Law and Fear

By Mary Stout

Lesley, Malcolm, and Julian did the unthinkable. They solved their first case and sent the murderous Hyde behind bars. Their newfound team has had their first victory. Now trouble comes hot on the heels of that victory and threatens to destroy it.

The trio gets news of a dangerous threat on the streets of London—a threat that the city itself thought it stopped decades ago. The notorious Drake brothers have apparently risen from the dead. Crime has increased drastically across the city, bearing the familiar marks of the Drake family’s old brutality. Commissioner Nicholas Drake, the son of one of the late mob brothers, asks Lesley’s crew to help solve the crimes and find out who is resurrecting his late father and uncle’s old gang.

Enter Tommy and Timmy Drake, the commissioner’s younger twin cousins. Two names that have been shrouded in obscurity will now come to be the bane of the trio’s existence. The twins will make the trio’s lives a living hell and scar one of them permanently for the rest of his life.

In the second installment of the London Circle series, Lesley, Malcolm, and Julian will be pushed to their limits. Their faith in their government, in their law enforcement, and in one another will be challenged and damaged. And for one of them, that damage may be final.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Dec 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781662459542

Book preview

Chapter 1

Two weeks earlier…

Malcolm gritted his teeth against the barely perceptible sound of fingernails clicking against fingernails. He was sitting on a worn wooden bench against a glossy stone wall, his feet tapping impatiently against the polished floor.

Seconds later, that same sound finally breached through the wall of his already low patience. Give it a rest, Jules, he hissed, unable to stay quiet.

Julian, who was seated beside him on the same bench, immediately stopped; a guilty look flashed across his blue-gray eyes. Sorry, he apologized, brushing off the picked bits of nail that dusted the knees of his slacks. It’s a nervous habit.

Lesley, who was standing against the wall alongside the bench they were sitting on, released a sigh. A bad habit, if it is anything. He gave Julian a look that Malcolm had seen numerous times. I thought I told you to try to exert some semblance of control?

Malcolm saw Julian dig his picked fingers into his knees. It’s not an easy habit to break, he replied somewhat shortly.

Malcolm expected the politician to make one of his usual sniping remarks, but to his surprise, Lesley merely sighed again and focused his attention on the far wall.

Copying him, Malcolm looked up and down the long hallway on either side of them, taking in the sight of the wide corridors and tall wooden doors that flanked either side of the hallway. Chandeliers dotted the arched ceiling above their heads, finely spaced between glass panels that showed the sky outside.

Malcolm had never been inside the Ministry of Defense building that brushed just against Whitehall before. The whole place was twice the size of a courthouse and looked exactly like one. Upon their arrival, a good half hour before, he had been seized with the desire to roam and explore. Unfortunately though, Lesley had cut that impulse off at the knees. Although disappointed, Malcolm quickly reminded himself that they weren’t there for a tour.

Earlier that morning, Lesley had contacted both him and Julian and told them that he’d finally heard back from Police Commissioner Nicholas Drake about a meeting to discuss the gang activity that had spiked in the past week. It had surprised Malcolm that it had taken Lesley so long to set up a meeting, seeing that the commissioner had contacted Lesley’s brother, Frederick, right away.

The commissioner is a very busy man. Lesley had told them when they had arrived at the ministry. Although he’d sounded businesslike, Malcolm heard the irritation in his words. Even I myself need to make an appointment to see him.

Julian scoffed at the statement. You’d think it should be the other way around.

Lesley flashed his old friend a look, which Malcolm knew was his best attempt at a smile. It should be, he replied, but I am sorry to say that that isn’t the case.

Now here they were, almost an hour after arriving, still waiting. Lesley and Julian both seemed to have no shortage of patience, but Malcolm never had any to begin with at all.

A few minutes later, a door across the hall opened, and a tall woman with tightly bound dark hair stepped out. Her face was a mask of indifference that would’ve easily rivaled Frederick’s.

Commissioner Drake is ready for you now, Mr. Ashcroft, she said, addressing Lesley.

Lesley stepped away from the wall, fluently motioning for Malcolm and Julian to stand. Thank you.

Malcolm followed after Julian and Lesley into the office, fully aware that the commissioner’s secretary was watching him as she closed the door behind them.

The office that they entered was big enough to fit Malcolm’s entire flat. High windows made up an entire wall behind a dark wooden desk. Every other wall, Malcolm noticed, was lined with bookshelves and what he could only assume were law books. A semicircle of three chairs sat facing the massive desk.

Commissioner Nicholas Drake came from around his desk to greet them. He was a tall man, almost as tall as Lesley, with short cropped brown hair that had the first dusting of gray at the temples. His eyes were a dark blue-gray, and he was wearing a lean, rough brown suit.

It’s good to see you again, Lesley, Commissioner Drake said by way of greeting, his voice a soft timbre. He held out his hand to Lesley, his eyes pleasant.

You as well, Nicholas, Lesley replied once they drew apart. He motioned toward Julian and Malcolm. This is—

There’s no need for introductions, Lesley. I know exactly who they are. Nicholas cut Lesley’s attempted introduction off, but his voice was clearly pleasant. Dr. Julian Radcliffe and Sergeant Malcolm Vance—he observed both men with a gleam in his eyes—it’s a pleasure to finally meet you both.

Julian shook hands with the commissioner first, looking only a bit startled that the high-ranking official knew who they were. You as well, sir, he replied politely.

Malcolm’s stomach dropped down to his feet when the commissioner’s eyes turned to him. That pleasant gleam in his eyes shifted into one of delighted interest as they shook hands.

I’ve been meaning to meet with you, Sergeant, he said. I was very pleased to be able to help prove your allegations against your former chief inspector. He sighed. I can only apologize that it took a junior officer to give me the kick I needed to look into Simms’s death.

Malcolm wasn’t sure what to feel; grief for his late chief inspector rose briefly to the surface before he fought it down. I was only doing what I thought was right, he replied, feeling surprisingly modest. Will—he broke off, realizing his slip of formality. "Inspector Simms would’ve wanted justice."

Commissioner Drake nodded. That he would.

Pardon the interruption, Commissioner, Lesley interjected, but would it be all right if we focused on the reason we’re here?

Commissioner Drake looked over at Lesley and gave him an affirmative nod. Right you are. He turned back toward his desk, mindlessly motioning for the three of them to take a seat.

Once they were all settled, Commissioner Drake settled his clasped hands on his desk, attention riveted on the three of them. To begin with, I’d like to apologize to you, Lesley, for not getting back to you sooner. I had to do some follow-ups on my suspicions before I presented them to you.

What suspicions would that be? Lesley asked.

The commissioner’s eyes narrowed a little. How much did Director Ashcroft tell you?

It took barely a second for Malcolm to realize that the commissioner was referring to Frederick. He noted silently that this was the first time he’d heard Lesley’s older brother being called Director Ashcroft.

My brother only relayed to me that the gang violence that has escalated bears signs of the late Drake brothers’ old crew, Lesley replied; his voice pulled Malcolm out of his thoughts. He said that you had noticed it immediately and was quite adamant about your theory.

It is not a theory anymore, sir, Commissioner Drake replied; he suddenly looked a bit uneasy. "I have found direct evidence that the gang activity is being committed by the Drake’s old crew."

But that isn’t possible, Lesley argued, the original Drake brothers were incarcerated in ’94. They have both since passed away. There is no possible way that their old crew has returned.

Malcolm saw Commissioner Drake’s eyes shift from uneasy to downright horrid. The change made his skin prickle with dread.

The gang violence bears similarities to the tactics and methods my father and uncle used when they were in operation, Commissioner Drake said, his tone suddenly as uneasy as his expression. I’ve familiarized myself with my father and uncle’s crimes in the years since, and I can promise you that no outsider could recreate their devastation, which brings me to my theory.

All three of them stared back at the commissioner. Malcolm could feel the air crackle with the suspense.

I believe that the violence is being caused by my cousins, Tommy and Timmy Drake.

Now Malcolm felt the room suddenly grow several degrees colder.

Your cousins? Julian thankfully broke the silence. He was staring at the commissioner with his shock written across his face.

Commissioner Drake nodded. Before my father and uncle were arrested in ’94, my uncle, Danny Drake, fathered twin boys with his wife. He paused, clutching his hands together on his desk. Timothy and Thomas Drake were born in 1983. They were roughly eleven years old when our fathers were arrested.

But what makes you think they’re the ones doing it? Malcolm asked, pleased that his voice didn’t come out as riddled with shock as Julian’s had. "Do they even know who—what their father was?"

Unfortunately, they’ve learned quite enough in the years since, Commissioner Drake replied, sounding genuinely distressed. My aunt Ellen, their mother, tried to shield them from the notoriety surrounding the case and from the Drake name. But she couldn’t stop them from learning on their own.

If what you’ve said so far is correct, Lesley said, speaking for the first time since the revelation, then your cousins have resurrected your father and uncle’s old dynasty, bringing the Drake name back from obscurity.

Commissioner Drake nodded. Malcolm realized that the police official had paled noticeably since he’d started talking about his cousins.

We will take everything you have told us into careful consideration. Lesley rose elegantly from his chair, clasping his hands behind his back. Thank you for your time, Commissioner.

Commissioner Drake nodded in response. Thank you, Mr. Ashcroft.

Recognizing Lesley’s unspoken directive to leave, Malcolm and Julian both got up from their own chairs, said goodbye to the commissioner, and followed Lesley out of the office.

Once they were safely out in the open hallway, Julian broached the first question. Do you think he’s right, Lesley?

Lesley led them a good several feet down the corridor before he replied. I think the commissioner’s suspicions do have merit, he said, but he made no mention of any physical evidence linking his kin to the gang activity, save his own knowledge about his father and uncle’s crimes.

But surely his knowledge of his family’s criminal history is enough to make his fears plausible? Julian argued.

Lesley didn’t answer him; instead, he turned and looked to Malcolm. What is your view on this matter, Sergeant?

Malcolm, who was pleased to be asked his own opinion, shrugged. I think the commissioner’s fear is real enough, he replied. If he really does believe his cousins are behind the gang violence, then that’s reason enough to check them out.

Julian, on Lesley’s other side, looked pleased that Malcolm had agreed with him. Lesley, Malcolm noticed, showed only a tiny fraction of irritation. To both men’s concerns, the politician remained silent as they exited the ministry.

Once they were comfortably seated in the back of the black sedan, Lesley broke the silence. In order to prove Commissioner Drake’s claim that the activity is linked to his family, then we need first to dig into his father and uncle’s history. Once we have a clear picture, we can see if their methods are identical to the methods being used now.

Malcolm and Julian exchanged a look between them; neither one of them was able to keep the smirks off their faces. Not even three weeks ago, the politician wouldn’t have conceded to their opinions so easily. Now he was clearly listening to them without any resistance.

Amazing what a difference a murder investigation makes, Malcolm thought to himself, smirking as they drove away back into the heart of London.

Chapter 2

Barely a half hour later, Julian found himself seated in Lesley’s office. Afternoon sunlight streamed in through the slit windows of the office, adding minimal light to the naturally dim room.

When they arrived back at headquarters a half hour ago, Julian had followed Lesley and Malcolm to Lesley’s office. Upon their arrival, silence filled the room—a silence that surprised Julian and left him sitting patiently in one of the chairs. Lesley sat behind his desk, fingers steepled against his lips. Across the room, Malcolm paced slowly back and forth, his footsteps the only sound amid the silence.

Let’s discuss what we already know about the late Drake brothers, Lesley said ponderously, speaking barely above a murmur. He turned his gaze over to where Malcolm was pacing. Sergeant?

Donovan ‘Donny’ Drake and Daniel ‘Danny’ Drake started their organization in the mid-70s, Malcolm responded on cue, his pacing slowed down. His eyes were faraway, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. They were active through the ’80s and were caught in ’94.

Julian nodded, remembering the minimal research they had done prior to visiting the commissioner. They were ruthless, he added, picturing the psychological profile that he had unearthed along with the police records. They tried to subjugate rival gangs, turning alliances against one another. They killed defectors and rewarded loyalty.

Lesley nodded. Daniel Drake died in ’97. He was stabbed to death during a routine trip to the yard. Donovan Drake died a few years ago from an illness. He sat back in his chair. His eyes taking on the same faraway look as Malcolm’s. Once they were incarcerated, the rest of their crew dispersed—some into hiding, others into obscurity.

The police reports noted that they tried to defect a few of the lower members of the crew, Malcolm said, stopping alongside Lesley’s desk. A few days later, those same members were brutally killed. Apparently, the Drakes got wind of what the police were doing and wanted to send a message.

A very effective one, Julian commented. His stomach had sunk low during Malcolm’s retelling. After that, none of the other members even dared try to defect. The police realized they had no hope of using a defective crew member to arrest them.

Then how were they caught? Malcolm asked. He moved to sit down in the chair beside Julian’s. "The report only talks about the events after the arrest. It doesn’t say anything about how they were caught."

Lesley sighed, an action Julian rarely heard and knew it signified the politician’s frustration. It was never made public, how the Drakes were caught. I was always under the assumption that the police used methods that went against the law in order to apprehend them, which would explain why the events prior to their capture aren’t documented.

The Drakes had everyone in their pockets, Malcolm commented. They blackmailed police officials, lawyers, even members of Parliament. How did they manage to catch them at all when the Drakes had hands in every possible organization?

There was a long pause. Julian noticed that Lesley looked relatively uneasy. From what I can gather, the undermining of the Drakes’ massive web of blackmail and deceit was orchestrated by multiple members of Parliament, MI5, and MI6. The only branch of law enforcement that was not involved was Scotland Yard.

Because they were so deeply corrupted? Julian commented.

I believe so, yes, and because the local police would be the most indiscreet, Lesley replied.

Malcolm sat back in his chair with a sigh. For a long moment, he didn’t speak. When he did, there was a note of suspicion in his voice. The Drakes were arrested in ’94, he repeated, half to himself. He looked across the desk at Lesley. When did your brother become director of MI6?

In 2007, Julian replied absently, his voice oddly quiet, he was deputy director at the time the Drakes were caught.

Lesley nodded at him. A look flashed across his eyes before he spoke. MI6 did have a hand in the arrest, I believe. How far that involvement went, I’m not entirely certain.

Ask Frederick then, Malcolm suggested. If he was deputy director at the time, then he’s bound to remember.

Julian felt a twinge of something in his stomach, and he did his best to hide the wince it caused. Across from him, he was fully aware of Lesley watching him. It might be a good idea, Lesley. He added his support to Malcolm’s.

I will do so in time, Lesley agreed, although Julian heard something strange in his old friend’s voice. Let’s focus on the task at hand before we go any further.

Malcolm released another sigh, this one more frustrated than the last, and shifted in his seat. Julian rubbed at his temple, feeling his head give a responding throb.

I was most curious about the alleged information the commissioner said he received that led him to believe his cousins are to blame for the gang activity. Lesley went on, sitting farther back in his chair. His eyes still had that unfocused look in them. Information he didn’t share with us.

I caught that too, Malcolm remarked with a nod. "All he said was he knew how to recognize his father and uncle’s old methods. He didn’t mention exactly what he’d found that made him suspect his cousins."

Julian felt the pain in his head quickly shift to his other temple, where it throbbed sharply. He took a shaky breath and massaged his other temple, trying to ease the pain.

Our next course of action should be discovering exactly what those methods were, Lesley said. His voice oddly muted to Julian’s ringing ears. And checking out what the supposed gang leaders are using now.

Julian watched Malcolm pull out his phone from his pocket and swipe the screen. I’ll see if Jake can dig around Whitechapel, he commented. His voice too was oddly muted. The Drakes started there. He’d know best where to find the dirt on their dealings.

Julian could feel the pounding in his head getting stronger; he sat forward in his chair, massaging both sides of his head with his fingers. Malcolm’s and Lesley’s voices sounded too quiet even though he knew they were talking normally. His heartbeat was louder to his own ears than he knew it should be.

Both Malcolm and Lesley noticed the sudden change in Julian’s demeanor.

You okay, Jules? Malcolm asked, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

Julian swallowed around the tightening in his throat. Yes, I just…just my head’s pounding.

Do you want some tablets? Lesley offered. He, too, was looking at Julian with the same concern as Malcolm. I can have Agatha fetch you some.

Julian’s stomach tightened in disgust at the thought, and he shakily waved his offer away. I think I… I need to lie down. He got up and quickly made his way out of Lesley’s office, leaving the door open in his wake.

Halfway down the hallway, Julian’s vision blurred and his head spun. He stopped and slumped heavily against the wall, bent over his knees, taking in deep breaths. The floor tilted under him, making him clutch at the wall for balance.

The Drakes had everyone in their pockets. Malcolm’s words rang loudly through his head, causing a fierce stab of pain to sear through Julian’s temples.

Gasping, Julian saw an image of two people, a man and a woman, flash across his mind’s eye. He heard the familiar sound of his sister’s voice, but her voice was muffled. His mind swam; the images blurred, making his stomach cinch tight in response.

Panting, Julian forced his eyes open only to be greeted by the blurred sight of the opposite wall. Breathing heavily, he looked up the hallway in the direction of Lesley’s office. Thankfully, he couldn’t see anything from that far away.

Danny and Donny Drake—the names of the late mob brothers pricked at something at the furthest part of Julian’s memory. But like the images, the clarity eluded him.

Heart pounding and head throbbing, Julian forced himself up straight and ran a hand through his hair, startled by the feel of sweat against his hairline. Confusion ran through him, leaving him feeling even more queasy than before.

Somehow, he knew that the mention of the Drakes caused his headache and the hallucination, but why or even how he knew that was lost on him.

With a final glance up the long hallway, Julian continued walking toward the elevator.

Chapter 3

Both Lesley and Malcolm stared at the open office door for a good minute after Julian had disappeared from sight.

Seems our good doctor has taken a page from your dramatic textbook, Sergeant, Lesley commented, his gaze breaking from his open office door to where Malcolm sat.

Malcolm shot him a look that was half indignant, half irritated.

Lesley merely stared back at him. See that he’s all right, he said, trying to not make it sound like an order. We cannot have our resident psychologist getting ill at the start of a new case.

Malcolm’s irritated look didn’t vanish as he got to his feet. I don’t need to be a doctor to see that he isn’t sick, just exhausted. He looked once toward the open door before looking back at Lesley, his eyes suddenly a more somber shade. It’s barely been a week, Lesley.

Lesley nodded in response. A week ago, they had apprehended Julian’s old colleague, Dr. Edmund Stevenson, for murder. Julian had done the final interrogation, or as he had called it, the final interview, with Stevenson before his trial. Lesley had known the moment he saw his oldest friend afterward that Julian’s morality had taken a fierce blow. Both he and Malcolm had given Julian space afterward so he could have time to come to terms with it, but it was obvious that the doctor was still suffering.

He will pull through, Lesley replied what seemed like minutes later, nodding to himself. He is very resilient. In the meantime, having a new case to focus his attention on will help him immeasurably.

Malcolm nodded slowly in response. Lesley, however, saw a flickering of doubt in the sergeant’s hazel eyes.

Make sure he gets the rest he needs, Lesley instructed him again; this time he allowed some of his own concern into his voice.

Malcolm merely nodded again before he turned and left the office, pulling the door shut behind him.

Finally alone, Lesley leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his chin with his fingers, his mind pulling away from his concern for Julian to focus on the case. The details of their conversation from a few minutes previous flickered across his mind, pulling him under.

Malcolm had a point about asking Frederick about what he knew of the late Drake brothers. Not only that, but if MI6 had had a hand in the Drakes arrest, then Frederick might know the finer details of what happened.

If he was deputy director at the time, then he’s bound to remember. Malcolm’s words rang through his head again, affirming his decision.

Turning in his chair, he opened his laptop and pulled up the video app on the bottom of the toolbar. He clicked on it and brought up Frederick’s number and hit Chat. The miniscreen popped up, showing his reflection, for a few seconds before Frederick appeared on screen.

Do not tell me we’re stooping to video-messaging now as a way of keeping in contact, Frederick sighed, already sounding irritated and more than a little exasperated. You know I can’t stand this form of communication.

Lesley ignored his brother’s blatant annoyance, settling his hands calmly in his lap. I’m sorry you are annoyed, Frederick—he began—but I thought you’d like to hear right away about our meeting with Commissioner Drake.

Frederick, who was seated at his own desk, sat forward to look closer at his computer, his expression barely changed. Go on.

We waited an hour for a meeting that lasted barely fifteen minutes, Lesley replied. The only thing we established was that he fully believes his theory.

That the gang violence is being caused by his younger twin cousins, Frederick replied, not even making it sound like a question. He had that direct look on his face that always irritated Lesley.

Lesley clenched his jaw, trying to push aside his frustration that his brother clearly knew more than they had going into the meeting. For a moment, he debated asking Frederick how he already knew what the commissioner’s theory was, but he knew, instinctually, that he wouldn’t like the answer.

The commissioner told me of his theory when we spoke last week, Frederick explained when he caught the look on his brother’s face.

And you didn’t think to inform me of it because?

There’s little to no evidence supporting his theory, Frederick replied. Did he mention any evidence to you?

Lesley shook his head. He only said that he was adamant that the crimes are being committed by his kin, but he gave no further evidence except to say he was experienced enough with his father and uncle’s old crimes to recognize their methods.

That is unsurprising, Frederick said, sitting back in his high-backed chair, looking unmoved. The commissioner has made it his personal business to learn everything there was to know about his father and uncle’s old gang. But his interest is a biased one.

Because it is personal? Lesley asked. He had noticed during their meeting earlier that the commissioner had gotten more and more uncomfortable the more he’d spoken about his family’s dynasty.

Frederick didn’t nod; instead, he merely blinked. What is your next move?

I have made it clear that in order to prove or disprove the commissioner’s theory, we need to look into the methods the original Drakes used. Having done that, we can then move on to see if those methods match the ones used now, Lesley replied, pleased that he, Malcolm, and Julian had a basic plan to begin with. Sergeant Vance has reached out to his reporter contact in Whitechapel to look into the Drakes’ history there.

Frederick finally nodded, but it was a slow, almost imperceptible movement. What about Dr. Radcliffe?

What about him?

Is he fit enough to begin another investigation?

Lesley’s eyes narrowed. He is still a bit shaken by recent events, he admitted, remembering Julian’s abrupt departure a few minutes ago. But a new case will surely put him to right again.

Frederick surprisingly looked displeased by his brother’s response.

You are, I have no doubt, wondering why I contacted you? Lesley asked.

Observant as always, little brother.

Sergeant Vance brought up a good point to me a few minutes ago, Lesley continued, ignoring his brother’s snide remark with the best of his willpower. He said I should contact you and ask what you remember about the Drake case.

Frederick’s eyes narrowed. Why on earth would that matter?

MI6 was one of the three main branches of law enforcement that had a hand in arresting the Drake brothers, Lesley replied. You were deputy director at that time, were you not?

I was, yes.

Then you would surely remember the details of the case? Lesley poised his words as both a question and a statement, studying his brother calmly. At the very least, MI6’s involvement with the arrest.

Frederick remained sitting back in his chair, but Lesley noticed a telltale stiffness to his brother’s posture. I wasn’t primarily involved in the proceedings, he admitted reluctantly. Uncle handled most of it, being director.

Surely he allowed you to have some sort of involvement? Lesley said, surprised by his brother’s answer. You were deputy director, surely Uncle would’ve trusted you enough to be informed.

It wasn’t a matter of trust, Frederick replied, his tone slightly admonishing, although there wasn’t much conviction in the words. Believe me, I wanted to be involved. I wanted to help. He was adamant that I know very little, for security reasons.

Lesley heard what his brother wasn’t saying in those words. He didn’t know how much corruption the agency had sustained.

Precisely, Frederick said, nodding, but his eyes remained oddly still, almost frozen. He was paranoid in those days, but his paranoia didn’t go unwarranted. The Drakes had their hands in every agency and law enforcement branch in the country. No one knew who was friend or foe. It was a dangerous, dark time.

Lesley remembered; he felt the ghost of a chill run down his spine. "That being said, what were you privy to? Uncle can’t have left you completely in the dark."

Frederick shifted in his chair and sat forward; the rigidness to his posture was even more pronounced as he leaned closer to his screen. Uncle had only a small group within MI6 that was involved in the arrest. It was a small enough team that it went largely unnoticed by the rest of the agency. He informed me of the team but refused to let me be involved with it. I always assumed it was because he wished to keep me safe.

This was something Lesley had a hard time believing. Uncle Harmon wasn’t known for being sentimental, Frederick, he reminded his brother. You knew that better than anyone else.

Frederick exhaled slowly; the action, one of the few telltale signs that Lesley knew, signaled his brother’s distress. The display of it now, plus his confusion, piqued his interest. The fact that Frederick didn’t respond also said a lot.

So you have no details to share? Lesley pressed on, unable to believe his brother knew practically nothing about the original investigation. Nothing that’ll help us? Nothing whatsoever to explain how MI6 helped bring the Drakes down?

I’m afraid not. Frederick’s eyes focused on Lesley’s, the gleam in them noticeably fierce. I wish I could help. I really do, but I know as little as you do.

Lesley was already shaking his head. I don’t believe you, he said. You’ve always made it your business to know everything, no matter how insubstantial the thing may be. I cannot believe you are completely ignorant of the details of your own agency’s involvement.

Frederick didn’t reply; he simply studied his brother’s face, completely calm and distant.

I sincerely hope you are not lying to me, Frederick, Lesley commented, studying his brother’s masked expression.

I have no reason to lie to you, Lesley, Frederick replied, I would hope you would think better of me than that.

And yet that hope rarely comes to fruition, Lesley replied back.

Frederick remained silent for a moment, merely watching Lesley through his screen. I’m afraid I must leave you for now, he said. I have some urgent business to attend to. He gave Lesley a formal dip of his chin. Keep me informed of your findings, dear brother.

I will try to honor that request, Lesley snipped back.

Frederick flashed him a crooked, forced smile before his video feed went blank, signaling the end of the call.

Lesley waited a few moments before he slowly, thoughtfully, closed his computer screen. His fingers resting on the top of it, his thoughts were already far away.

The door to his office opened, and Malcolm appeared, with his phone clutched in one hand. Jake just texted me, he said, motioning with his phone. He sounded oddly out of breath. He said he found some things that he wants to share with us. Jules and I will see him tomorrow at his office.

Lesley merely nodded; his attention was still focused on his conversation with his brother.

Lesley?

Lesley looked up to see Malcolm watching him. That is good news, Sergeant, he said absently.

All right, what’s happened? Malcolm came up to Lesley’s desk, pocketing his phone and then crossing his arms. You’ve got that look on your face.

Lesley tapped his fingers against the top of his laptop. I took your advice and contacted Frederick.

What did he say?

A lot of nothing, Lesley replied, his eyes unfocused as he replayed his conversation with his brother in his head. He said that he wasn’t privy to much during the Drakes investigation. He claims he knows little, if anything at all.

Malcolm