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‘I don’t get the point, why was that significant?’

‘Because what Mike spotted, was the date of the interview. When Dundas said that, Anna’s body hadn’t been found. She was still technically no more than a missing person. So how did Dundas know her throat had been slit? How did he know she’d been dumped in the sea? The bloodstains in her car could just as easily have been there if she’d been shot, her body could have been buried. Mike checked back and found Moran had been interviewed the previous day, during which he used the very same phrase. In other words Moran knew precisely how Anna Marshall had been killed. He directed Dundas to that line of questioning.’

‘What alternatives does that leave?’

‘I’m not going to discount the police option altogether,’ Marshall said. ‘I just don’t think it’s sensible to rely on it exclusively.’

‘That doesn’t answer Barry’s question,’ Lisa pointed out.

‘About the alternatives? Well, there’s the press for one. But they’ve to be extremely careful about libel. They’d probably need stronger evidence than the police. Launching a full-scale press investigation would take weeks, if not months. We don’t have that long.’

‘No other way that springs to mind, I suppose?’

Marshall eyed Lisa suspiciously. The question had been posed innocently, a little too innocently perhaps. ‘There’s always
the possibility of resolving matters ourselves.’

‘Ah yes,’ Lisa said. ‘I wondered when we’d get round to that option. But tell me something, with your background in civil engineering, you’ve been able to work out all this, but what about the third person?’

‘What third person?’ the others chorused.

‘There must be a third person involved. If a substantial number of people are receiving bribes they’d need a paymaster. Someone to act as go-between, to protect Harrison’s and Corps’s identities.’

‘Couldn’t they have done it anonymously? Like Brown’s payment?’ Barry asked.

Lisa shook her head. ‘No, there’s a world of a difference between the payments to Brown and the way the bribes would be handled. Brown’s payments were made to a criminal who’d set up an elaborate network of bank accounts to obscure the money laundering. The people getting the bribes aren’t
criminals
as such. They’ll appear to be perfectly respectable. Upright citizens doing normal nine-to-five jobs. The payment to them would have to be untraceable. That means cash, and Corps and Harrison would need someone to dole out the funds.’

‘OK, I buy that,’ Marshall agreed. ‘I see your point, but I was thinking there’s someone else, a fourth man.’

‘Why?’ Barry looked even more confused.

‘There’s another part of the scheme Corps and Harrison couldn’t have carried out for themselves; the industrial sabotage.’

‘Why not?’ Shirley asked.

‘Because they wouldn’t want to risk being caught and they don’t have the practical knowledge. You’ve already heard my opinion of Corps. Harrison’s an office man, a financial expert, and wouldn’t know one end of an excavator from a camel’s backside, if it was painted yellow.’

‘If there were two others involved, that would leave Corps and Harrison vulnerable to exposure. You know, “when thieves fall out”, that sort of thing,’ Lisa suggested.

‘The difference is, these men wouldn’t be outsiders. They have to know both the industry and Broadwood’s operations.
Which means Rourke has more than one viper in his nest.’

‘If you’re right, Corps and Harrison would still be vulnerable.’

‘Maybe, maybe not; perhaps they have some hold over these men that will ensure their silence. Exposure would be bad enough for Corps and Harrison, but it could be equally bad for the others. And they had the fall-back situation, where they could threaten a visit from Brown.’

‘How do you plan to find these men?’ Lisa asked.

‘I wouldn’t think that’s too difficult. Rourke always kept management as streamlined as possible. So there won’t be many to choose from. However, that isn’t the only unresolved issue.’

‘What more can there be?’ Barry asked.

‘One more death that must be connected, but for the life of me I can’t see how. Think about the murders Brown’s committed that are linked to all this. The motive’s now become clear. All except for one: Gary Watson. What was the motive for his murder?’

‘I’m lost,’ Barry confessed.

‘Gary Watson was the Broadwood employee who fell to his death from the top of a Broadwood building site,’ Lisa told him.

‘I remember now. You said his death was made to look like an accident,’ Shirley recalled.

‘Right, but we don’t know the motive for Watson’s murder.’

‘Might they have needed to silence him?’ Lisa wondered.

‘Highly unlikely, Watson was a site foreman. He wouldn’t have been in a position to find out anything damaging. As far as the running of Broadwood was concerned he would have little or no weight.’

‘He may have accidentally seen or heard something perhaps?’ Barry persisted.

‘Very improbable. The likes of Harrison or Corps rarely find themselves in the company of site workers such as Watson. The chances of him stumbling on anything incriminating would be extremely remote. I think we have to look elsewhere for the motive behind Watson’s murder. Trouble is, I’m not sure where.’

‘I’m beginning to see what you meant when you said you need more evidence,’ Lisa agreed.

‘It might help if you had a plan,’ Barry suggested.

Lisa groaned. ‘Don’t even think it. Alan’s plans frighten me silly.’

Marshall grinned. ‘The idea of burgling Corps’ or Harrison’s house to get the evidence has crossed my mind.’ He smiled at Lisa. ‘But I don’t need to involve you if it frightens you.’

‘That’s a lousy thing to say,’ Lisa told him indignantly. ‘I went all the way to Leeds and back, risking arrest for harbouring a fugitive. I aided and abetted you whilst you broke into Hobbs and Hirst’s offices, drove the getaway car, and you have the nerve to say: “if it frightens you”. Everything you do frightens me. That doesn’t mean I’m going to back off helping.’

They were still debating the issue when Lisa’s mobile rang.

‘Hello, Mike. Yes, but we’re a bit tired.’ She listened to what Nash had to say. ‘OK, I’ll ring you back a bit later, we’ve got the information, and Alan has a germ of an idea.’ She closed her phone. ‘Nash wanted to know what progress we’ve made,’ she explained.

By late morning their plans were made. ‘I vote we grab a couple of hours’ sleep,’ Marshall suggested.

‘Whilst you two have a nap I’ll check out the information we need,’ Barry told them.

‘Are you sure this is the right way to go about it?’ Lisa asked. ‘After all, it’s been a long time?’

‘I’m absolutely certain. It’s high time I talked to Harry Rourke again.’

Marshall slept on the settee in the Dickinsons’ lounge, whilst Lisa retired to the spare room. Lisa was undoubtedly more comfortable, but her companion had deserted her. Nell curled up on the rug alongside her master.

When he woke up Marshall went through to the kitchen. Shirley and Barry were seated at the table. Their expressions were serious. ‘There’s been an item on the news,’ Barry told him. ‘We heard it on the local radio. Officers from the Serious Fraud Office raided Broadwood Construction this morning. Apparently they’re still there, examining documents.’

‘I’d better wake Lisa, get her to phone Nash,’ Marshall said
immediately. ‘This could scupper our plans unless we nip it in the bud.’

‘I’ll go,’ Barry said, but subsided in his chair as Shirley kicked his ankle.

‘What was that for?’ he asked when Marshall had left the room.

‘Sometimes, Barry, you fail to see what’s under your nose. How you manage as a keeper, I’ll never know.’

‘You mean, Alan and Lisa…?’

‘Of course. Why do you think she’s gone to all this trouble for him, risking her career and everything?’

‘Oh,’ Barry said. There didn’t seem to be anything else to say.

Marshall looked down at Lisa. He’d knocked on the door but failed to rouse her. Seeing her asleep, he was reluctant to wake her, but knew it was necessary. For the first time he realized what an attractive woman she was. Not only that, but she’d risked so much for him. He reached forward and shook her shoulder gently. ‘Lisa, it’s Alan. Wake up. We’ve things to do.’

She opened her eyes and smiled. ‘Gosh, I was well away.’ She sat up, the duvet slipping enough to expose her breasts. Marshall turned away, the glimpse of her semi-nakedness, despite the bra, acutely embarrassing. He could feel the blood pounding in his ears.

‘What’s the problem?’ she asked as she pulled hastily at the duvet.

Marshall explained.

‘Right, let’s see what we can do. Do you mind?’ She thrust back the duvet and slid her legs over the side of the bed. As she dressed, Marshall turned his back, suddenly aware of a hunger he’d thought long dead.

Lisa Andrews’ car stopped at the end of the lane. The watching officers had plenty of time to take in the registration number from the safety of their car. The leader had chance to focus his binoculars on the driver and establish that Lisa was alone in the vehicle. ‘OK, this is it.’ They followed her to Netherdale, maintaining a discreet distance. They followed her car into the Netherdale railway station car park. They followed Lisa after she left the vehicle and headed into the concourse. They followed her to the ticket office, heard her purchase a return ticket to Leeds and bought two for themselves. They followed her on to the train and took seats in the carriage behind hers. At the next station they watched Lisa leave the train and followed her on to the platform. When they left the station they saw her climb into the Dickinsons’ Land Rover. They looked round in desperation for a taxi, but the rank was empty. When they caught sight of the man driving the Land Rover, they reached for their mobile phones. It was undoubtedly Alan Marshall. He’d made no attempt to disguise himself. Sadly, hoodwinked once again by the fugitive’s duplicity, they were unable to follow him.

Urgent messages were passed to all units in the area. Half an hour later the Land Rover was stopped, much to the surprise of its occupants: Barry and Shirley Dickinson.

Confident of the way the deception had been carried out, the police broadcast an alert for Shirley Dickinson’s car. Later that evening they discovered it, in the car park of the next railway station down the line.

Mike Nash was driving. ‘That was a brilliant piece of deception, which one of you thought it up?’

‘I seem to get the blame for everything, according to Lisa,’ Marshall replied, ‘so I’d better own up to that as well.’

As they neared their destination Lisa sensed a change in Marshall’s mood. He seemed tense. ‘You’re not nervous are you?’

‘Not really,’ Marshall replied. ‘I used to like Harry, until he turned on me. That hurt at the time because it was so out of character. If it had been anyone else I mightn’t have cared, but I was vulnerable; Harry deserting me was the last straw. I’m not saying I lost the will to fight but it all seemed hopeless.’

When they reached the outskirts of Leeds, Marshall directed Nash to take the ring road towards the western edge of the sprawling city. The evening rush hour had passed, so their progress was relatively quick. They followed a local signpost that pointed the way to a village named Calverley, in the no man’s land between Leeds and Bradford. Although it was dark, Lisa could see that the built-up area had given way to fields and small wooded copses. She was surprised how closely the countryside encroached towards the city. They switched to a smaller road, similar to one of the country lanes around Kirk Bolton. After they’d driven for about ten minutes, they pulled to a halt at the end of a long tarmac drive. Large wrought iron gates blocked their way. ‘Looks as if we’re on foot from here,’ Nash commented, pointing to a pedestrian gate alongside the main ones.

A quartet of motion-sensitive security lights sprang to life as they walked towards the front of the house, bathing the whole area in a stark halogen glow. Behind these Lisa could see a large, stone-built farmhouse, its exterior soot-blackened to match the walls alongside the drive. They walked unchallenged across the tarmac to the front door. Marshall pressed the bell and they heard the chimes resounding within the building.

Dinner had been eaten in silence. In Tara’s case it was
diplomatic
. In Harry’s case sullen. During the first few minutes Tara tried one or two conversational openings but without response. Eventually she demanded, ‘What’s gone wrong now?’

‘I’ve had the quarterly figures from the accountant,’ he told her bitterly. ‘I’ve only looked at the bottom line so far and that’s
bad enough. On top of that, there’s this bloody investigation by the Serious Fraud Office.’

‘What happened there?’

‘It was totally weird. They arrived mob-handed, started going through all our files, pulling out contract after contract, examining them. Then, all of a sudden, the bloke in charge got a phone call, following which they upped sticks and departed. Without a word of explanation, just warned us they’d be back, and took all the stuff they’d been looking at with them.’

When the meal was over he stood up. ‘I’m going into my study to look through this report properly. Then I’ve got to decide what I’m going to do. I don’t want to be disturbed by anything or anybody. Got it?’

‘Yes, Harry. If I come in, you’ll know the house is burning down.’

That had been an hour ago. Now Tara hurried to answer the door before the caller had chance to press the bell again. Harry’s temper and patience were almost exhausted.

She opened the door and stared at the trio standing there. She thought momentarily of Jehovah’s Witnesses; then discounted the idea. Admittedly one of the men was carrying a folder, but they didn’t seem the type. If anything, they seemed threatening. One of the men was dressed in black, which contributed to the image. The presence of the woman was comforting, if only slightly.

‘Yes?’ Tara asked nervously.

‘Is Harry about?’ the man standing directly in front asked. Tara looked at the speaker properly. There was something vaguely familiar about him.

‘He left instructions he wasn’t to be disturbed,’ Tara told them. God, she thought. I sound like a bloody butler.

‘I think he’ll want to see us,’ the man insisted.

‘I’ve told you. He can’t be disturbed,’ Tara answered coldly. She made to close the door.

The move was blocked by the second of the men, the silent one. He braced the door with one arm.

Tara pushed but to no avail.

‘Harry will want to be interrupted, once he knows who we
are and why we’re here,’ the speaker insisted.

‘I’ve told you twice. Harry said no calls, no visitors. Please leave.’ Tara pushed against the door again, but with no success.

‘I’m sorry,’ the second man said, as he leaned on the door. Tara found it opening despite her resistance. Then the trio was inside the hall. Tara was on the verge of panic. The woman spoke for the first time.

‘Don’t worry. This is for his benefit. We’ll tell him you did your best to stop us.’

‘Where’s Harry lurking?’ the first man asked.

‘I’ll tell him you’re here.’ The last semblance of Tara’s resistance crumbled. ‘Who shall I say wants to see him?’

‘No. We’ll announce ourselves. Just tell us where to find him.’

‘Don’t be scared. We’re not here to harm him,’ the woman added.

Tara was scared, not only that they would hurt Harry but her as well. She pointed to a door leading off from the hall.

Rourke was staring intently at the computer screen. He didn’t look up when the study door opened. ‘I told you I wasn’t to be disturbed.’

‘That’s not a nice greeting for an old friend, Harry.’

Rourke looked up at the strange voice. His study seemed crowded. He briefly noticed Tara, hovering nervously in the doorway, uncertain whether to venture in or stay outside. Her indecision might have been influenced by the man standing directly behind her. Harry transferred his gaze to the man and woman directly in front of him. He didn’t know the woman, but when he focused on the man, recognition came immediately. ‘Alan Marshall! What the hell are you doing here?’

‘That’s a damned good question, Harry. I reckon you’re the only one who can answer it.’

The cryptic remark was lost on Rourke. ‘I thought you were wanted by the police? I can’t believe you’ve suddenly appeared. You’ve picked the worst possible time for a social visit. Who are these people with you?’

‘I’m sorry, this is Lisa Andrews. She has a vested interest in what happens to me. Lisa, this is Harry Rourke. Rourke owns
Broadwood Construction. He used to employ me. Rourke was the man who sacked me after I was charged with Anna’s murder. A very caring soul, is Harry.’

Marshall turned to face Tara. ‘I’m sorry if we scared you, but we need to talk to Harry and I wanted to surprise him. It’s been nearly ten years since he fired me. He might have forgotten me.’ He held out his hand to her. ‘I’m Alan Marshall and this is Lisa.’

‘I’m Tara,’ she replied cautiously, shaking hands.

‘What did you say about sacking you?’ Rourke stood up and came round the side of the desk.

When Marshall replied the bitterness in his voice was apparent. ‘So you can’t remember? I suppose I was just some worker who’d proved unreliable by getting arrested. OK, so just sit in your fancy office and have him sacked. Don’t give him the satisfaction of a personal letter. That might make him feel as if somebody cared. Instead, have the company secretary send him a little note telling him he was in breach of contract and that his contract had been terminated. Send it care of his prison cell.’

‘Harry, you didn’t do that. Tell me you didn’t,’ Tara sounded disgusted.

‘No, I bloody well didn’t.’ It was Rourke’s turn to be angry. ‘I’m not sure if it’s your memory or your brain that’s failing, but you’ve got the facts all wrong. I didn’t sack you, you resigned. I was all set to visit you. I’d requested permission for a prison visit; then you resigned. That seemed as if you were admitting you were guilty. I lost interest in you then.’

‘No, Harry, it’s you who’ve got it wrong,’ Marshall told him quietly. ‘But I can understand why. Tell me, how did you know I’d resigned?’

‘You sent a letter.’

‘Did you see it?’

‘I didn’t see it myself. I was told about it.’

‘If I were to tell you the statement about that letter of resignation was a lie, designed to prevent you contacting me, what would your reaction be?’

‘I’d say, prove it.’

There was a long silence as Marshall looked at his former
employer. Then he reached inside the folder he was carrying. ‘I’m not one for keeping souvenirs, but for some masochistic reason I kept this.’

He produced a single sheet of paper and passed it to Rourke. Rourke stared at the tersely worded note. ‘Like I said, Harry, you were deceived, just as I was. We were taken in by a very cunning, devious and ruthless man who’ll go to any lengths to get what he wants. I think it would be best if you were to sit down. I’ve a few more shocks for you.’

Tara suggested they move into the lounge, where Lisa looked round appreciatively. The leather suite, comprising a couple of three-seater settees and four armchairs, didn’t overcrowd the large room. Expensive-looking occasional tables adorned with lamps were distributed randomly around. The curtains were luxurious, as was the carpet.

‘Why are you here?’ Rourke asked wearily. ‘Apart from finding out whether or not I fired you? This is a really bad time for me, and I can do without the police thinking I’m involved in helping you escape.’

‘I understand how bad a time this is for you. But I shouldn’t worry about the police.’ Marshall glanced sideways, a smile fleetingly appearing on his face. ‘This isn’t a social visit, Harry, far from it. This is business, pure and simple. Except that it isn’t pure and it’s far from simple.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘You’ve been having a rough time recently, haven’t you? Things have been going wrong, and it’s getting worse. You’ve been losing contracts you should have won. Big contracts too, and that’s worrying you. Then all this vandalism on top: sabotage, which was aimed at uninsured risks. I bet the bill for that runs into millions? And now the SFO is investigating you. Things must have got pretty bad. Almost enough for you to consider a takeover bid. Or you would do, if the offer price wasn’t so ludicrously low.’

Rourke’s head jerked up at the last sentence. ‘How the hell did you know that?’

‘I not only know about it. I know who the bidder is and the
price they’re offering. I even have a copy of the offer document.’

‘How did you get that? Don’t tell me you’re mixed up in this? Is this some perverted sort of revenge?’

‘That’s a fairly low opinion you’ve got of me, Harry. I’m not mixed up in it. At least not in the way you mean. Didn’t you ever think that all these events were linked?’

Rourke was past words. He merely shook his head.

‘Well they are, and I can prove it. And if you think that’s bad, there’s worse to come.’

‘How could it possibly get worse?’ Tara interrupted.

‘Believe me, it does. And it would have succeeded, but for a little bit of luck. Imagine a scenario where you’ve received a bid for the company, but the offer is too low, even as things are. I guess you’d stick out for a better offer, but the bidders don’t want to pay more than they need. They may even retract and get Broadwood for less. How do you think they’d go about that?’

Rourke shook his head, bewildered.

‘Simple; they arrange the one event that would guarantee the collapse of Broadwood Construction: the removal of Harry Rourke. They could have you killed, but they had a better idea. What would happen to Broadwood if you weren’t there to run it, Harry? If, for example; you were serving a life sentence for murder?’

Rourke’s expression changed as Marshall explained. From disbelief to incredulity; from incredulity to acceptance; from acceptance to anger. It took three repetitions of the plot before Rourke grasped it fully. That was when the anger kicked in. ‘Tell me who’s behind this. Tell me and I’ll kill the fucking bastards with my bare hands.’

‘Join the queue!’ Marshall told him. ‘Some of us have prior claims.’

Rourke looked at him in astonishment. ‘You mean Anna’s death was connected to this? All that time ago? It’s been going on that long?’

Marshall nodded. ‘Anna discovered the plot and had to be silenced. I had to be framed for her murder to prevent me snooping around. Before I go any further, I’ve a question for
you. There’s one aspect of the whole business that still puzzles me.’

‘Fire away.’

‘Don’t use the word “fire”, it makes me twitch. I want to know everything you can tell me about Gary Watson.’

Rourke stared at Marshall open-mouthed. ‘Gary Watson?’ he echoed, ‘You mean the foreman on the Wharfside development, the one who fell from the building?’

Marshall shook his head. ‘Not fell. Gary Watson was murdered. Thrown off that building, his death arranged to look like an accident. The killer’s confessed to Watson’s murder along with all the others.’