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secret partner in GeoSpec. Even if just by association. There is also the suggestion from sources of information, and human interaction, that Sir Ian Snell paid favours to advance Hugo Hollandrake’s political career. I have commissioned a team of forensic accountants to investigate both men’s accounts and a connection has been made. It’s tenuous, but forensic accountants are skilled at spotting such links. They pick at a thread and unravel it.”

“And GeoSpec has won the tender for the Goliath missile contract,” Caroline commented flatly. “Quite the mother of a conflict of interests, I should imagine.”

“And then some.” Simon Mereweather interjected. “Sir Hugo Hollandrake has been a pivotal role in championing Goliath. His announcement yesterday that Goliath was now secured and orders for the motherboards from GeoSpec has surprised defence commentators and business insiders alike. I suppose it seems strange to come on the back of Ian Snell’s death, but he has committed the government. Some argue that the deal was already cemented, others venture that the deal shores up GeoSpec and protects British jobs and further investment by the company. And he has always advocated GeoSpec as a British company from the start. Not only has he pushed GeoSpec as the only British company in the tender, with the angle of keeping employment in the UK, but he has defended the country’s need for security by using a British company in such a security conscious project. The Trident system could have been upgraded. Lord knows we’ll likely never use the damned things anyway, but when Hollandrake served as Defence Minister, he set the ball rolling with Goliath, committed it to contract and investment, knowing that it needed a completely new dedicated processing system and that GeoSpec was his choice. Now he’s Home Secretary, and the remit for the country’s defence still lies with him, ultimately ends with him, he has kept the pressure on to use GeoSpec, even when several Indian tech companies could do the work for half the cost. Hollandrake argued vehemently that in post-Brexit Britain, we should look to our own tech companies to innovate, especially in matters of defence, rather than importing from countries with less ethical workforce values.”

“We’re on the brink here,” Amherst said quietly. “Enough to bring down not just the Home Secretary, but the entire government as well.”

“Might not be such a dreadful thing,” Ramsay mused dryly.

Amherst shook his head. “Elections are fine. That’s just the democratic process and that’s what we ultimately work for. But the country isn’t in a place where it can cope with shock resignations and snap elections.”

“But Sir Hugo can’t get away with this!” Caroline blurted. She took a moment to regain composure, then said, “He’s used power and influence for his own gain.”

“Well that’s about three-hundred MP’s to keep him company then,” Mereweather chided.

“You know what I mean, Simon,” Caroline said. “This is on an unprecedented scale.”

“We’re not seeing the whole picture,” said King. “Okay, a member of parliament, a cabinet minister, didn’t declare a business interest. Steered a decision towards his investment. It happens. It’s not right, but it won’t change. MP’s are self-serving idiots with less morals and more greed than the average person. Hollandrake may have been involved with Snell’s company, but what does that mean considering recent events? How does Caroline’s experiences in South Africa link to it? Somebody has someone inside the South African Secret Service who gave up an agent, could arrange not one attempted hit on a British intelligence officer, but two. That’s a big payoff for certain. Those forensic accountants need to start looking for a link to the Home Secretary or Helena Snell at the very least.”

“Caroline, what did you learn from the prisoner?” Amherst asked. “What information could he give you about this sniper?”

“Dark hair, tanned or dark skin, foreign, or at least foreign to a South African. A bit vague on that. A scar on his cheek. Cold eyes.”

“That’s not a lot,” Mereweather commented flatly.

“It’s a start,” said King.

Caroline shrugged. “Badenhorst said he was a supreme shot though. He shot a springbok at seven-hundred yards with a varmint rifle.”

“That’s good?” Amherst asked. “What the bloody hell is a springbok? It’s a rugby team, isn’t it?”

“A gazelle,” Caroline said. “Like a deer.”

Ramsay looked at Mereweather. “Sounds good, is it good?”

Mereweather shrugged. “What’s a varmint rifle?”

“Trust me, that’s good,” said King. “Highly dubious, even. It’s that good.”

“He hit both the brothers at over five-thousand metres,” Caroline added. “Closer to six.”

King nodded. The marksman was out of his league, he wouldn’t mind admitting it. But it was the shot from the farmhouse across the valley that intrigued him the most. Why had they taken three shots to hit Snell? It didn’t sit right with him. Nothing ventured, he threw it out there, “That’s all well and good,” said King. “But he’s not the same sniper that shot Ian Snell.”

“That, again,” Amherst said. “Amanda Cunningham was adamant that Snell was shot.”

“Oh, he was shot alright. There was never any doubt about that,” King said. “But he wasn’t killed by the bullet. He was dead long before he was shot.”

“How do you figure?” asked Amherst, a little impatiently.

“I found two more bullets at the scene. Two bullets that Amanda Cunningham missed during her investigation of the crime scene. Each one would have smashed into that granite wall like a stone hammer. It would have made a hell of a lot of noise.”

“You know that for a fact?” Mereweather asked.

“I’ve had enough rounds land near me to know, Simon. And I know some of the heavier Russian or Soviet stock long-range stuff, similar in size to that of point-three-three-eight, makes a serious amount of noise hitting a wall next to you.”

Merewether shrugged. “Fair enough.”

“And then there would be the echo. Supressed or not, there would have been the sonic boom from the bullet

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