Page 56 of End Game
‘Why?’ pressed Artemisia, who smelled the scent of a story.
‘I don’t know the full details,’ admitted Kelly, ‘but there’s no doubt how they feel about each other and, despite the fact she’s now wearing an engagement ring, they always look so unhappy.’
‘What’s their problem?’ asked Artemisia, wishing she could write down every word. She glanced to her left, while trying not to make it too obvious that she was looking at them. ‘They look ideal for each other.’
‘Except she’s Russian and he’s French,’ said Kelly, ‘so there has to be something we don’t know about.’
Artemisia took a second look at the couple and wondered if her exclusive was sitting at the next table, holding hands.
Tuesday 31 July – day 5 of the Games
AFEW MINUTES AFTER ELEVEN O’CLOCKthe following morning, a Silver Cloud (last year’s model) drove into Middle Temple and parked next to Faulkner’s Rolls-Royce.
‘Longe’s on his way up,’ said Booth Watson, as he glancedout of the window. ‘He’s accompanied by a couple of East End hoodlums who could have come out of central casting.’
‘Why am I not surprised?’ said Miles.
A few moments later, the door burst open and in marched a man who was dressed in an open-necked red shirt, a light blue suit and a pair of over-priced trainers. Without being asked, Longe sat down in the only comfortable chair in the room, while the two thugs hovered a pace behind him.
‘I presume you asked to see me,’ began Longe, without introducing himself, ‘to discuss terms for my stadium deal.’
‘I have given the matter some thought,’ admitted Faulkner, ‘and I believe we may be able to come to an agreement, and if we do Mr Booth Watson will start drafting a contract. However, as part of that agreement, I need to seek your advice on a subject you’re considered to be an expert on.’
‘There’s a lot of those, Mr Faulkner,’ said Longe, ‘so which one do you have in mind?’
‘Drugs.’
‘Whatever it is you or your friends need,’ said Longe, ‘be assured I can supply it at the right price. And, not unlike your silk,’ he added, glancing in Booth Watson’s direction, ‘I charge for my advice by the minute.’
Miles waited for Longe to stop laughing at his own joke, before he said, ‘I feel sure the possibility of a nine-million-pound investment in your stadium project, with one million paid in advance, should prove quite sufficient.’
Longe shrugged his shoulders. ‘So, what d’you need?’
Miles paused, before asking, ‘If I wanted to spike an athlete’s urine sample, just after they’d competed in a race, would you be able to supply an illegal substance that would guarantee he or she would be disqualified?’
Longe realized he was now in the driving seat.
‘Difficult, but not impossible,’ was his immediate response. ‘But I have to ask myself, Mr Faulkner, could this possibly be somehow connected to the Olympics? Or would that be too much of a coincidence?’
Although Miles didn’t answer the question, he was fast coming to realize Longe was a man he couldn’t afford to underestimate. ‘But you still haven’t answered my question,’ he said.
‘Patience, Mr Faulkner,’ said Longe, as he extracted a gold cigar case from an inside pocket, took out a Havana and clipped off the end, letting it fall onto the carpet. He then leant back and allowed one of his henchmen to light it. He inhaled deeply, before blowing out a cloud of smoke in the direction of Booth Watson, who started coughing.
‘Turinabol,’ Longe eventually advised, as if he were recommending a prescription for a headache. ‘And I would be only too happy to supply you with the exact amount you’ll need. However, I have to warn you, it’s a fine balance. You must drop just enough of the drug into the sample bottle to convince the testers it gave the athlete concerned an undoubted advantage, but not so much that the authorities become suspicious.’
‘That certainly wasn’t worth a million,’ said Miles. ‘Any street dealer worth his salt could have told me that.’
‘Patience, Mr Faulkner,’ said Longe, ‘and you’ll find out what else I’m about to tell you, which is worth every penny of a million.’
Faulkner waited impatiently.
‘First, you have to understand that when it comes to drug testing, the Brits are a bunch of amateurs. Especially when they are up against the Russians, who are professionals and have been flouting the system for several years.’
Faulkner had to acknowledge he was dealing with a pro.
‘However,’ Longe continued, ‘I must admit that the Americans are fast catching on to what they are up to, and it won’t be too long before the Russians are caught red-handed – a pun I feel sure you’ll appreciate, Mr Faulkner.’
Faulkner frowned, painfully aware that Longe now held all the aces.
