“The care home is expensive, but the funds from the sale of the property will keep the payments going for around three years.”
“How did she manage to sell the house? It was in joint names. I should be entitled to half of that money.” His lack of concern for his wife was sickening.
“Well, I was able to help there. I found an underwriter who would issue a single premium insurance policy that would pay out your share should you ever return and make a claim. I think you have five years.
By the way, they sold most of your belongings, too, but there was one thing they thought you might want to keep.”
I lifted the second package out of the bag. It was a varnished oak box with a hinged lid and brass clasp.
“How did you get that through customs?” he asked, taking hold of the box and opening it.
“What customs? When you land at the Marina there is a notice above a telephone which states that if you have anything to declare, pick up this phone.”
I looked at Hickstead as he carefully lifted his old service pistol out of the velvet lined box. I could see memories flooding back as he felt the weight of the gun in his hand. The Browning Hi Power 9mm semi automatic handgun had replaced the old Webley Service Revolvers in 1963 and the army were still using them in many units. I had taken the precaution of ensuring that there was no ammunition in the box.
“Arthur, you will be pleased to hear that when your pension is due next year the Union are paying it to Brenda to pay for her care. They said it was the least they could do, as you had gone missing. Unless, of course, you pass away before then, in which case the whole pension pot is paid to her as a lump sum.”
Hickstead clamped his teeth together; he had obviously made other plans for that pension.
I continued. “On the employment front, things have moved along quite quickly and quietly. The coalition government, at the request of the Lords, passed a bill allowing you to be expelled from the House of Lords and for you to have all your attendant privileges withdrawn. But I guess you were expecting that. There is some good news, though. Alan Parsons, your solicitor, won’t be charging you for his services now that he knows you are impoverished.”
The former peer bristled at this.
“Tell him to submit his bill, for all the use he was. I am expecting a large sum of money soon, and he will get his money.”
I went into the nearly empty bag one more time.
“As I was coming to see you anyway, I was asked to bring you this letter.”
The franking on the accurately addressed envelope denoted that it came from his Swiss Bank. He opened it and looked at the statement. I already knew that there were only five transactions shown on it. The last was the most important. It was dated the day he fled London. It read:
‘Transfer to UK Security Holdings Ltd. €645,000.00, balance remaining €1,326.00.’
Hickstead stared at the letter. I watched his eyes dart to and fro across the words as he read and reread the contents. When he finally spoke, he was almost shouting.
“This isn’t right! This is a disgrace! It’s a clear infringement of my human rights. In fact, it’s downright criminal. I’ll sue the bank and whoever took the money!”
Hickstead was seething, but he knew that his prospects of recovering any of his money were now zero. He was almost penniless, and unless he returned to the UK he would never see any of the money that had been taken from him. He was clearly tired of me now, and suggested rather impolitely that I leave.
“Yes, I need to get back, but you might want a copy of this.” I withdrew a sheet of paper from my inside pocket and handed it to him.
“It’s a European Arrest Warrant for Arthur Hickstead, also known as Martin Wells. It seems that whilst the Turkish authorities will not deport you, they will notify Interpol if you leave Cyprus, and if you fly through European airspace or land anywhere in Europe you will be arrested on landing and returned to the UK. By the way, I’m sure you know already, but the arrest warrant also applies to the southern half of Cyprus, which is administered by Greece.”
I stood and walked to the door. He followed.
“You want me to go back to the UK and be tried for my crimes, don’t you? That’s what this whole exercise was all about.”
I smiled, because he still had not worked it out.
“Arthur, nobody wants you back. You are already in a prison of your own making. You’re stuck in the northern half of a small island. Even worse than that, you have no money and no earnings and you’re living in a down market holiday apartment where you wouldn’t have dreamed of staying overnight two months ago.”
The truth hurt, and he remained silent.
“I think it’s safe for me to give you these now.”
I handed over half a dozen 9mm parabellum bullets.
“Enjoy your freedom, Arthur.”
He slammed the door behind me as I left, and I walked down the street. I hadn’t gone far when a young MI5 operative stepped out of the shadows.
“All done?” he asked, and I nodded.
Chapter 90
Thames House, Millbank, London November 20th 2010, 3pm.
Timothy Madeley stood in his second floor office looking out over the Thames with his mobile phone to his ear. He listened as one of his operatives checked in from Turkish Cyprus, one of the favourite destinations in the sweep, won by Audrey in administration.
“Mr Hammond has done his part, sir. Hickstead is now in possession of the means and he has sufficient motive.”
“But does he have the courage, Boyle, or will he need helping along?”
“Hard to say, sir. I guess if he doesn’t do it this evening he might rally tomorrow and start considering his options.”
“We can’t allow that to happen, Boyle. Either he goes himself or someone will have to help him along. But it must look like he took his own life, or Hammond will smell a rat. Giving the old man the means to take his own life was one thing, but knowing he had participated in his execution might just be more than Hammond’s morality can take.”
“Understood, sir. I’ll be in touch again before you retire for the night.”
Madeley clicked off his phone and sat down at his desk. In his view, Hickstead had two options. First, accept that he was penniless and defeated and end it all before he lost what was left of his self-esteem. Second, get drunk tonight and wake up tomorrow realising that the tabloids would pay a small fortune for his story.
The second option was unacceptable. Lord Hickstead would be reported as having taken his own life in Madeley’s report to the Prime Minister tomorrow, one way or another.
Chapter 91
The Janus, Northern Cyprus. November 20th 2010, 5pm.
Dee climbed off the jet ski onto the jetty and removed her life jacket. She was still laughing. I suspected that she had used jet skis before when she continued to circle my jet ski and spray me with surf as she banked. I tried banking my jet ski just the once, and fell off. I wondered if the whole of our married life would be as competitive as this, or whether two weeks after the whitest of weddings her affection for me was waning.
I had to admit, however, that for a wedding arranged at just four weeks’ notice, Dee, Jayne and Lavender had done an amazing job. We tied the knot in a historic chapel which had probably looked much the same nine hundred years ago when it was built in the grounds of Falsworth Hall near Reading. My heart skipped a beat when I saw Dee in the dress for the first time. She looked spectacular. When I heard that Jayne’s friend, and Avant-garde fashion designer, Li Li Sung, was making the dress, I had imagined something offbeat and probably weird. I was wrong. It was a traditional white bridal gown, decorated with white Swiss embroidered love symbols from every continent.