like one of the lads, but when he’s on company business it
is Your Lordship all the way.”
Dee Looked Puzzled. “His Lordship?”
“ Yes of course. Arthur Hickstead. You must have heard of him,
surely? Lord Hickstead of Brighouse.”
DS Fellowes raised his hand for a high five and Dee slapped it
as they both spoke simultaneously. “LH. Yes!”
Tony Craven looked at them, trying to work out what he had
said that was causing so much jubilation.
Chapter 2 2
Atkins Garretson Palmer, College Hill, London. Friday
7:35pm.
The car was silent as we drove back into town. I think we were
both disappointed at what had seemed to be a firm lead. We were
heading towards College Hill to meet up with the others when
Inspector Boniface’s phone rang. It was DS Fellowes calling. The
Inspector pressed the loudspeaker button and answered.
“ OK Fellowes, you’re on loudspeaker. We’re just coming into
College Hill. I’m afraid we hit a dead end.”
There was an electric excitement on the other end of the phone
that transmitted across the ether just as surely as did the
voices.
“ We think we might have found LH,” Fellowes said, almost in
harmony with Dee. They were keen to tell us all, but Boniface asked
them to save it for the car as we were pulling up the AGP’s
offices.
A few moments later Dee and DS Fellowes virtually sprang out
of the doors and headed to the cars, laughing and chatting as if
they were having fun. I felt a pang of jealousy.
They opened the car door and slid into the seat next to me. As
soon as they were seated they began explaining how they had
uncovered an LH after all, and when they explained that the L
signified Lord and was not in fact a name, both Boniface and I took
a sharp intake of breath.
It seemed incredible that a Lord would stoop to blackmail.
Moreover, why choose me? Lord Hickstead. It was unfathomable. Yet
something seemed to tug at the furthest recesses of my memory. I
knew that name from somewhere, I was sure. Then something clicked,
the realisation hitting me like a train.
“ Oh, no, no, no!” I said out loud, and everyone in the car
looked at me.
“ What is it?” asked Dee. “Are you all right?”
I was fine, but I had just put the pieces together and it hit
me like a revelation. I now knew why a peer of the realm would
target me, a mere loss adjuster.
Chapter 2 3
Dyson Brecht Offices, Park Street, Leeds: Friday 15th
June,
6pm. Nine Years Earlier.
Some people go Barbados for the summer. Some go to Spain. I
get to go to Leeds. Now, there is nothing wrong with Leeds. It’s a
great city; plenty to do, plenty of women, but somehow I would have
preferred Barbados. Unfortunately, as Toby explained to me, the
Barbados office didn’t have a manager in hospital with a burst
appendix, whereas the Leeds office did. That was how I found myself
standing in, holidays on hold, looking forward to a few weeks in
Yorkshire. My main regret was that, as the football season had
already ended, I would not get the chance to watch Leeds United at
Elland Road.
Norman was the last to leave the office on that particular
day, as he usually was. A typical dour Yorkshireman, he was steady
and reliable. If I were in Toby’s shoes I would have left him in
charge rather than sending in a relatively inexperienced
23-year-old Londoner. I packed my briefcase and headed towards the
door. The Balti House on the ground floor was opening up in
readiness for its evening customers, and the cooking smells wafted
in through the open windows. Up on the sixth floor it smelled
delicious.
I closed the last window as the phone rang. It was the
landline. I reluctantly picked it up, dread hanging heavy in the
pit of my stomach like an undigested meal. “Dyson Brecht, good
evening.”
“ Josh, Josh, Josh, you’re a lifesaver!” The voice was heavy
with local dialect. I recognised it as belonging to Eddie from Dale
County Insurance, the Leeds office’s biggest customer.
“ I haven’t agreed to anything yet,
is Your Lordship all the way.”
Dee Looked Puzzled. “His Lordship?”
“ Yes of course. Arthur Hickstead. You must have heard of him,
surely? Lord Hickstead of Brighouse.”
DS Fellowes raised his hand for a high five and Dee slapped it
as they both spoke simultaneously. “LH. Yes!”
Tony Craven looked at them, trying to work out what he had
said that was causing so much jubilation.
Chapter 2 2
Atkins Garretson Palmer, College Hill, London. Friday
7:35pm.
The car was silent as we drove back into town. I think we were
both disappointed at what had seemed to be a firm lead. We were
heading towards College Hill to meet up with the others when
Inspector Boniface’s phone rang. It was DS Fellowes calling. The
Inspector pressed the loudspeaker button and answered.
“ OK Fellowes, you’re on loudspeaker. We’re just coming into
College Hill. I’m afraid we hit a dead end.”
There was an electric excitement on the other end of the phone
that transmitted across the ether just as surely as did the
voices.
“ We think we might have found LH,” Fellowes said, almost in
harmony with Dee. They were keen to tell us all, but Boniface asked
them to save it for the car as we were pulling up the AGP’s
offices.
A few moments later Dee and DS Fellowes virtually sprang out
of the doors and headed to the cars, laughing and chatting as if
they were having fun. I felt a pang of jealousy.
They opened the car door and slid into the seat next to me. As
soon as they were seated they began explaining how they had
uncovered an LH after all, and when they explained that the L
signified Lord and was not in fact a name, both Boniface and I took
a sharp intake of breath.
It seemed incredible that a Lord would stoop to blackmail.
Moreover, why choose me? Lord Hickstead. It was unfathomable. Yet
something seemed to tug at the furthest recesses of my memory. I
knew that name from somewhere, I was sure. Then something clicked,
the realisation hitting me like a train.
“ Oh, no, no, no!” I said out loud, and everyone in the car
looked at me.
“ What is it?” asked Dee. “Are you all right?”
I was fine, but I had just put the pieces together and it hit
me like a revelation. I now knew why a peer of the realm would
target me, a mere loss adjuster.
Chapter 2 3
Dyson Brecht Offices, Park Street, Leeds: Friday 15th
June,
6pm. Nine Years Earlier.
Some people go Barbados for the summer. Some go to Spain. I
get to go to Leeds. Now, there is nothing wrong with Leeds. It’s a
great city; plenty to do, plenty of women, but somehow I would have
preferred Barbados. Unfortunately, as Toby explained to me, the
Barbados office didn’t have a manager in hospital with a burst
appendix, whereas the Leeds office did. That was how I found myself
standing in, holidays on hold, looking forward to a few weeks in
Yorkshire. My main regret was that, as the football season had
already ended, I would not get the chance to watch Leeds United at
Elland Road.
Norman was the last to leave the office on that particular
day, as he usually was. A typical dour Yorkshireman, he was steady
and reliable. If I were in Toby’s shoes I would have left him in
charge rather than sending in a relatively inexperienced
23-year-old Londoner. I packed my briefcase and headed towards the
door. The Balti House on the ground floor was opening up in
readiness for its evening customers, and the cooking smells wafted
in through the open windows. Up on the sixth floor it smelled
delicious.
I closed the last window as the phone rang. It was the
landline. I reluctantly picked it up, dread hanging heavy in the
pit of my stomach like an undigested meal. “Dyson Brecht, good
evening.”
“ Josh, Josh, Josh, you’re a lifesaver!” The voice was heavy
with local dialect. I recognised it as belonging to Eddie from Dale
County Insurance, the Leeds office’s biggest customer.
“ I haven’t agreed to anything yet,
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