Harlan had been waiting a long time for this moment; he was ready for it. The Air Accident Investigations people called on him at the Essex house. They watched him gravely as they sat and discussed the helicopter crash.
‘We are sorry to have to tell you, Mr Stone, that there was an explosive device on board your parents’ aircraft, which caused catastrophic damage. There was no hope of the occupants surviving the crash.’
Harlan nodded.
‘So tell me, Mr Stone, do you have knowledge of anyone with a grudge against either of your parents?’ the older of the two asked. He was bespectacled. Jowly. Sporting an office pallor. He wore a tired tweed jacket and shiny beige trousers and a sympathetic but somehow suspicious expression.
‘Well, no.’
‘You’re sure?’
Harlan could think of many, many people who would have wanted his adopted father dead. Rival drug lords; there were many of them and the market would only accommodate so many before the whole thing burst apart like a rotten carcass. That had been Charlie’s worry for years. When you were in one of the top slots, there was always some bastard looking to knock you off it. Now the problem would be Harlan’s, instead. Well, he could hack it. He had plenty of foot soldiers around him.
Then his thoughts turned to Nipper and Ludo. Where the hell were those tossers? Give them a job to do and they fucked off out of it and left you in the dark. They should have come back to base with news long since. But there had been nothing. He promised himself that when the two of them finally showed up here, he was going to rip each of them a brand-new arsehole.
‘My father was a respected businessman. Well liked. Popular,’ said Harlan.
‘We will be passing the matter over to the police now for further investigation,’ said the younger AAI man, eyeing Harlan steadily.
‘Yes, of course,’ said Harlan, catching his breath and swiping a hand over his eyes. ‘Sorry,’ he said, and coughed. ‘This has been so upsetting for us, as you can imagine.’
‘Indeed,’ said the older one.
‘For my sister and myself,’ elaborated Harlan.
‘Is she at home today? Could we speak to her?’ asked the older one.
Right now Harlan didn’t have a clue where Milly was. He’d heard word she was hanging around the clubs and – silly cow – getting into the drugs scene. You never touched the product. That was for mugs. Still – so long as she was out of his way, everything was fine.
‘No, I think she’s in town. She’s taken it very hard, all this. We have properties there, but I’ve no idea which one she’s staying at. My father was rich, you know.’
‘And now his wealth has passed to you and your sister.’
‘Yeah.’ Well – to him, anyway. Charlie had trusted him implicitly and had left the whole shebang to him. Milly had her thirty-grand allowance per annum, paid straight into her personal account. Small change, compared to what he’d got. ‘But we’d happily give it all back if only we could have our parents returned to us.’
‘Imports, wasn’t it?’ asked the younger one. ‘Furnishings and such?’
‘That’s right.’
The younger AAI man snapped closed his briefcase. ‘As we say, this is a police matter now.’
‘Let’s hope they catch whoever did it,’ said Harlan.
‘Yes,’ said the older man, eyeing him beadily. ‘Let’s hope.’