you are, you’re going to ask me where he’s gone.’
Campbell said nothing. The very idea shocked him even as he realised its inescapable truth.
‘You are saying what I think you are, right Dan?’
‘One of us has to end it. His decision is already made.’
‘Dan. This is not the same as just bringing down a fraud scheme and screwing up his grand plan.’
‘No, it’s not. But I don’t see any other way.’
‘Look, just take a breath. You have all the money you need to disappear, for a long time. Do all the things you need to, you know. New name, new home. I can help with that, get you set up.’
‘Why should I?’ he snapped at Hogg. ‘Why am I running? Why am I giving everything up and hiding? I can’t live like that Caspar.’
‘But if you do this, you’ll have to live with it too. Are you sure you can?’
‘Better than living with not doing it.’
‘Just think it over is all I’m saying. Be sure before you act.’
‘I know Caspar. I already am. It’s the only way it will stop. And it’s the only way I can repay her.’
Somewhere down the line, he hears a muffled cough but cannot make out if Hogg has spoken or not in response to the mention of Lisa.
‘OK,’ says Hogg softly after a pause. ‘I’ll find him.’
‘Good. Thank you. And do it fast. Hari will be as pissed with me as with Horner. He’ll be looking for us both.’
‘Why not just let Hari have him then?’ says Hogg, brightening at the prospect of stepping back and letting someone else do the job.
‘You’re not worried that Hari’s guys will beat you to the punch on this one?’
‘I’m several steps ahead, but nice try with the attempt to provoke my sense of professional pride.’
‘Do this for me Caspar. Please.’
‘I’ve already said yes. I’ve got him flying into Heathrow at the moment under the name of Elliot Bennett. I’ll see if Elliot Bennett owns or rents any property in London, see if he’s heading for a bolthole. Maybe one of the other pseudonyms has something. I guess you need to head for London.’
‘I’ll get moving in the morning.’
By the time he wakes up, Hogg has emailed him a breakdown of his night’s work. He is booked on a flight out of Toronto that afternoon, as well as three other flights throughout the day, all of which are decoys for the benefit of Hari’s men scanning for Daniel Campbell’s traceable movements. He is variously heading to Frankfurt from New York, to Lima, Peru from Washington DC and as a mischievous fuck-you to Hari and Dusan, to the Malaysian capital of Kuala Lumpur. They may track all or none of those and they may or may not have the reach to try to intercept him in all those cities, but it’s enough to confuse the trail, and enough moreover to tell them that he knows that they’ll be looking.
In addition to that Hogg has carefully, and triumphantly, explained that whilst the Elliot Bennett lead went no further than the plane ticket, another of Horner’s aliases was named as controlling director of a company that owned one single asset; a flat in West London. There was an address.
SEVENTY SEVEN
He does not head there straight from the airport when he lands, though he is desperate to get there fast for fear of losing the trail. Instead he makes a phone call and then heads east across the city to get what he needs. He knows no-one else to ask for this and does not know what sort of reception he’ll get after so long.
The man he meets with he has not seen in over three years, and in truth did not expect ever to see again, but circumstances have forced him into doing things he’d rather not.
It is brief and straightforward and does not open with the warm embrace of old friends nor conclude with fondness. Daniel Campbell made this acquaintance in a time and place that seems a world away from now, but is perhaps not so very different.
George Gresham expresses surprise and exercises caution but once satisfied that Campbell has no ulterior motives, does what he is asked. Campbell saved his daughter’s life once. It is a debt that Gresham considers impossible to fully repay.
Campbell thanks him for agreeing and passes an address to Gresham.
‘I need you to pull up outside and then for all of you to get out of the car and make for the front door. Ring the bell, bang on the door. Make some noise.’
Gresham’s brow wrinkles a little. ‘What you up to?’
‘That’s it. That’s all. Just be there.’
‘You got yourself into trouble again? You got that same look in your eyes, afraid again.’
‘I attract it George.’
‘Just ring a doorbell?’
‘Make your presence known is all. I’ll do the rest.’
Gresham nods. ‘If there’s something need’s doing…’ he says, small but unmistakable emphasis on the word ‘something’.
‘I’ll do it,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘How’s Angie?’
‘Good. She’s getting married.’
‘That’s nice.’
‘Don’t push your luck. I’ve said yes, you can fuck off trying to twist my arm with all that.’
‘Just asking George.’
‘We’ll be there.’
When he takes his leave and heads west again, he feels the alien weight in his jacket, its odd angular shape and hardness. He feels another weight building too, low in his stomach, knotted and heavy. Can’t be helped though. No backing out now.
When he gets there he is struck by the down at heel nature of the place, realises he was half expecting some grand Georgian townhouse somewhere upmarket. Somewhere more befitting of Horner. But then that is surely the point of this, to look unlike the sort of place you would find him. He pulls his phone from his pocket and sends a message. “Go”.
It is not a secure building. It has been selected for its affordability and its anonymity. He finds t
he front door unlocked and follows the stairs up to the third floor and stands staring at the closed door, listening.
For a brief spell there is nothing to be heard and he feels a flash of relief that perhaps he will not have to go through with it, much as he knows he must. But then there is the shuffle of someone moving about beyond. He waits for it to fade and then he levels a kick at the point of the lock and lands it with all the pent up tension that has been boiling for days.
He hears the involuntary squeal of fear that Horner makes and follows the sound. If he has armed himself here as he did in Cayman, he has certainly not had time to grab it. He is not expecting to be found here. Not yet.
‘You bloody fool,’ spits Horner, angry and frightened at once. Angry because he’s frightened. ‘You bloody fool Campbell. Why haven’t you run for your life? Why haven’t you ended it?’
Campbell stares at him, eyes wide and burning with ferocious intensity.
‘Why have you come? What is this then, your big moment? Confront your nemesis? I thought more of you.’
‘The window.’
‘What?’
‘The window,’ Campbell says again. ‘Look out of it.’
Horner frowns, confused and irritated at the deflection. He holds eye contact for a few more seconds, as if to say he’ll look when he chooses to, not when he is bid.
Campbell breaks first and looks past Horner to the window that overlooks the street. Eventually Horner does so too.
As they look, a car sweeps up fast and stops sharp. The doors pop open and three men step out, all heavy-set and thick shouldered, all ominous-looking.
‘What is this?’ snaps Horner, the tiniest edge to his voice.
’You know that I’m not the only one after you Michael. You know how much effort Hari put in stalking you. Hari is short for Harimau, did you know that? It’s Malaysian for Tiger.’
Horner tries to muster a look of contempt but Campbell cuts him off.
‘Some hunter, no? These are Hari’s men,’ he says as he sees Gresham and his men swagger up the path to the front door. He sees Warren and Slater, Gresham’s right hand man and enforcer. They look little changed from when he last saw them all, and no less menacing.
‘Nonsense. You want me to believe you’re working with him? He’ll flay your flesh from your bones without a thought.’
Campbell was shaking his head. ‘No Michael, I’m not with him, I am merely here a step ahead.’ There is a shout and the harsh ring of a buzzer.
‘And why is that?’
‘To offer you a choice. You take your chances with Hari, or you take your chances with me.’
There is a pounding on the door downstairs and another shout.
Horner looks at him, then at his own door hanging open, the frame splintered. It will not even close again, let alone keep those men out.
‘With you?’
‘Quickly now. Me or them?’ Campbell cocks his head backwards at the clamouring sound of the men at the front door, then points at the window again. ‘You could of course take the quick way, end it fast.’
Horner’s eyes are flickering around, frantic with the decision he has to make, desperate to find a way out.
‘Fine. I’m not waiting for them,’ says Campbell and turns for the door. He climbs the stairs up a flight and hits the landing before he hears the sound of Horner following fast, his footsteps almost drowned by the sound of the front door opening and a bellowed shout bouncing off the walls of the stairwell.
Campbell doesn’t look back. He makes for the roof access door and pushes out into daylight.
Jogging across the roof he heads for the iron railings of the fire escape ladder and slows his pace a little as he hears Horner giving chase.
‘Come on,’ he says and descends the ladder to a roof lower down. He crosses that and moves to the edge to peer over. He can see the car with its open doors but there is no sign of Gresham or his men. Horner pulls level and sees it too.
‘Shit. Come on then, where now?’ says Horner.
Campbell leads him down another ladder and into a walled alleyway. From there they scale a wall and drop into an enclosed courtyard and Campbell, like he’s reading from a detailed map committed to memory, spots a manhole cover.
‘Down,’ he says as he grabs pole from a rusting pile of detritus and wrenches it up. Horner takes the edge and helps lift.
‘You first,’ he sneers, like he’s not going to simply jump down a hole and let Campbell drop the lid on him.
Campbell shrugs and begins descending the recessed steps in the narrow hole.
He splashes through the low space of the storm drain without waiting. He hits the corner and rounds the bend and he hears Horner drop down behind him into the shallow water.
It is much darker here and he presses himself into the curve of the wall and waits. Horner looms into view, a silhouette in the gloom. Campbell sees Horner’s hand out in front of him, feeling his way blind in the darkness. He sees the gun in the other hand and lets Horner pass him.
Two more steps, three. ‘Campbell! Where did you go?’
Campbell answers by pressing the cold barrel of the gun Gresham gave him into the nape of Horner’s neck. He reaches down and relieves Horner of his own weapon and tosses it behind him into the wet muck on the floor where it splashes and skitters uselessly into darkness.
‘I see,’ he says. ‘And is this it? Do you finally have the balls for it Daniel, to do something decisive? Here, cowering underground, luring a man into a trap like a coward.’
Campbell gave a snort of contempt. ‘Talking of traps and cowardice without a hint of irony.’
‘Enjoy your moment, before the Tiger comes for you and you have to start running again. Go scampering across more rooftops and hiding in sewers when they catch up with you.’
‘Those weren’t Hari’s men. They were with me Michael. I just invited them along for a little drama. They’ll be on their way home by now. It’s just us.’
‘Here in the damp stinking dark. Some victory.’
‘Here in the dark Michael, where you will die in solitude and anonymity. There will be no infamy or notoriety for you in death, no blaze of glory. You will not be remembered. If they ever find you it will be whatever the rats don’t want.’
Even in the dark he could see the furious indignation twisting Horner’s face.
‘You aren’t going to do it. You aren’t going to do a thing. I’ve devoured bigger men than you, I’ve devoured them whole and spewed them back out again-‘
He’d known that in such a confined space it would be loud but all the same the sound of the shot took Campbell by surprise. He was surprised to that he’d even pulled the trigger.
It took Horner in the gut and he dropped to his knees, the wind punched out of him and the sound of ragged breath through the exit wound.
‘Beg now Michael,’ Campbell said through ringing ears. He chewed back the grief and desolation as it clawed its way to the surface. ‘Beg!’
Campbell thrust the gun forward against Horner’s forehead and shouted again.
‘Beg her for forgiveness, with your last breath. Tell her you’re sorry!’ Campbell roared, his voice bouncing of the brick walls, echoing through his deafness. ‘Plead with her Michael, on your fucking knees!’
‘Oh God,’ whimpered Horner as he clawed at the wound in his stomach, the reality finally striking home. ‘Oh God, please.’
‘Beg.’
‘Please. Please.’
‘No,’ said Campbell and he fired again as his tears were lost in the blackness.
EPILOGUE
There was no more time to waste on giving chase once the pyramid collapsed. Hari had things to attend to in his own back yard and once Horner had followed Hogg and Campbell in disappearing, it would have been an emotional decision to give pursuit, not a rational one.
Better to get back to the more pressing business that had been neglected these past days in the Caribbean. Hari had lost nothing financially, ha
d risked nothing of his own wealth on Horner’s plot and in the cold light of day, knew he was no worse off than anyone else that the Englishman had sucked into his elaborate plan.
Fleeing the scene was the act of a guilty man nonetheless, and Horner had taken flight from the consequences rather than face them with some scrap of dignity.
In truth, Hari was never going to let him live even if the whole affair had run smoothly and to a successful conclusion. He was dead the moment that Dusan had picked up his trail and found his hiding place. After that it was a matter of time.
In that respect nought had changed. Horner would go to ground again, hide again. Once more he would be found, one way or another. Maybe someone would beat Hari to it this time, perhaps they would deny him the satisfaction of doing it himself. That was of no consequence ultimately. The fact was unalterable.
Of greater interest was the younger man. Once Horner had brought him into the mix everything had changed. His tenacity and spirit had impressed Hari greatly, though he was as much to blame as Horner for the failure of the scam.
He too would be found and soon. He lacked the resources and the experience of Horner and would surely not stay hidden for long. They had ignored it when he’d popped up booked onto four separate flights on the same day. Hari had taken it as a diversionary measure; he might be on one of those flights or none at all, but the mere fact he’d done it meant he knew he would be watched.
Hari hadn’t made up his mind yet on his next move. He hadn’t decided if he wanted to punish Campbell for his part in the failed fraud and the money Hari had missed out on, or whether it might be better to make use of such a man and his considerable skills.
But a decision would be reached in due course, and before that awaited the thrill of the hunt.
The End
Daniel Campbell will return in Troubleshooter.
