Newton’s Fire

II

Walters had just reached the outskirts of Oxford when Croke called to let him know they’d come up dry in Crane Court and were switching their search to the old Ashmolean instead. ‘What do you want us to do?’ he asked.

‘Hold off,’ Croke told him. ‘We’ll be coming down ourselves. We’ll take care of everything.’

‘Including Luke and the others?’ asked Walters. ‘Only they can cause us real grief, remember?’

‘I’m well aware of that, thank you. And I said I’ll take care of it. Anyway, it’s too late for you lot to do anything. My friends already have the place surrounded.’

‘Whatever you say.’ Walters ended the call and drove up Broad Street all the same. Sure enough, there were dark figures in a pair of cars parked across the road from the museum, and strange shadows in nearby alleys.

‘I don’t like this,’ muttered Kieran. ‘Too much bloody law.’

‘The boss knows what he’s doing.’

‘Yeah. Looking after his own interests, not ours.’

‘Our interests are his interests. If we go down, he has to realize we can take him with us.’

‘If you say so.’

‘I do.’ But he didn’t feel as confident as he made it sound. He drove on, guided by his SatNav, until he found the red BMW with the black soft top parked exactly where it was meant to be. Dark and unoccupied. He drove on a little way, found an empty spot with a decent line of sight and reversed into it. Maybe Luke and the others were hiding out in the museum. Maybe they weren’t. Either way, if they ever made it back to their car, Walters intended to make them regret it.