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They took the motorway north, then headed west into anonymous suburbia, stopping in front of a pair of wrought iron gates in the centre of a two-metre-high wall that extended about fifty metres on each side. Elbert reached out and ran a security card through a slot, the gates opened just long enough for them to drive through before clanging closed. Immediately behind the wall was a sealed parking area surrounded by six identical townhouses. Expensive cars were parked in front of four. They pulled up beside the house nearest the gate.
Thats right, lay the blame on me!
Youre a born con man.
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Over coffee and chocolate cake in Hughs flat they reviewed the afternoon. Mort became almost hysterical, insisting he was the cause of Clives death. He was bad luck. Three people had died because of him.
The condemnation sounded universal, but in reality came from only half a dozen loudmouths. The rest were silent, waiting to see who was going to win; who to follow. According to the kids who spoke, Mort had no right to disagree with such a great teacher who everyone liked. He was an evil little refugee who should have been left to drown.