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Some months later, Garth Williams met Chief Inspector Lorne Michaels in the Black Bull, ostensibly to have a few pints together. While the two had all but become friends, they nevertheless prudently stayed in contact.

He’s looking old, Lorne thought to himself in shock. The case had taken its toll on Garth and he appeared much older than his forty-six years.

‘Funny how quickly the media hoopla died down,’ Garth told him. ‘Parliament handled it surprisingly well, though.’ He said this grudgingly, a sentiment the two men shared.

‘Yes. Seems Parliamentary Democracy is far more resilient than it appears. It’s a damn good thing they closed ranks against the offenders but I can’t say I like the outcome. Sure, it made the buggers back off, but I still don’t sense anything like cooperation coming from their corner. Should’ve expected that but it still makes me sick.’

‘Yes, well, that was to be expected. There’s no way they would set a precedent by having any politician judged by the same standards as us hoi polloi.’

‘What did happen to the gunmen?’ Lorne asked. He wasn’t expecting a direct answer, but it had got out that the gunmen had been removed from prison, never to be seen or heard from again, so he was naturally curious. To his surprise, Garth answered.




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