Revenge

up with Colin in London but with all the recent trips he’d been making up to town, he suggested that for a change Colin come down to Brighton. There had been a brief pause while Colin considered this revolutionary idea but his eagerness to learn more from the horse’s mouth about Melanie Adams, overcame his normal reluctance to venture down to the coast. As Colin worked in Piccadilly, only two stops from Victoria on the underground, a tentative agreement was reached that Colin would leave work early, which Tom understood to actually mean that he would leave on time, and Tom would collect him at Brighton station at seven on Wednesday evening. That Colin was able to make all these arrangements without first checking with Liz, came as a considerable surprise and gave Tom some hope his brother may not be quite as under her thumb as he had always believed.
Tom picked up the copy of the Racing Post he had purchased from a newsagent close to the café. For the first time in a very long time he spent some time scanning the classifieds to see what horses were being advertised for sale. He had always liked the idea of owning a horse and come close a couple of times to buying one from a local trainer he knew. Each time he had decided at the last minute, he couldn’t really afford the monthly costs to keep the horse in training, even if he could afford the capital outlay. His new funds would allow him to buy at least the back leg of a racehorse as part of a syndicate. It was an idea worth pursuing further. At the very least, having a horse in training would lead to him meeting other owners and that might provide valuable inside information to horses expected to win. Nothing immediately caught his eye so he looked at the betting offices for sale. Maybe he should expand his business and build an empire that he would then sell for millions to one of the big high street chains. He laughed out loud at the thought. No chance! One shop was hard work. Two would be impossible.
His drink was finished and he was just beginning to doubt the wisdom of not going straight home when his phone vibrated. He didn’t like the mindless ring tones most people used to disturb your peace and always switched to vibrate so as not to disturb others enjoying their coffee.
He didn’t recognise the number and his simple “Hello,” was delivered more in hope than expectation.
“Hi, is that Tom?”
Tom was pretty sure that the distinctive American accent could only belong to one person. He felt a little nervous and cleared his throat before answering. “Yes this is Tom.”
“Hello, it’s Melanie Adams. Sorry I didn’t take your call, only the phones are going mad. Seems like every newspaper in the world’s been trying to get me.”
This is insane, Tom thought. I’m actually speaking to Melanie Adams. “I just wanted to check you were OK? I’m actually in town and was wondering if perhaps you’d like to meet up for a coffee or something?” He suddenly felt very foolish. Did he really expect her to rush out to his coffee shop to share a Latte with him?
Before she had time to reply he added, “I wondered if you knew anything more about Friday night’s events?” He waited to hear her excuse for not being able to meet.
“I’d really like that,” she responded without hesitation. “I’ve been feeling guilty all day that I never really thanked you properly. Why don’t you come by the hotel? I’ll tell them to expect you.”
Tom took a deep breath before answering so he didn’t sound as nervous as he was feeling. “OK. I’ll be in there in about half an hour, if that’s all right?”
“Looking forward to it.”
Tom pressed the end call button and stared at his phone for a second. That was surreal, he thought. I just spoke to Melanie Adams and she invited me over to her hotel. Not a bad day all in all. Ninety thousand pounds richer after paying Maxwell’s share and now mixing with one of the world’s most beautiful and exciting women. All my Christmases seem to have come at once. Life doesn’t get much better than this.
Brendan Connor had checked into a small hotel in Bayswater. It’s one of London’s most cosmopolitan areas, with a large number of hotels and Connor always felt at ease amongst the many different nationalities that live in or visit the area. It is a good place for someone to hide in the open. The Chief had given him license to use whatever means necessary to get to young Murphy. That meant he could contact the Chief’s top informant on the mainland, who went by the name of Jones and squeeze him for the information he needed. Jones was too valuable an asset to overuse but he worked for the Security Service and had been foolish enough to be entrapped with an underage girl, when on assignment in Northern Ireland. She had been carefully chosen and though she had said she was eighteen, she was in fact only fifteen. Cameras had been hidden in the hotel room and the photographic evidence was explicit. Jones faced the loss of his career and time in prison or occasionally providing intelligence.
There was a point where Jones was asked to provide information that he knew would lead to a colleague being kidnapped by the IRA and that could only result in a terrible death for the individual. Jones had at first refused to help, preferring to face the consequences for his time spent with the girl but then he was shown the evidence of his subsequently passing information to the IRA. There was again a film and recording. He was now facing a charge of treason and any jail sentence would be significantly longer than for the sex with a minor, so he had caved in and