by Oliver Tidy
‘Welcome,’ he said.
Bishop had removed his sunglasses on the way in and so Sansom was treated to the rewarding spectacle of his face simultaneously paling by several shades and sagging an inch. In the time it took him to find his voice he had aged ten years.
‘Sansom.’
‘You remembered this time. I’m touched. But perhaps not as you might have hoped, eh? Armed and just a bit miffed with you at the way things have turned out.’ Sansom wagged the pistol reproachfully at him.
Bishop looked back at Smith to see that, despite his own predicament, he was almost smirking. Sansom understood that Smith was viewing Bishop’s realisation of his position with almost as much satisfaction as he was.
‘Take a seat,’ said Sansom. ‘You look like you need it.’
Bishop looked about to protest but then, seeming to accept the futility of this course of action, merely moved slowly across to the chair next to Smith that Sansom had indicated with the pistol. As he sat, he sent Smith an angry look. Smith shrugged back as if to say, ‘look at me, what could I do?’
Given his own situation, Smith was genuinely pleased to see Bishop. He hoped that not only would the politician’s presence deflect some of Sansom’s volatile and spontaneous outbursts of rage but also that the division of his attention might provide Smith with an opportunity to work on his restraints beneath his covering. The last thing he intended to do was to sit and wait passively to see how this was going to end. It would probably be badly, but he’d sooner take some responsibility for that than not.
‘What do you want?’ said Bishop, striving for some command of himself and the situation.
Sansom understood that Bishop immediately saw his position as something that he might be able to bargain, worm or buy his way out of. He adopted a hurt expression. ‘That’s not much of a greeting, is it? Where are your manners? After all I’ve done for you. Tut tut. Still, perhaps it’s not such a bad place to start. Smith here keeps telling me how all this has just been business – nothing personal. So let’s keep it businesslike, shall we? Keep our emotions out of it. Tell me, Mr Bishop, what would you want in my position? I mean, my wife and child have been murdered, I lost a year of my life on a desert island, I’ve lost my career, I stand accused – wrongly as we all know – of, what is it, six counts of cold-blooded murder in the UK alone? I’m not including any of your lot in that, by the way,’ he said, looking at Smith. ‘You’ll have to take my word for it that they were in self-defence. You could say that I’ve been robbed of my past, my present and my future. So, I repeat, if you were me, what would you want to feel better about all that?’
Bishop opened his mouth and his jaw worked a couple of times but no sound came out. Then he said, ‘You can’t hold us responsible for what happened to your family.’
Sansom put his head on one side and looked directly at Bishop. When he spoke he gestured with the pistol as a gentle reminder of who was in charge and with what authority. ‘A little piece of advice you would be wise to follow while you are my guest: don’t say anything stupid like that again. While we’re at it, don’t lie to me, don’t speak down to me and don’t treat me like I’m a fool. I’m going to make you the same generous offer that I’ve made Smith: you do not need to die here today. Do you want to die, Mr Bishop?’
‘No,’ he answered simply.
‘Good. You are a wealthy man, aren’t you?’ Bishop hesitated and then nodded once. Some of the colour had returned to his cheeks. ‘These days I’m a realist. There is no getting anything back that I’ve lost. Smith here assures me that it would be impossible for you to testify in favour of my innocence without implicating yourself up to – what was it you said, Smith – “his dirty neck?” As a realist, I have to accept that. And even if I could get you to testify, what would I stand to gain from that, assuming it all went well for me and I was fully exonerated from all wrong-doing, that is? What would be in it for me? I’d watch you two ruined and then I‘d walk into the waiting arms of the military and the civilian police. I’d still have things to answer for. My life would be further complicated and delayed for who knows how long. And after that, what would await me? A life of poverty and struggle. I think I deserve better than that given my personal losses and the inconvenience I’ve suffered. And all the justice in the world wouldn’t bring anyone back.’
‘So what do you want? Money?’ said Bishop. He said it like he hardly dared to believe it.
‘From you, yes. From Smith I want a new identity and a way out to a country that has no extradition arrangement with the UK. I told you that I still needed you,’ he said in Smith’s direction. ‘Now, just to make sure that we are all clear about everything, if I don’t truly feel that you both want to help me; if I feel that there is less than one hundred percent commitment to my proposal then you will both die here – a little ironic really when you consider the atrocity that you have already sponsored or at least connived in here – and I will take my chances. Sheep and lambs and all that.’
Sansom detected a slight change in Bishop’s posture. He had stirred from shrunken, fearful and defeated to something more encouraged. Next to him, still bound, Smith maintained his stern and intractable façade.
‘And how exactly do you propose to orchestrate all that?’ Smith said. ‘We’re just going to give you our word on things, are we? You’re going to accept it, we all shake hands and everyone goes home?’
‘Glad to see you’re thinking logically,’ said Sansom. ‘Naturally, I’ll be taking out some insurance that encourages you both to keep your ends of things.’
‘What insurance?’ said Bishop.
Sansom held up a hand. ‘Before we go into all that I want to hear what you’ve got to say.’
‘What do you think we’re going to say?’ said Smith. ‘Of course we’re going to agree to anything if the alternative is being shot to death. I can get you anywhere in the world without anyone knowing. You can choose who you want to be. The service can also contribute financially to your relocation.’
‘And you?’ said Sansom to Bishop.
‘How much?’
‘Three million: a million for each of my past, my present and my future. Every man has his price, even for his life, and that’s mine.’
‘It’ll take time to get that kind of money together.’
‘I understand. I’m a realist, remember. What I need to know is whether you agree to it or not?’
‘What is the insurance?’ asked Bishop, again.
‘Your testimonies.’ He let that settle. ‘You will both provide testimony to how I became involved in this and to my innocence in all the murders. In fact, what I want is just the truth. About everything.’
‘What? Didn’t you just say that you know we can’t do that?’ said Bishop, instantly regretting his tone. Sansom pushed away from the wall towards him. Bishop put his arms up to protect his head and Sansom kicked him hard in his shin. The politician barked in agony.
Sansom returned to the wall. ‘I warned you,’ he said. ‘Watch your tone when you’re talking to me.’
Bishop bent over and held his leg, grimacing and trying to rub the pain away.
‘The point remains,’ said Smith, neutrally.
‘I said I appreciate that I can’t make you testify. But you can still provide me with testimonies. Your testimonies would be my insurance that you would deliver on your promises. If you don’t deliver then I release the testimonies and you are ruined.’
Smith asked the obvious question, ‘What would stop you taking this insurance and everything you’re demanding from us then releasing the testimonies and ruining us anyway?’
‘Two things. Firstly, you are going to fake my death. I don’t care how but Acer Sansom is going to be very publicly killed off. When I’m dead and buried I want to stay that way. I’ve had enough excitement for one life. If you give me a new identity you’ll know that I’m alive. You’ll know all about me and if I renege on our arrangement you’ll be able to expose me. And with the blood of
your operatives on my hands I have my own good reasons for disappearing without trace. Secondly, you’ll have to trust me.’
Smith stifled a snort and Sansom looked balefully in his direction.
‘What form will this testimony take?’ said Bishop, who was recovering himself and believing that he saw a possible way out of the house with his life and reputation intact – something that he had given up hope of as soon as he had laid eyes on Sansom holding a firearm.
‘Video. As a mark of good faith, I’m not even going to insist that you incriminate yourselves. All I want is my name cleared. Of course, I won’t pretend that you could come out of it looking squeaky clean but neither will you be wearing ‘“guilty”’ signs around your necks if you don’t want to. That’s up to you. I’m sure you’re used to playing with words to get you out of things. That’s a politician’s stock in trade, isn’t it?’
‘It would never be admissible in court,’ said Smith, voicing Bishop’s thoughts. Bishop shot him a look that told him to shut up.
‘I know that. The way I see it, it wouldn’t have to be and in any case the British justice system is built on people like Bishop. I’m sure he’d be able to wheedle his well-connected way out of it. Maybe fake a bout of Alzheimer’s and then go on to make a miraculous recovery. He wouldn’t be the first. No, it would do more damage to both of you if it turned up on a reporter’s desk – make that every reporter’s desk – and of course, don’t forget, if you make a deal with me and then renege on it I’d still be out there, somewhere. And I’d be back for both of you. You can see that it hasn’t exactly been difficult to find either of you. And if there is ever a next time we won’t be discussing things. You should really start looking at this as an opportunity to make some sort of amends to me and compensate me for my losses and trouble. It’s not like you don’t owe me something morally, is it?’
The room quietened; only the remote and muffled sounds of the outside world punctuating the quiet as each, finished for the moment with their talking, let himself and the others think.
To his captives, what Sansom was proposing was so full of holes that if it were something that could be held up to the sun there would be more daylight than fabric to see. However, the context of its delivery gave the proposal a compelling dynamic because of what was at stake. A justly-angry, armed and wronged man held them, his tormenters, at gunpoint. It was a way out alive for both of them. An opportunity to escape and live to fight another day. It was also the only chance they currently had or were likely to get and both of them would know it.
If he had it at his feet, Bishop would gladly hand over that amount of money if it would guarantee him safe passage and buy Sansom’s silence. He could afford it. Whether he would still be happy to do so when he reached the safety of a remote location was another matter.
Smith would agree to it because he had no choice and the demands were not so fantastic as to be unmanageable. If anything they were a small price for Sansom to be asking considering his losses and his position. Again, whether he would deliver or not when he’d scurried back to his hidey-hole would be doubtful. He might. And then have Sansom tracked and terminated at his leisure. What with Smith’s dislike for loose ends, Sansom had little expectation that Smith would exit the building under any circumstances – other than dead – prepared to leave it at that.
Regardless of what would be physically involved, everything would ultimately be a matter of trust. Could Bishop and Smith trust Sansom to keep his word and his mouth shut if they paid him off? If he let them go, could Sansom honestly expect both or either of his prisoners to honour their promises? The answer to both questions was a loud unspoken ‘no.’ And probably everyone in the room knew it. But both Bishop and Smith were well aware that they had no choice but to comply with their captor’s demands if they wanted to walk away unscathed.
Smith was working through a chain of thought as to why Sansom would risk his two birds in the hand for an empty bush when Sansom spoke again. ‘It’s make your mind up time, unless you want to be here all night, literally.’
‘What if we decline your offer?’ said Smith.
Sansom smiled at him. ‘I’ll kill you both. I can make it look like one shot the other and then committed suicide in a fit of remorse. It probably won’t fool everyone who comes for a peek at your remains, but it’ll need proving otherwise. And when I release what I have on you both to that journalist that you tried to have picked up today – unsurprisingly enough, she’s actually been quite sympathetic since she learned who’s responsible for her ex-husband’s murder – then I could see those investigating your deaths being encouraged to accept what they might initially find hard to believe. And you know about Mrs Tallis, of course? Good old Stan confided everything in her, that’s why she helped me – “the cop-killer”. Now, she’ll make a convincing character witness for me, don’t you agree? I’m sure that between the two of them and my testimony we can create a highly-believable scenario to explain recent events even if I’m not physically there. Let’s face it; it would be the truth after all. Look on it as buying my silence if the idea of compensating me for my losses doesn’t appeal to you. I really couldn’t care less, so long as I get my money and get away.’
‘What’s to stop them taking it up when you’ve disappeared?’ persisted Smith.
‘With what? The hearsay evidence from an embittered old woman? You think the journalist would risk a lawsuit and her career on that? Besides, I’m sure that what with Smith’s aversion to loose ends both could end up meeting with rather tragic accidents. Don’t think that I would lose any sleep either. It’s all about me these days. Remember too, with the deaths of your operatives at my hands, it will not be in my best interests to have it come out that I’m actually alive and kicking back somewhere in the sun. You would have something on me, too.’
If there were a tipping point in the discussion Sansom would later reflect that that was probably it. They would have something on him, too.
‘Where’s the video camera?’ said Smith.
‘If you both agree, it will be delivered.’
‘I agree,’ said Bishop.
Smith nodded.
‘Good,’ said Sansom. ‘I’ll make the call. Then we can discuss how you’re going to exonerate me while we wait for it to arrive.’
Sansom took the phone from on top of the cupboard, dialled no one and spoke briefly. He made a show of checking his watch, then the light outside. Then he turned back to the seated men. ‘First we’ll take your testimonies. Then we’ll discuss the payment and paperwork. Might as well start getting things clear in your heads. Hatcher – the journalist in case you’ve forgotten – why did you implicate me in his murder?’ The men exchanged a look and said nothing. ‘Look,’ said Sansom, ‘if you’re going to clam up like this every time I ask a question we’re going to be here all night. Actually, the electricity is off. So if the natural light goes before I’ve got what I need we will be here all night. And we can start again in the morning. Of course, that’ll mean you two tied to your seats and gagged for the duration. It won’t be very comfortable. I can’t promise toilet breaks. And if you’re expecting me to go off on one and start laying into you in fits of rage every time we have to cover something “sensitive,” don’t concern yourselves. It’s business now and you two are my golden geese. I don’t want to jeopardize the future I have planned on a pointless display of emotion. I’m past that. Providing, that is, you follow that good advice I gave you earlier. I have my limits these days, as you may have noticed.’
‘Hatcher was shaping up to be a rather large thorn in our side. He couldn’t be warned off. He needed to be removed. You made a believable culprit, especially with evidence of your recent visit littering the place,’ said Smith.
‘So you had no intention of letting me back into the fold after the business with Botha that you set me on in Turkey was concluded?’
Bishop said, ‘I think that I can speak for both of us when I say that no one expected your mission to
be such a success. Hatcher was also a bit of insurance for us with you.’
‘What about the intelligence officer? What was his name?’
Smith said, ‘Martins. When we discovered that you were alive and really on your way back we had to start on those loose ends. Martins obviously knew all about you and why you were returning.’
‘Surely there must be others in his organisation that knew, still know?’
‘Must be. But we don’t know who, yet. And none of them is going to start raking the muck without evidence. If we could discredit or disappear you – the key witness to the Turkey affair -– then they’d be nullified.’
‘And the police officers?’
‘Tallis was necessary. Just business but necessary. He knew too much. Was asking some rather awkward questions and sticking his nose in where it certainly wasn’t wanted. Given the association that you two could be proven to have shared, it was easy to make his death look like it came at your hands. As for the other two, their deaths are regrettable. The result of some over-zealous thinking by an operative. Once it was done we had no choice but to implicate you in those, too.’
‘Why did you have to kill my ex-father-in-law? How could he have hurt you?’
‘He knew about your return. You still don’t understand, do you? I keep telling you – loose ends. You can’t leave them in this business because when the lights go out they’re going to have you over.’
The thought struck Sansom that the whole conversation was surreal in its nature. Here they were sitting around like old adversaries, all the pain and trouble caused seemingly forgotten, discussing the plot of the latest Hollywood blockbuster, perhaps, not the real taking of life. Sansom felt that he should have been raging and lashing out at them for their warped view of ‘business’ but he found himself engaging with a civilised and objective perspective, understanding their reasons for the murders of innocent people just doing their jobs.