‘You’re getting it,’ says Jack Mason. ‘He says to Heather, this fraud is going to trial. I need you to plead guilty, to admit everything, but not a word on who you were working for.’
‘Or I send the police in the direction of Bethany’s grave?’
‘Where all the evidence says Heather did it. So, do you want ten years in prison, or do you want life? It’s blackmail, buried six feet underground.’
‘And that’s been hanging over her the whole time she’s been in prison?’ asks Ron.
‘She never said a word, and she never made a penny,’ says Jack Mason. ‘She just sat and did her time, knowing that one false move and she’d be a murderer.’
‘All that waiting,’ says Ron. ‘Then someone kills her too. That’s, whatcha call it, bad luck.’
The men nod, like the three wise monkeys.
‘And what did he want from you?’ asks Viktor.
‘He wanted his money,’ says Jack Mason. ‘It was ten mill or so, and he couldn’t access it.’
‘And you could?’
‘Turns out no,’ says Jack Mason. ‘The rules changed back in 2015, everything had to be declared, hoops to jump through. And then other obstacles kept popping up, never really seen anything like it. Do you know much about money-laundering?’
‘Yes,’ says Viktor.
‘We washed it so thoroughly it was scattered to the winds. Heather was very good at her job. But when we needed it to start coming back the other way, as clean money, some of the things we needed to do to get it back were no longer legal. And some of the money had just vanished. We’d hid it so well even we couldn’t find it.’
‘So it’s still out there?’ asks Viktor.
‘Presumably,’ says Jack Mason.
‘Any chance you’re going to tell us who your partner was?’ asks Ron.
‘Course not,’ says Jack Mason. ‘I shouldn’t have told you as much as I have, but, if you can work it out, good luck to you.’
‘We’ll work it out,’ says Ron. He can hear the car approaching in the distance.
‘She shouldn’t have died,’ says Jack Mason. ‘It’s on me. And Heather shouldn’t have died either, that’s on me too.’
‘I’d like to disagree, Jack,’ says Ron. ‘But I can’t.’
Jack nods, and looks around him, at his house, his gardens, that view. ‘There was no need for any of it.’
The headlights of Ron’s Daihatsu sweep across the lawn. Bogdan is here. Jack rises to wish his friends farewell. But Viktor has a final question.
‘Why did you not just dig the body up yourself? Problem solved.’
‘I tried to find it,’ says Jack Mason. ‘Over the years. Believe me, I tried. I knew where it was, and I’ve dug and dug, but –’
‘Will you tell us where she’s buried?’ Viktor asks.
‘I’ve told you enough to be getting on with,’ says Jack. ‘You buggers can work it out.’
‘Your candour has been admirable,’ says Viktor.
Jack puts an arm around Viktor’s shoulders. ‘I can’t help thinking these revelations have taken the edge off your snooker victory this evening. And Ron’s shocking performance.’
‘Will we still be invited back?’ asks Viktor.
‘I can’t think of anything more fun,’ says Jack Mason. ‘A couple of mates, a glass of whisky, a game of snooker. Everything else is ego and greed. It’s taken me a long time to work that out.’