Die Alone

two of them walked alone through the woodland at the end of the house’s immaculately tiered gardens.
‘We’ve definitely got the forty-eight MPs in place to trigger the election,’ said George, ‘and from the private polling I’ve done, you’ve got the support of at least a hundred MPs if you stand.’
‘That’s a long way short of a majority.’
‘It’s more than any other candidate. And there are going to be at least five standing. In a second ballot, I think the bulk of the parliamentary party would get behind you.’
Sheridan looked down at George, enjoying the fact that he had six inches in height over the other man. ‘“Think” isn’t enough,’ he said. ‘I need more certainty.’
‘I can’t give you any more certainty than that, Alastair. You’re a fresh, exciting face in the party, a very popular candidate, and you’ve certainly got the charisma to appeal to a wide spectrum of voters, but there’s no denying you’re also controversial. There are rumours about your links to organized crime, and Cem Kalaman in particular. You know that.’
‘I have nothing to do with him,’ said Sheridan, irritated to have Kalaman’s name brought up. ‘We knew each other once. We did some business through the hedge fund, but that was a long time ago. And it was all above board. I haven’t seen him for several years.’
‘That’s good. Because I know of at least two ongoing investigations into his criminal enterprise, and there’s a very good chance he’ll be arrested and charged in the near future. If any links, however tenuous, between you and he are discovered, it’ll do immense damage to any leadership bid.’
‘But if I’m already Prime Minister, it’ll be hard to push me out. Therefore, now is going to be my best chance.’ Sheridan didn’t like the idea of running for leadership and being defeated, but he knew that, given his background, and the balancing act he’d performed for so long to keep his dark secrets out of the public domain, it was also too risky to wait to make his move. And, in truth, he’d never felt readier for the highest role in British politics. He had some excellent, if vague, policy ideas to free up the economy and drive it forward. He had the common touch. He could reach areas the other candidates couldn’t hope to reach. He was, in short, a winner.
‘We’ll make the move in September,’ said George, ‘when we’re back from the summer recess. We just need the PM to keep floundering over these next few weeks, a few more prison riots to add to the general impression of chaos and disorder, and then all the momentum will be with us. I think we can definitely do it, Alastair.’
George looked up at him with a good attempt at enthusiasm on his chubby, middle-aged face, but Sheridan didn’t buy it. George wasn’t nearly enthusiastic enough – which, Sheridan had to admit, was unsurprising given that he more than virtually anyone knew the truth about the man he was helping to become Prime Minister. Sheridan was definitely going to have to bring him into line.
‘Are there are any criminal investigations aimed at me at the moment, George?’ he asked, revealing the real reason why he’d brought him here tonight.
‘I don’t believe so.’
‘I need a yes or no. You’re the Home Office minister for the police. You ought to know.’
‘I keep my ear to the ground, Alastair, and I do everything I can to make sure I’m made aware if there’s anything serious going on.’
It was a typical mealy-mouthed politician’s response, evasive and unsatisfying. It was no wonder MPs were so despised. Sheridan stopped and put a firm hand on George’s shoulder, looking down at him like a headmaster addressing an errant pupil.
‘I need to know exactly who is after me, and how they’re doing it, George. I don’t trust my new colleagues in the government. And you’re my inside man, aren’t you, George? Because if I go down, old friend, you might find yourself answering some rather unpleasant questions yourself. I’ve still got the evidence of your little indiscretion, you know.’
And there it was. Out there. Sheridan’s secret weapon.
‘I know,’ said George, wilting under his old friend’s gaze.
‘I don’t want any nasty surprises, and I’m sure you don’t either. You just need to do one thing for me, George. Get me into power. After that, I’ll do the rest.’ Sheridan patted him on the shoulder and grinned. ‘Come on, let’s head back to the ladies.’

4
My eyes opened and I sat up fast, expecting to find myself in some kind of restraints.
Instead, I was in a comfortable double bed with what smelled like the first truly clean sheets I’d had in a year. And I was naked, my prison sweatshirt and tracksuit bottoms nowhere to be seen. I pulled down the covers and examined the wounds on my arm and belly. The dressings had been changed, and the area around the injuries cleaned up. They throbbed dully.
I looked around. The room was small. The bed and an old-fashioned wardrobe at the end of it took up most of the space. There was also a bedside table with a lamp, along with a clean glass and a full jug of water. It was daylight, and sunshine was poking round the edges of the blackout blinds.
Some time had clearly passed.
I drank two glasses of water in quick succession before climbing out of the bed. My head ached angrily, and for a couple of seconds my vision blurred before clearing again. I opened the blinds and saw that I was on the first floor of a house that looked out onto a leylandii hedge that must have been a good twenty feet high, and was separated from the window by a short stretch of well-kept grass. I tried the window handles and wasn’t surprised to find them locked. Next, I tried the bedroom door. It too was locked, and