“I’m not sure what relevance that has on his mental state now. However, I do agree that he was acting out of character that day.”
“I’ve no doubt that he was. Because, he wanted us to believe that the confident man who stood before us was someone in total control, but he obviously wasn’t, and we now know that it was Hugo Malakoff pulling his strings. I believe that his natural personality trait is quite the opposite. In fact, I’d guess that he’s a highly strung, pent-up, anal retentive who likes his life to be very orderly, and that if he’s backed into a corner, who’s to say what he’s likely to do.”
“I disagree, old son. I’ve known Oliver Asquith a long time, and he’s much stronger mentally, than you are giving him credit for. He also has an exceptional degree of cunning about him. So don’t expect me to have any sympathy for him.” LJ said apathetically. He stood up and put on his jacket, he picked up his briefcase, and before he departed drank what was left of his now cold black coffee.
“Come on, let’s put this one to bed, old son,” and he opened the door and led the way out.
When Asquith arrived at the London Eye there was the usual throng of sight-seekers waiting to get on, making it virtually impossible to see anybody in the pods at ground level. A uniformed security guard approached him, and led him through the crowds, all the way to the front of the queue, much to the verbal annoyance of those who had been waiting patiently for their turn. He was told to wait until the next pod had docked, and as the door opened he saw that the only occupants were two men dressed in city suits, standing on the far side of the spacious interior. They were looking over the Thames, and were in deep conversation. He stepped inside, the door closed behind him, and almost immediately the pod started to move again.
“Sit down, Oliver.” LJ instructed, and turned around to face Asquith. And then leaned casually against the glass of the window.
Asquith stood there for a brief second, then went forward to one of the seats hesitantly, his fingers clasped around the butt of the small pistol in his right-hand jacket pocket. The antique ladies handbag weapon was extremely easy to conceal, and lethally effective at close range. And after purchasing it from a back street trader in Cairo, he always knew it would come in handy one day.
The giant Ferris wheel started to rotate again, the pod went another notch upwards and then stopped as the one behind it docked, to allow more people on board. LJ walked across the cabin and sat down opposite Asquith.
“Well, here we are, Oliver. I mustn’t be too long. I’ve got a meeting with the Home Secretary and Simon Digby at the Home Office in precisely thirty minutes.”
“Oh please, cut the crap and the silly games, Edward. We all know why you’ve got me here. And before you say anything, it’s not my bloody fault that my father fervently believed in Hitlerism.” Asquith said the words with rancour, and then added in a quiet voice, “I was only trying to protect my family name, my position with the Museum.”
“The family name, of course. Understandable, but not a good enough reason why you should be forgiven, Oliver. What I am most disturbed by is the fact that, for whatever reason, you acted as Malakoff’s poodle from the very outset. Feeding him every scrap of information that you came by. You sold us all out, and put Dillon, Vince Sharp, Rob Chapman and myself in extreme danger. It was your actions that resulted in Annabelle Cunningham being attacked in a side street, just outside of the Ferran & Cardini offices. I dread to think what would have happened to her, had Jake not intervened and sorted out the two hired thugs.”
“I know you won’t believe me. But, I wasn’t aware of any of this, Edward.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that for one moment, Oliver, that it was Malakoff who arranged everything. After all, he was in a position of extreme wealth to organise just about anything he wanted. But, what I’m talking about is retribution for the futile taking of human life. For the old man on Jersey, whose name was Albert Bishop by the way. He’d have been a young boy during your father’s time at the house on the island. I went to talk to him about the war years. But, he’d already been brutally murdered by the time I arrived. It was the way in which he had met with his death that first threw light onto this whole affair, and what it was about. Now that was obviously Malakoff’s people, but how did he know about the old man’s existence in the first place? Again, it’s obvious. You told him, Oliver.”
“You’re bluffing again, Edward. You can’t prove that, or come to it, any of this far fetched fairy tale that you’ve concocted.”
“That’s true, up to a point. Just as I can’t prove what happened to Guy Roberts, but let me tell you my theory anyway. Before Roberts met with a bullet in the head from a professional killer. He flew down to Jersey with the revelation that he’d found out about Albert Bishop’s connection to your father. Now, you might be wondering how he found out? Well, he discovered this while running an unofficial data checks on your family. I’d asked him to do this, because of the information that was haemorrhaging to Malakoff that could only have come from one of those who knew about this affair. That’s how we found out about the house on Jersey. Unfortunately, he took it upon himself, by dubious means, to hack into your personal computer and rummage around in a few of the files there. It’s quite probable, that you or even one of your employees noticed that someone had been snooping around in your bank files.” He pointed out.
“You then contact Malakoff, and he has his people run a locator scan over the Internet to find out who it was. I can only imagine that you were beside yourself with panic at that precise moment, not knowing who had hacked into your private details.” LJ gave a small chuckle at this revelation.
“You must have feared the worst, and phoned Malakoff who placated you, and then took care of it for you.” LJ sighed, “Somehow, and my people are still looking into this, Malakoff managed to trace the connection point, back to our Docklands address. Sadly, had the terminal used, not been on-line at the time of the scan, young Roberts would still be alive to this day.”
Asquith, who looked pale, but had regained some of his composure and arrogance, took a deep breath and sat upright, “The only crime that I’ve committed, Edward. Is to be naive. After all, I was only doing what any son would do, protect my father’s memory. Like I said, what he got up to during the war was his affair. Not mine. If his treasonous actions ever become public knowledge, it will not only bring utter ruin and disgrace to the family name. But, will be detrimental to this Government at a time when it, together with other free nations, is fighting fascism and dictatorship around the planet.”
He seemed to have recovered his nerve. “I warn you, that if you persist with this thing, I’ll simply call in a few favours from some very influential friends of mine. You can’t prove any of it, Edward. And, so what if you’ve got those ledgers, what do they actually prove anyway?”
LJ turned his back on the archaeologist and looked out across the Thames far below. “As I said, I can see why you jumped into bed with Hugo Malakoff, Oliver. After all, in your panic you could see an ancient name being dragged through the gutter press, tarnished for all eternity. In fact, your whole life turned upside down, your privileged position in society taken away from you, and no more British museum with those fully expensed trips to the Middle East. But, you see what I can’t see any excuse for, were the attacks on Annabelle Cunningham, the death of the old man on Jersey, the cold blooded murder of Guy Roberts and heaven knows how many others, who met with an untimely end during this whole affair.” LJ turned around to face an ashen faced Asquith. “I’ve no doubt, whatsoever old son, that on those charges you are every bit blameworthy as the men who carried them out.”