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again, and I will not come after you.’

‘That is not my coin,’ the shadowed figure of Wilhelm Müller replied, pulling another East German Mark out of his pocket. ‘This is the coin that I would flip daily on the Berlin Wall. This is the coin that I flipped to decide a man or woman’s guilt.’

‘Then we use that,’ Rolfe replied, his brave face nothing more than an act, as his stomach churned with fear and trepidation. The shadowed figure paused and then nodded.

‘How will I know you will keep your word?’ Wilhelm asked. ‘You could pass the information to another. Walsh’s son, perhaps. No, we need a more definite end.’

There was a moment of silence.

‘I flip the coin,’ Wilhelm stated. ‘If it lands on the number? You may take me in, shoot me, whatever you need for closure. But if it lands on the compass and a hammer, you will take my service revolver and shoot yourself in the head with it.’

‘You cannot be serious!’ Rolfe exclaimed in anger and surprise, raising the gun to aim at his father. ‘Why would I do that?’

There was a movement as Wilhelm Müller ducked behind a pillar. ‘Two reasons,’ his voice echoed around the crypt. ‘First, because you knew that your last act would rely on chance. And second, because if you do not, I will kill your sister. Painfully, and slowly. You will not catch me here, you will not shoot me. I have three exits and will be invisible to you before you emerge from here. And I will skin her alive, as well as your partner in Berlin, and the people you care about. I will painfully and slowly kill them all.’

A hand emerged at the end of the crypt, holding a coin.

‘Or, you take a chance with fate.’

Rolfe cursed his own stupidity. He’d walked into a trap, convinced that his moral ground was enough to turn the meeting. ‘You’re my father!’ he replied angrily. ‘Doesn’t that mean anything to you?’

‘You have meant nothing to me in over thirty years,’ Wilhelm’s voiced echoed around the crypt. ‘And I will have no concerns when I brutally murder everyone close to you, before leaving you destitute, broken and begging for release.’

There was a long pause.

‘Now, let us play a game.’

21

Loose Ends

Declan heard the gunshot, but thought nothing of it. Hurley was in the middle of the countryside, and shotguns and crow scarers were often heard in the fields around. It wasn’t however until an urgent and quite shaken Anjli called him five minutes later that he realised that the sound had been so much more than that.

A minute later, Declan and Billy were hammering once again on the door to the Snug. After a moment the door opened again, and Karl once more glared out at Declan.

‘This really isn’t—‘ he started, but Declan wasn’t in the mood to discuss politeness, and pulled Karl bodily out of the room.

‘Listen,’ he whispered. ‘We just heard that Rolfe Müller’s been shot. We’re trying to work out what happened, but until then both you and Ilse are potential targets as well.’

Karl stared in shock at Declan.

‘He is dead?’

’Still waiting for confirmation,’ Declan explained. ‘But until we know, Billy here is going to sit with you, and keep the door locked.’

‘You think we are also targets?’ Karl nervously looked into the Snug through the doorway, and Ilse stared in confusion back.

‘Someone tried to kill you yesterday, so you tell me,’ Declan replied. ‘Billy will ensure you’re safe. And keep in view of the bloody CCTV, yeah?’

Billy nodded to Declan as he led Karl into the Snug, and Declan placed a hand on his arm to pause him.

‘Don’t answer the door to anyone except me or Anjli,’ he whispered. Swallowing, Billy nodded, closing the door and leaving Declan alone in the corridor.

He didn’t wait there long though, and as the lock in the door turned, Declan was already sprinting out of the building, en route to the priory, and the crypts.

PC De’Geer was already working hard on crowd duty as Declan arrived; several people in the immediate vicinity had heard the gunshot, and all wanted to know what was going on. Nodding to Declan, De’Geer waved him past as he stood in front of the main entrance to the crypt, a human barrier to the villagers.

‘I swear, if any of you enter this crime scene, I’ll arrest you!’ he shouted, and with his imposing frame and deep, booming voice, the villagers agreed to keep their distance, already backing away.

Anjli was already in the crypt when Declan entered, standing by the entrance, her blue latex gloves already on.

‘Shoes, sir,’ she said, holding out a hand to stop Declan moving in any further. ‘I’ve checked the body, and in doing so have already contaminated the scene. I’d rather we had no more coppers do that.’

‘How did you come to be here?’ Declan asked, peering into the crypt where, near the end, he could see the crumpled body of what had to be Rolfe Müller on the floor. Anjli pulled out her phone.

‘De’Geer and I were at the Rising Sun,’ she explained. ‘The barmaid at the Dew Drop Inn now works there, but she wasn’t on shift. As we came out, we heard the gunshot. We rode up and found people coming out of the church. They said that the shot had come from Old Ladye Place, and we knew Rolfe liked to come here, thanks to Monroe’s notes.’

She held up her phone, now open on a photo app. On it was a closeup image of Rolfe Müller.

‘Until forensics get here, that’s what we have,’ she said as Declan took the phone and scrolled through the images. ‘Looks like he shot himself in the head with a semi-automatic pistol.’

‘Or, he was made to,’ Declan was already pacing around the entrance as he considered this. ‘Could he be another Red Reaper victim?’ He shook his head. ‘No, Ilse and Karl were both in the pub,

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