standing next to Marcus Morris, the chairman of LOCOG. Morris had been a popular Minister of Sport in a previous Labour government.
The two men shook hands.
‘An honour,’ Knight said as he shook Morris’s hand.
Morris said, ‘I need to hear from you exactly what Richard Guilder said before he died regarding Denton Marshall.’
Knight told him, finishing with, ‘The currency scam had nothing to do with the Olympics. It was greed on Guilder’s part. I’ll testify to that.’
Morris shook Knight’s hand again. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want there to be any hint of impropriety hanging over these Games. But it does nothing to make any of us feel any better about the loss of Denton. It’s a tragedy.’
‘In too many ways to count.’
‘Your mother seems to be holding up.’
Indeed, upon their arrival Amanda had been showered with sympathy and was now somewhere in the crowd behind them.
‘She’s a strong person, and when this Cronus maniac claimed that Denton was crooked she got angry, very angry. Not a good thing.’
‘No, I suppose not,’ Morris said, and smiled at last. ‘And now I’ve got a speech to give.’
‘And an Olympics to open,’ Jack said.
‘That too,’ Morris said, and walked away.
Jack looked out the window at the huge audience, his eyes scanning the roofline.
Knight noticed and said, ‘Security seems brilliant, Jack. It took more than an hour for my mother and I to get through screening at Stratford. And the blokes with the weapons were all Gurkhas.’
‘World’s most fearsome warriors,’ Jack said, nodding.
‘Do you need me somewhere?’
‘We’re fine,’ Jack said. ‘Enjoy the show. You’ve earned it.’
Knight looked around. ‘By the way, where’s Lancer? Poor form to miss his own party.’
Jack winked. ‘That’s a secret. Mike said to thank you again. In the meantime, I think you should introduce me to your mother so I can offer my condolences.’
Knight’s mobile buzzed in his pocket. ‘Of course. One second, Jack.’
He dug out the phone, saw that Hooligan was calling and answered just as the lights in the stadium dimmed and the audience began to cheer.
‘I’m at the stadium,’ Knight said. ‘The opening ceremony’s starting.’
‘Sorry to bother you, but some of us have to work,’ Hooligan snapped. ‘I got results on that hair sample you sent over this morning. They’re—’
A trumpet fanfare erupted from every speaker in the stadium, drowning out what Hooligan had just said.
‘Repeat that,’ Knight said, sticking his finger in his ear.
‘The hair in Cronus’s envelope and Selena Farrell’s hair,’ Hooligan yelled. ‘They fuckin’ match!’
Chapter 38
‘WE’VE GOT CRONUS!’ Knight said in a hoarse whisper as he hung up. A powerful spotlight broke the darkness, fixing on a lone figure crouched in the middle of the stadium floor.
‘What?’ Jack Morgan said, surprised.
‘Or one of his Furies, anyway,’ Knight said, and then described the match. ‘Farrell’s house was razed to make way for this stadium. She said publicly that the people who did it to her were going to pay, and she completely flipped when we played the flute music for her.’
‘Call Pottersfield,’ Jack advised. ‘Have her go to Farrell’s house. Put her under surveillance until they can get a warrant.’
Out in the stadium a clarinet solo started and from the corner of his eye, Knight saw the figure on the stadium floor rise. He wore green and carried a bow. A quiver of arrows was slung across his back. Robin Hood?
‘Unless Farrell’s in the stadium,’ Knight said, anxiety rising in his chest.
‘They’ve got names attached to every ticket somewhere,’ Jack said. He started moving away from the window towards the exit, with Knight trailing after him.
Behind them the crowd roared as a spectacle designed by British film-maker Danny Boyle moved into high gear, depicting through song and dance the rich history of London. Knight
The two men shook hands.
‘An honour,’ Knight said as he shook Morris’s hand.
Morris said, ‘I need to hear from you exactly what Richard Guilder said before he died regarding Denton Marshall.’
Knight told him, finishing with, ‘The currency scam had nothing to do with the Olympics. It was greed on Guilder’s part. I’ll testify to that.’
Morris shook Knight’s hand again. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want there to be any hint of impropriety hanging over these Games. But it does nothing to make any of us feel any better about the loss of Denton. It’s a tragedy.’
‘In too many ways to count.’
‘Your mother seems to be holding up.’
Indeed, upon their arrival Amanda had been showered with sympathy and was now somewhere in the crowd behind them.
‘She’s a strong person, and when this Cronus maniac claimed that Denton was crooked she got angry, very angry. Not a good thing.’
‘No, I suppose not,’ Morris said, and smiled at last. ‘And now I’ve got a speech to give.’
‘And an Olympics to open,’ Jack said.
‘That too,’ Morris said, and walked away.
Jack looked out the window at the huge audience, his eyes scanning the roofline.
Knight noticed and said, ‘Security seems brilliant, Jack. It took more than an hour for my mother and I to get through screening at Stratford. And the blokes with the weapons were all Gurkhas.’
‘World’s most fearsome warriors,’ Jack said, nodding.
‘Do you need me somewhere?’
‘We’re fine,’ Jack said. ‘Enjoy the show. You’ve earned it.’
Knight looked around. ‘By the way, where’s Lancer? Poor form to miss his own party.’
Jack winked. ‘That’s a secret. Mike said to thank you again. In the meantime, I think you should introduce me to your mother so I can offer my condolences.’
Knight’s mobile buzzed in his pocket. ‘Of course. One second, Jack.’
He dug out the phone, saw that Hooligan was calling and answered just as the lights in the stadium dimmed and the audience began to cheer.
‘I’m at the stadium,’ Knight said. ‘The opening ceremony’s starting.’
‘Sorry to bother you, but some of us have to work,’ Hooligan snapped. ‘I got results on that hair sample you sent over this morning. They’re—’
A trumpet fanfare erupted from every speaker in the stadium, drowning out what Hooligan had just said.
‘Repeat that,’ Knight said, sticking his finger in his ear.
‘The hair in Cronus’s envelope and Selena Farrell’s hair,’ Hooligan yelled. ‘They fuckin’ match!’
Chapter 38
‘WE’VE GOT CRONUS!’ Knight said in a hoarse whisper as he hung up. A powerful spotlight broke the darkness, fixing on a lone figure crouched in the middle of the stadium floor.
‘What?’ Jack Morgan said, surprised.
‘Or one of his Furies, anyway,’ Knight said, and then described the match. ‘Farrell’s house was razed to make way for this stadium. She said publicly that the people who did it to her were going to pay, and she completely flipped when we played the flute music for her.’
‘Call Pottersfield,’ Jack advised. ‘Have her go to Farrell’s house. Put her under surveillance until they can get a warrant.’
Out in the stadium a clarinet solo started and from the corner of his eye, Knight saw the figure on the stadium floor rise. He wore green and carried a bow. A quiver of arrows was slung across his back. Robin Hood?
‘Unless Farrell’s in the stadium,’ Knight said, anxiety rising in his chest.
‘They’ve got names attached to every ticket somewhere,’ Jack said. He started moving away from the window towards the exit, with Knight trailing after him.
Behind them the crowd roared as a spectacle designed by British film-maker Danny Boyle moved into high gear, depicting through song and dance the rich history of London. Knight
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