Trapped - Tony Blair in the Wilderness

...Tony and his boss Aristotle Paterson escape the clutches of the man from the Faroe's and the rest of the fishermen...but the noose tightens...



Outside the Blue Bell, Paterson was trying to keep up with me and loosening his tie.

“Forget her, sir. We’re not in this, and we never were. You nearly had it right but you missed out on several major details. We never did deals with any fishermen. Connie isn’t reliable because she’s the man from the Faroe’s daughter.”

I stopped dead in the square, and Paterson walked into me. Paterson had fallen into my trap.

“Mrs. Harris’s sister is Connie’s mother?”

“Correct, Tony. I suggest you don’t do any more confiding unless you want to wind-up in one of their nets.”

“Like Jim. Tell me what happened to Jim, Paterson?”

“I’d tell you if I knew.”

“One hundred and ten per cent bullshit.”

Setting off towards Mrs. Harris’s, I could see the circle of light outside her front door and the steps. Aristotle Paterson was shouting slow down. I looked back, but Paterson wasn’t shouting slow down at all.

An arm went round my neck, which was jolly unsporting because I wasn’t ready and it really, really hurt. My arm was twisted up my back. These people had to be CIA trained triple agent Russian detective type spies at the very least to overpower me. I was pushed against the lamp post alongside Paterson.

“This is the local trouble I warned you about, sir. It’s all your fault, sir. Thanks very much, Tony, sir.”

“Well, you know, if you will play out with the big boys.”

Three men lined up. The man in the middle looked up—the light striking his chiselled face. The man from CID didn’t smile, but there was a hint of satisfaction on his case-hardened face.

“I’d like a word with you two about a Mrs. Francis-Prior.”

...to be continued...