The Hogarth Conspiracy by Alex Connor Read Free Book Online

Surreptitiously, he looked him up and down as they stopped at some traffic lights, heading for the house where he and Ingola lived in the countryside.
    He saw in Victor a little weight loss, a bit of unexpected, premature crinkling around the eyes, but the hair was still dark and the eyes darker. And for all his crumpled clothes—folded too long in prison storage, leaving creases in the wrong places—Victor Ballam still retained his glamour, which, allied to an alert brain and honed ambition, made him memorably appealing. Christian might have the intellect, the professional respect, and the striking wife, but Victor—even this Victor—had the charisma.
    â€œThe lights have changed,” Victor said, winking at his brother, who drove on.
    â€œI thought we would go out for dinner—or we could stay in. Ingola said she would cook, and you know what a good cook she is.” Of course he knows , Christian thought, irritated with himself. Catching sight of his thinning hairline, he wondered why he had inherited the male pattern baldness. But then again, he had inherited Ingola too, so what right did he have to feel jealous? But he had always felt jealous of his brother. “Whatever you want to do tonight, Victor, is fine.”
    â€œI’m not staying.”
    Christian glanced over at him. “What!”
    â€œYou heard me; I’m not staying here. I’m going back to London. Thanks for picking me up, Christian. I appreciate that, but if you’ll drop me at the station—”
    â€œ London? ”
    â€œThat’s where I live. I was only put in Long Lartin because of the nature of my crime. What’s the matter—haven’t they got a color you like?” Victor gestured to the traffic lights as they changed from amber back to red. Behind them, cars started sounding their horns. “I have to get home,” he continued. “I can’t stay here.”
    â€œGo back in a while, when you’ve had a rest.”
    â€œIf I don’t go back now, I’ll keep putting it off,” Victor replied. “Thanks, incidentally, for sorting everything out. I mean … you know what I mean.”
    Before being jailed Victor had taken the opportunity to sign over his London apartment and furniture to his brother for safekeeping. Everything else his talent and skill had earned him over the previous sixteen years had been taken away or repossessed. His personal belongings remained within the Ballam family, but they were to all intents and purposes no longer his. He knew that Christian would never make any reference to their arrangement, but the contrast between having total control of his life and being in tandem with his sibling was marked. And it irked Victor, made him all the more eager to leave Worcestershire and try to regain his old life.
    â€œThanks for keeping an eye on the flat, too.”
    â€œNo problem,” Christian replied. “Your neighbor was very helpful, and when I couldn’t get down to London, Ingola called in. Picked up any letters and packages and sent them on to you.”
    â€œIt must have been a lot of trouble.”
    â€œNo, not at all.” Christian’s tone was strained. He wanted to say something that would break the tension between them, but the words floated above his brain, just out of reach. Instead, he came across as faintly patronizing. “It was the least we could do. I would have visited more, you know, if you’d let me.”
    â€œYou did more than enough,” Victor replied, changing the subject. “I have to get back to London. You understand, don’t you? If I put it off, I’ll never go back. Anyway, I don’t have anything up here. All my things are in the apartment.”
    â€œYou’ll be lonely.”
    â€œJesus,” Victor said, moved and trying hard not to show it. “You sound like you used to sound when we were going back to boarding school. I had to go into another