Page 48 of Murder in Shades of Fire and Ash

“I don’t understand,” Charlie said.

“You would, if you could see what was in front of you. The white race being watered down, held back by the Jews and the Blacks. Only no one admits it’s happening.”

“Is that why you killed Josh Pettifor? Because he married a Black woman?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.This man. This so-called MP. This is who I’m going to kill.Because then people willknow the truth.”

“The camper van behind Mo’s Autoparts. You killed a man there and burned the place down.”

“What the fuck? I’m a fireman. I don’t burn things. That takeaway place, though. They deserved it.”

To say that Buron had lost touch with reality was an understatement of epic proportions. But Charlie thought he was telling the truth about Josh Pettifor. Which didn’t help Charlie, or Alun Evans. The blood dripping from the wound on his neck had made a stain the size of Charlie’s hand on Evans’ shirt. His eyes were beginning to flutter open, and he gave a small moan. Burton grabbed him by the hair and yanked. Evans cried out.

“Be quiet,” Burton said. “You’re giving away everything that makes this country great. You have no right to fair treatment. What about those people who will lose their homes so that you can give them to immigrants, hey?” Yank. “Making our people homeless,” Yank.

“It isn’t true,” Evans said weakly. “I keep trying to tell you, but you won’t believe me. There are no plans to house asylum seekers here.”

“You think people won’t believe the British government would do something so outrageous. That’s what you rely on. Don’t keep any records and keep denying it. But look at parliament … Africans, Asians, Arabs, creeping in. Taking over. The country is starting to wake up, brothers …”

Burton’s eyes were glazed as he spoke from his imaginary soapbox about a future where the poor oppressed white people would rise up and reclaim their rightful places.

He saw something move outside the window.

“Whatever you think of Mr Evans’ politics, this isn’t the way,“ he said, wanting Burton’s attention on him. “Blowing up Muslim-owned shops and knifing MPs are short-cuts to prison.”

“I’ll get my day in court,” Brurton spat. “A jury of my peers who will understand the truth when they hear it.”

The movement outside the window was beginning to resolve into a figure.

“Maybe not. Maybe what you’ve done, and the things you’re planning, will be considered terrorism. Terrorists don’t get public trials. You’ll just disappear without trace. Or you could let Mr Evans go, and we will both help you talk to the media.”

“That’s right,” Evans said, trying to shrink his body away from Burton and his knife.

“You want to be heard?” Charlie asked. “Step away from Mr Evans. You’d get more publicity attacking me than him. He’s not going anywhere. You tied him up. I could just walk out and there would be nothing you could do. Then the armed police would come, and you’d never be seen again.”

Burton’s eyes were fixed on Charlie as his brain tried to make sense of the waffle and contradictions Charlie was spouting.

“They’re probably already outside,” Charlie said. “You don’t have long to make up your mind. Trial or disappearance. Publicity or cover-up. All you have to do is step away from Mr Evans.”

Charlie saw the moment Evans realised what was happening, his eyes widening and his body tensing, and Britton saw it, too. Britton whipped round and Charlie dived to the floor,as Eddy stepped through the door and fired the Taser, hitting Britton in the middle of the chest with 50,000 volts.

37

Tuesday evening

By the time paramedics arrived to check Alun Evans, and to seal up his cuts with glue and dressings, the sun had set. Mrs Evans and the three children returned from their day out — Charlie never discovered where they’d been — and there was much crying and hugging. Jeff Britton was taken away in handcuffs, having been arrested for kidnapping, false imprisonment, actual bodily harm and on suspicion of causing an explosion. Crime scene technicians turned up to take fingerprints and photograph bloodstains.

Mags called Eddy to say that the riot at the coast had been contained, and Clywd Police were being praised by the local media forswift and decisive action.Mal Kent had apparently given a superb press conference, which had made the national news. The cells were going to be very full, and local magistrates were being contacted to provide extra courts and thus speedy justice for the rioters. The protestors from Llanfair were almost certainly amongst their number, having abandoned the tiny town for the bright lights and better riots of the seaside. No doubt local solicitors were rubbing their hands at the thought oflots of extra work. Or, given the low rates of pay for legal aid cases, possibly not.

But Charlie felt numb. It was likely that they had caught the man who had blown up Hassan’s takeaway, and injured Ravensbourne and himself. Britton would be remanded in custody for months, then convicted, and sent to prison, where he would probably find plenty of supporters. Or not. Charlie didn’t honestly care. There had been a few hours this evening when he had thought, or ratherhoped, that Britton had killed Unwin and Pettifor. True, he had no motive for Unwin’s murder, but Pettifor would have been at the top of Britton’s hit list. Except Charlie believed Britton’s denial. If he had killed Pettifor, he would have boasted about it. Instead, he had looked blank. Pettifor’s name had meant nothing to Britton. He gave no indication that he knew Mo’s Autoparts was Muslim-owned. All of which meant Charlie still had two unsolved murders, and attention was going to swing back to Patsy. They were back to square one.

It didn’t help that Eddy was on a high, talking excitedly to Will and anyone else who would listen. The big man had saved the day, though he was going to have to answer some questions about why he hadn’t given a warning before firing the Taser. Charlie was just glad he’d been there, and would happily say so.

“Let’s go home,” he said wearily to Eddy and Will. “It’s going to be a long day again tomorrow, and we need some sleep. Well, I do anyway.” Eddy looked like he was ready to go dancing.

Charlie foundTom sitting in the garden in a pair of shorts and nothing else. He had a bottle of beer in one hand, and an e-book reader in the other. The e-reader screen provided the only light. The night was dark, and it was still oppressively hot. Tomstood up as soon as he heard Charlie and patted the reclining chair next to his own.

“Sit down and put your feet up. I’ll get you a beer. Do you want a sandwich? Chicken salad? Ice cream?”

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