Free Party Games by E J Greenway Page B

be back by two.”
    The Parliamentary estate was a big place when one didn’t wish to stop to chat.  He waved at those he knew would support him, if push came to shove, and exchanged jovial words with persuadable colleagues as he passed through Portcullis House, then along the colonnade.  But his mind were on those pictures -
    they weren’t enough for blackmail, but it was indeed a start.  Richmond’s obsession with Culverhouse was an open secret, and any man, especially a recently sacked colleague, who chose to live life on the edge by screwing her, would most likely see himself at the bottom of the Thames.  Politically, of course. But it was Rivers’ wife which could ultimately be the stick with which to beat him into submission.  Rivers was gullible.  A leopard like the ex Chief Whip rarely changed its spots, and once the truth came out, once Anthea knew exactly who she was involved with, once the evidence had played its part.... The seeds of doubt were already planted in Rivers’ mind about Richmond and all that was needed for them to bloom into distrust was a little watering - with a shot or two of whisky.  The guy’s career had taken a nose-dive and Colin would be there, after dark, to watch him drown his sorrows and help him realise that his destiny lay in revenge.
     
     
    Inside the Marquis of Granby pub, the Deputy Leader checked his watch.  If he didn’t turn up soon, he would have venture out into the cool late autumn rain for a fag.  His stomach had begun to complain, but he didn’t feel like eating.  Suppressing his hunger pains he simply ordered a pint of Hobson’s Choice and headed over to one of the few secluded corners of the pub.  He scanned the room, feeling quite uncomfortable in a place he certainly didn't patronise very often. 
    A few minutes past and Colin breathed in sharply, already he was becoming jittery.  Just as he wondered whether he had been stood up, he saw a familiar, overbearing figure walk in, a greatcoat hanging off his substantial frame.  A pair of ageing, watery eyes looked his way, but instead of making a beeline for the politician, the man headed to the bar and ordered a drink.  His voice was deep and his accent thick.  Colin rolled his eyes and waited.
    “Geoff, how nice to see you.  It’s been a while.”  Colin smiled as the man finally approached.  They shook hands, Colin feeling the newspaper editor’s icy leathery fingers pressing into his knuckles.
    Sir Geoffrey Dickenson grinned, cocking an eyebrow and smacking a newspaper onto the table.  The Engager , Colin noted with amusement.  Always good to keep a firm eye on the competition.
      “Yes, it has.  Fifteen bloody months isn’t it?” He boomed, kicking a stool in Colin's direction and lowering himself onto it.  It wasn’t a question, it was a dig.  “And here you are, still fannying about as Richmond’s whipping boy – sorry, deputy, I should say.  Thought you might’ve got shut of him by now, if you were doing your job properly.”  Geoffrey Dickenson gulped his pint, drops of condensation spilling down his chin.  He wiped them away and eyed Colin carefully.  Colin tried not to feel outraged, acutely aware of anyone who may be listening in. “Unless, of course, you’re too chicken to take him on again so soon.”
    “Bit harsh, Geoff.  He did beat me, and some people even like him.”  He mumbled.  Not many people could intimidate him, but he had the uneasy sense that he was being belittled without the recourse of retort.
    “Yeah, well.  Things can change.  I just don’t see you putting much effort in, that’s all.  Saw your interview in The Times a few weeks ago – what’s all this corporate responsibility nonsense?  You’re just turning into one of them, one of Richmond’s stooges.  And I thought you were better than that.”
    The back of Colin's neck prickled.  Colin didn’t have the time or the inclination to argue the toss with a man whose views were