All Or Nothing

by Ollie Ollerton

  At a front door, they knocked. A man answered.

  ‘Mr McGregor.’

  ‘Mr Kilgore.’

  So here he was. The famous Kilgore. He was a tall man, his grey hair in a crewcut, a weathered and watchful look about him, the kind of guy who could play a Nazi in an Indiana Jones movie. ‘And this must be Alex Abbott,’ he said. ‘Or is it Owen Flyte?’

  ‘I’ll settle for Abbott,’ he said.

  ‘Where is she, Kilgore?’ asked McGregor.

  ‘She’s round the back.’

  Now Abbott found himself looking carefully at McGregor, taking note of the change that seemed to have come over him since entering the grounds of the mansion. For someone who was apparently an employee of the poor relations in the Midlands, McGregor was acting very much at home here.

  They walked around the side of the house, heading, presumably, towards the gardens. ‘You know Kilgore, then, do you?’ asked Abbott.

  ‘Aye, I know Kilgore.’

  ‘Feels like you know him quite well.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say that.’

  ‘Just that you two seem awfully familiar, that’s all.’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  Coming around the side of the house, Abbott once again found himself having to restrain a gasp. Beautifully tended gardens as far as the eye could see. In the distance a man on a ride-on lawnmower was cutting an area close to the tennis courts. You’re doing a good job there, mate, thought Abbott, and then caught sight of the assault rifle sharing the guy’s lawn-mower seat. Not far away, yet another guy. This one lounging by a tree, making even less pretence at work then the others. Easy now, fellas.

  They approached where Lady Norton sat on a bench, a black Labrador half-asleep at her feet. She was ageing, and with the bearing to match. Slightly out-of-date but expensive clothes and the kind of white, carefully set hair that was probably attended to on a daily basis.

  She rose and offered her hand to shake. The black Lab looked up, regarding Abbott disinterestedly.

  ‘Mr Abbott,’ she said, regaining her seat. ‘How very nice to meet you.’ There was something weird about her that it took Abbott a moment to put his finger on. Although she spoke with the language of a character straight out of Agatha Christie, her voice was just ever-so-slightly at odds with that, as though she were putting on airs and graces.

  ‘That’s correct,’ he said.

  ‘Can I call you Alex?’

  ‘You may indeed. Can I call you Lady Norton? It’s not every day I get to mingle with aristocracy.’

  ‘Aristocracy,’ she laughed, a slightly coarse bark. ‘Hardly. A comprehensive education and a job in a bookmaker’s is what got me here. My husband and I had the titles and the wealth, but we never really got a sense of belonging.’

  ‘Well, I suppose you’d have to say that two out of three ain’t bad.’

  ‘You see? A true member of the aristocracy would have no idea that you were quoting Meat Loaf.’

  Standing nearby, McGregor chuckled.

  ‘Would you mind leaving us, Peter?’ Lady Norton asked him, squinting slightly in the sun.

  Peter, thought Abbott. You live and learn.

  ‘Aye, of course,’ said McGregor. ‘I’ll just take a lap around the park.’

  Abbott watched him go before he spoke. ‘It’s not so long ago that Raymond Doyle told me that I was only alive because he permitted it. Sitting here next to you, I wonder whether I’m only alive because you say so.’

  Lady Norton nodded. ‘Well, that’s partly the case. But in fact, I was also responsible for trying to have you killed. In fact, it’s far more accurate to say that the only person responsible for your ongoing existence is you.’

  ‘OK, I’ll take that. How about we agree to split the difference and we move on to the bit where you tell me why I’m here?’

  ‘God, where to start?’

  ‘Try the beginning.’

  She smiled. ‘Let me tell you a little bit about my husband. It may not surprise you to learn that he was brought up the son of a working-class man in Derby. As a child he was best friends with a boy who lived two streets away, your friend Raymond Doyle. They would get into the usual kind of youthful scrapes together. You know the kind of thing, I’m sure?’

  Abbott, veteran of more than a few ‘youthful scrapes’ himself, nodded.

  ‘Of the two, I suppose you might say that my husband was the more entrepreneurial, the one who liked to use his head while Raymond Doyle was content to rely on his fists. The dynamic was that Charles was the brains, Raymond the brawn. Charles opened a bookmaker’s. Not long after that, he opened another one. Any problems with landlords, or rival bookies or non-paying customers, then Ray Doyle would sort them on Charles’s behalf. It was partly – and I do mean partly – thanks to Ray Doyle and the culture of fear that he created that Charles was able to establish a foothold in business. He went on to open casinos and theme parks. Anything with a game at its heart, Charles loved it. What drove him was a love of the game. He was a sports fanatic. A fiercely competitive card player. Any family gathering would be an opportunity for a game. It went to bone deep with him. He had no time for computer games or role-playing. He liked games with a fixed outcome. And like many games players, he enjoyed gambling on that outcome. After his death I fully expected him to spring a surprise, and I fully expected that surprise to be a game of some kind.’

  ‘Not much of a surprise.’

  ‘Very perceptive of you, Alex, no. And possibly that is why he went to such great lengths to ensure that we were indeed surprised.’

  ‘And were you surprised?’

  ‘We were surprised. Charles has decreed that the control of his company shall go to the winner of a very specific game.’

  ‘What did he have in mind?’ asked Abbott, wanting her to cut to the chase.

  ‘What he had in mind was a fight to the death.’

  Abbott barked a laugh. ‘You have got to be fucking kidding me.’ And yet even as he had that thought he realised that it all fitted like a glove – the picture he was building of those people – the picture of them being that they were the biggest bunch of sick twists that ever lived.

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘What? You all get in a ring and duke it out, do you?’

  ‘Not quite. It’s a little more sophisticated than that.’

  ‘In a way that somehow involves me?’

  ‘Yes, because my husband, devious though he may have been, did not literally expect his nearest and dearest to fight it out to the death. Or perhaps he considered the idea and decided against it for whatever reason. His plan was that we should each choose a proxy. Presumably this is exactly what the other competitors – my family members – are doing right now. In this regard, my associate, Mr Kilgore, organised for me an ex-special forces operative by the name of Owen Flyte. When Doyle was in touch to say that you were – how shall we say? – disrupting things in Derby, it was Mr Kilgore’s idea that we should set a little test for Owen Flyte.’

  ‘The test being that Owen Flyte should kill me.’

  Lady Norton gave a small, embarrassed cough into her handkerchief. ‘Yes, yes, I’m terribly sorry about that. You must understand that there was nothing personal intended. It was merely a means to an end. I needed to ascertain Mr Flyte’s skillset. The fact that you were in Derby making Doyle nervous, well, it just felt like a case of killing two birds with one stone.’

  ‘Only . . .’

  ‘Only . . . it did not go according to plan. I’m told that you were highly skilled in your dispatch of Mr Flyte. I’m also informed that you managed to pose as him to infiltrate Doyle’s operation. And that you did this to avenge your brother. Am I right?’

  ‘That’s about the size of it.’

  ‘You are tough. You are resourceful.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Meaning that in a month’s time, when my husband’s game to the death is staged and the members of our family each present our proxy, I would like you to be mine.�
��

  Abbott had been expecting it, of course. Ever since she mentioned the death match idea. After all, why else would he be here? Just that the idea – the whole concept – was so incredibly outlandish. ‘Where exactly is this game going to happen?’ he asked.

  ‘My husband’s lawyer, Jeffrey Coombs, is soon to release that information. All we know is that it will be taking place in some kind of suitable arena in an Eastern European country.’

  ‘And it’s a battle?’

  ‘It’s a battle.’

  ‘An actual battle? To the death. We’re not talking paintball or Airsoft?’

  ‘No, Alex. This is a game to the death. Winner takes all.’

  ‘And just so I’m absolutely clear about this, you want me as your proxy?’

  ‘It’s the reason you’re here today.’

  ‘But if you know so much about me, then you’ll know that I drink.’

  ‘Indeed, I do know that. I also know that you managed to defeat my champion, a man I was told was among the best.’

  ‘And that hasn’t left you feeling sore?’

  Again, she laughed. ‘Of course it’s left me feeling sore. It’s left me out of pocket. But at the same time, I was under the impression that I was hiring the best and if the best can be beaten then . . .’ She spread her hands. ‘Besides, I’m fairly confident that any drinking issues you have you will manage to keep under control between now and the big day. The lure of £2 million is enough, surely?’

  ‘I’m sorry – what?’

  ‘That’s right. If you win, which of course you will, because I have the utmost faith in you, you will be given the sum of £2 million. You may have this transferred into a bank account. You may have it in cash, in gold, in diamonds or in stock. The point is that if you agree to be my champion then you can be £2 million the richer. Do we have a deal?’

  Abbot took a deep breath and looked away. That security guy was still lounging by the tree. Light glanced off the lenses of a pair of binoculars. The lawnmower had stopped. Abbott hadn’t even noticed the sound drop, but it was now stationary and the driver stood by it, the assault rifle in his arms. Were they waiting? Waiting for a sign perhaps? Why did Abbott get the idea that anything less than complete assent would see him carted out feet first?

  ‘Yes,’ he said, at last, ‘we do have a deal.’ Because I have no choice, he thought. And because of the money. A hell of a lot of money. A life-changing sum. The kind of money you could use to get yourself back on the tracks. ‘Peter tells me that you object to some of Doyle’s business practices.’

  ‘I’ve said nothing to Peter either way,’ said Abbott, sensing that he was being tested. Sensing, again, that McGregor’s position here was different to what he had previously assumed.

  ‘Peter has a nose for these things.’

  Abbott decided to go along, see where this particular road took them. ‘Well, then, yes, I do.’

  McGregor had returned, was lingering close by. ‘Peter,’ called Lady Norton, and he approached them. ‘You were right,’ she said to him. ‘We may have found our man in more ways than one.’

  CHAPTER 31

  ‘And what exactly does that mean?’ asked Abbott.

  There was something going on here. Something above and beyond sounding him out for the death match.

  ‘Doyle, Mr Abbott,’ Lady Norton went on to say. ‘He is a blemish. A greasy fingerprint on an otherwise gleaming window. He and his organisation are the trailer park on the edge of town. My late husband had an unfortunate case of blindness where they were concerned. Misplaced loyalty and nostalgia, no doubt. But I have no such qualms. I consider him, his wife, their awful child and all those awful nieces and nephews to be a throwback to a past I would rather forget. Whatever happens concerning the outcome of the game it is my most fervent wish that this company should move forward without Doyle hanging on to its coattails, taking our retainer, trading on our name. They are a loathsome cancer on our business, and I would like that cancer cut out.’

  Abbott looked at her. ‘And I’m just the man to do it?’

  ‘You are. And you would be handsomely paid.’

  ‘Stop Doyle? That’s what you want?’

  ‘I mean put an end to him for good,’ she said.

  ‘What sort of end?’

  ‘Cut off the head.’

  ‘You’re asking me to kill Raymond Doyle?’

  ‘That’s exactly what I’m fucking asking you, Alex.’

  Abbott couldn’t help but smile as the mask dropped a little more. He was remembering what Doyle had told him about the information in the safe – information that could put Lady Norton away for a long time. All that stuff about Doyle being the trailer park on the edge of town was one thing, but what was the real reason she wanted him dead? Because of what he knew?

  One thing was for sure. Abbott needed to see what was in that safe.

  ‘What’s in it for me?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, there is the pleasure of dismantling the people-trafficking operation,’ she said, ‘would you like to do that?’ It struck him that she hadn’t mentioned that up until now. Just killing Doyle. She continued, ‘Not only that but I’m willing to pay you an extra £1 million for carrying out this job. That’s £1 million on top of what you stand to earn during the game. Same as before. You can choose your currency. What do you say, Mr Abbott?’

  ‘I’d say that I’m not entirely comfortable about being used like I’m some kind of one-stop shop for all your people-killing needs.’

  ‘I can see that. But something also tells me that there is a little of the righteous avenger about you, Mr Abbott. Something tells me that you’d like nothing better than to strike a blow at Doyle. For me, they represent my family’s last ties with a history that I would prefer to forget. Cut Doyle away from the Nortons and my family can be legitimate for perhaps the first time.’

  ‘You have all this,’ he gestured. ‘You have a title. You still want to be legitimate?’

  ‘I refer you to our previous conversation.’

  ‘OK, but you know that ordering a hit isn’t exactly “going legitimate”?’

  ‘A last unfortunate visit to the dark side before the new dawn.’

  ‘I’ll need time.’

  ‘Of course. Take as much as you need. Within reason, of course.’

  ‘I mean that I won’t be able to return to work. Doyle is going to wonder what’s going on.’

  ‘We’ll smooth things over with Doyle,’ said Lady Norton. ‘We brought you into his orbit and now we’re having you back, simple as that.’

  Abbott looked away. ‘Don’t think I’ve ever been poached before. Fried a few times. Scrambled lots.’ He smiled. ‘But never poached.’

  ‘Will you be going back to Derby?’

  ‘Not right away. There are things I need to do first.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Getting a team together.’

  ‘Actually, on second thoughts . . .’ She held up her hands. ‘I don’t need or want to know how you intend to go about it.’

  ‘Eminently sensible.’

  ‘In business you learn to let people get on with what they’re best at.’ She looked across at him. ‘So anyway, I take it this is a yes?’

  Abbott looked over the rolling lawns. Whatever Lady Norton’s motives – and they were surely far more complicated and murky than she was letting on – there was indeed that one very compelling motive where Abbott was concerned: Doyle – the organisation that had spawned Sweaty and Jason Scutter, the pondlife who had tried to kidnap his brother.

  Those people would be stopped, and it would be Abbott’s finger on the trigger.

  ‘Yes,’ he told her. Their eyes met, and Abbott thought, And when I’m done with Doyle, I’m coming for you.

  CHAPTER 32

  They were on the M1 when Abbott broached the subject with McGregor.

  ‘So, today seems to be one for telling the truth. How about you tell me about your relationship with Her Ladyship back there?’
/>   McGregor arched an eyebrow. ‘I don’t know what you’re thinking, pal, but it’s not that.’

  ‘You’re an employee?’

  ‘Well, you already knew that.’

  ‘Something tells me that being an employee of Lady Norton and being an employee of Ray Doyle are two very different things. Something also tells me that you’re much more an employee of her then you are of him. Would I be right about that?’

  ‘Aye, you would,’ agreed McGregor, nodding, smiling. His hair was more than usually plastered to his forehead and Abbott wondered if the oft-present smile was in fact a cover for a case of nerves. ‘The truth is that it’s me who’s been reporting back to her. For what it’s worth, I’m also the reason that you could very soon be a rich man.’

  ‘According to her, I’d achieve that myself.’

  ‘No, I meant hitting Doyle.’ He jabbed a finger at his own chest. ‘It was me who put that idea into her head. “We’ve got the perfect man for the job already inside the operation,” that’s what I told her.’

  Abbott let out a huge sigh. ‘What is it with you lot constantly telling me that I’m part of some operation?’

  ‘You know what I mean, Abbott.’

  ‘You seem fairly confident that I’m going to fall into line on this.’

  McGregor glanced across the seats at him. ‘Come on, Abbott. You can’t tell me that you haven’t been thinking about your brother. It’s why you’re here, isn’t it? The other night when you wasted Sweaty, it wasn’t just about taking him out of the picture, was it? You wanted the whole operation shut down. That’s why you called the cops on us. If you just left it at plugging Sweaty then maybe you could have maintained your cover, but you didn’t, did you? You wanted to deal a death blow.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘This is your chance to do it. Doyle thinks you’re on board. I’ll be reporting back to him, pouring all kinds of honey in his ear. He already thinks that he’s indispensable to Lady Norton. He won’t suspect a thing.’