Haversume sat in the back seat of his chauffeur-driven Rolls-Royce Phantom. The palms of his hands perspired with nervous anticipation. It was the first time they had done that for longer than he could remember.
Haversume tried to ignore it. He focused instead on his private Learjet 60 as it was refuelled. It was a sight that usually buoyed him, filling him with the pride of accomplishment. A private jet was an achievement – a status symbol – that few could match. So what if he had started out rich? If he had inherited his family business? He had still overseen that empire as it grew bigger and more powerful. And he had managed that while also building a political career and creating the Stanton persona. All of which just increased Haversume’s feeling of achievement.
Or at least it usually did. But not today. Today he could not shake the guilt of what he would soon have to do.
His first concern had been dealing with Devlin and Casey. A call to a contact in Dublin had secured enough men for the confrontation. And a second call had secured the only man who really mattered: Joshua.
Once the arrangements were in place Haversume had turned his mind to the other consideration of the day. It was this that now caused him such trouble.
‘Sir, the jet’s ready.’
Terry Barrett was Haversume’s long-time chauffeur, confidante and – if such a thing were possible – his personal friend. Barrett’s thick cockney accent broke into his employer’s troubled thoughts.
‘Thank you, Terry. Is everyone on board?’
‘They are, sir. They ain’t going nowhere.’
The relationship stretched back to Haversume’s earliest army days. There was almost nothing Barrett did not know about his employer’s business and personal life. Including the truth about Stanton. With McGregor dead and Devlin and Casey soon to follow, Barrett would be the only other person who did. Haversume’s man had never bought into his employer’s counterfeit principles. Barrett had no doubt that his boss sought power for power’s sake. Well paid beyond his qualification and talents, it was an ambition with which Barrett empathised.
‘Did anyone see them board?’
‘No, sir. They did it while the plane was in the hangar. Nobody would have seen a thing.’
‘And how are they?’
‘A bit confused,’ Barrett explained, ‘but they don’t suspect nothin’. And I’ve told ‘em you’ll explain every’fing when you get ‘ere.’
‘Good,’ Haversume replied. ‘Then let’s get this over with.’
Haversume took a final deep inhalation of the car’s warm air before forcing himself to move. He stepped out of the open rear door and felt the tarmac of the private Denham Airfield underfoot. Next he took the short walk to the waiting aircraft. Barrett was at his shoulder for every step.
Finally he reached the few steps on the underside of the jet’s open door. It was one of the shortest journeys of his life. And one of the hardest. He was unsure if he could maintain the deception to follow, and he dreaded its inevitable end.
‘Tony!’ It was Hugh Lawrence who spoke first as Haversume entered the plane fuselage. ‘Thank God you’re here. Have you heard anything?’
Haversume looked his closest friend in his eyes. And he began to lie.
‘I have. Michael’s safe. He’s in Ireland and we’re going to get him. We’re going to bring him home.’
‘All of us?’ It was Deborah Lawrence who spoke. Daniel’s mother. ‘You can’t just send for him?’
‘There’s no way he would come, Deb,’ Haversume replied. ‘Michael has got himself very worked up about all of this, and I don’t think he would trust me without knowing that you’re all safe and sound.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that everything he told Hugh on the telephone, well, I’ve had it looked into and he was wrong. There was an incident near his home, but it wasn’t what he described. Not even close. And it had nothing to do with Daniel’s death. But Michael convinced himself that it did, and so it now seems he took Daniel’s death harder than any of us realised. It, well, it affected him. And now we need to protect him from himself.’
‘But he was strong,’ Claire Lawrence offered. She seemed hesitant to believe what they were being told. ‘He dealt with it better than any of us. He can’t just have lost it.’
‘He hasn’t lost it, Claire.’ Haversume was careful not to go too far. ‘He’s just emotional and confused. So like I said, we need to protect him from himself. And if I have you all with me that will be much easier to do.’
Claire Lawrence did not answer, but she still looked sceptical.
Haversume was concerned he might be losing her. That he might be losing them all. He had to be more persuasive, he knew. It was still too early for them to know the truth.
‘Listen,’ he said, addressing them all in his softest tone. ‘I’ve done everything I can to bring Michael home, but he doesn’t trust anyone now. Which I have to presume includes me. But we can’t just leave him to his own devices. He’s paranoid and God knows what problems he is going to cause, to himself and to others. That leaves two options. Either we send people after him who can bring him in, but who could well hurt him in the process. Or we can go. All of us. So that he can see the people he trusts.’
There was no response. At least not verbally. But Haversume could see the unspoken communication between the Lawrence family. He had convinced them, and so for now he would enjoy their cooperation.
It would not last. He knew that. At some point Daniel’s family would learn the truth. But for now the illusion continued. And he was grateful to delay his last – and greatest – betrayal.