Saz crossed the room to where James was waiting.
“I just thought I’d check how you’re getting on, come in to my office and we’ll have a chat.”
Saz followed him into the room. It was pretty much the blueprint office of any successful businessman – padded leather couch, polished mahogany table, full drinks cabinet, a few tasteful prints and very little that actually looked like it could function in a working office other than the imposing desk where Mr James now took a seat. The kind of desk Saz just wished that the over-officious Colleen from the Enterprise Allowance office could see her sitting behind. He motioned her to sit down opposite him.
“Well, September, you seem to be doing very well indeed.”
Saz put on her friendly, slightly stupid face.
“Yeah, thanks Mr James. To tell the truth I’m enjoying it a lot more than I thought I would.”
“You thought you wouldn’t like it?”
“No, not that, I just didn’t know if I’d be any good at it, but it’s quite fun really.”
“Have you given any thought to how long you’ll be staying with us then?”
“Oh, well, as I told you, I do plan to move on in a week or so …”
“Once you’ve got what you came for?”
Saz was startled out of her dippy persona.
“Sorry?”
“What you came for – building up the bank balance. Adding to the travel fund?”
Her pulse slowly descended to its usual rate.
“Oh, yes. Building up the bank balance. Right.”
James got up and went over to the drinks cabinet.
“English. Now let me see – gin and tonic?”
“Um, oh all right, yes, I’ll make an exception this one time – please.”
“Never did know an English girl to refuse a gin!” He smarmed and handed her the glass.
“Have you been travelling long?”
“A few months.”
“I guess your funds must be pretty low then huh?”
“Well, yes, but this seems to be doing the trick.”
“You’re very good at the job you know September, you could stay on longer if you wanted. Or come back maybe, in a few months.”
“Well, yes, I suppose I could.”
She took another gamble, thinking of what Charlie had told her about the other September’s work habits.
“I mean, I love New York. It would be wonderful to be able to come back three or four times a year.”
“Become one of my regulars, you mean?”
James was smiling now, looking more relaxed.
“Yes, I suppose I do.”
Saz smiled back at him, trusting this tall, extremely good-looking man less and less with every sip of her too-strong gin.
“Well, we’ll see what we can do, yeah September? Time you got back to work now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“And that’s all he said?” Caroline muttered, valiantly trying to stay awake while Saz changed and told her the story of her evening’s work.
“That’s it. I’ve got three theories now. Wanna hear them?”
“Do I have any choice? You might as well tell me, you’re only going to keep me awake all night trying to work it out in your head if you don’t say them out loud.”
“OK. Theory Number One – he’s running a drugs ring and is going to ask me to take a … a CD of Neil Sedaka’s ‘Calendar Girl’ back to London for a friend, but actually it’s really a cleverly disguised stash of cocaine.”
“Some drugs ring. The amount of coke he’d fit into a CD is hardly going to make him Mr Big of the Underworld!”
“Well, we’ll know when the time comes for him to give me my going away present won’t we? Stop interrupting. Theory Number Two – he’s a member of the mafia …”
“With a name like Simon James? Shouldn’t he be called Riccardo or Giorgio?”
“Right, he’d really name himself after a perfume! James is just a pseudonym. And the gambling tables are a cleverly disguised way of laundering stolen funds.”
“Marginally more possible. But unlikely given just how drunk you’ve told me the gamblers get. However if it is the case then I think you’d better leave New York now and never come
“I just thought I’d check how you’re getting on, come in to my office and we’ll have a chat.”
Saz followed him into the room. It was pretty much the blueprint office of any successful businessman – padded leather couch, polished mahogany table, full drinks cabinet, a few tasteful prints and very little that actually looked like it could function in a working office other than the imposing desk where Mr James now took a seat. The kind of desk Saz just wished that the over-officious Colleen from the Enterprise Allowance office could see her sitting behind. He motioned her to sit down opposite him.
“Well, September, you seem to be doing very well indeed.”
Saz put on her friendly, slightly stupid face.
“Yeah, thanks Mr James. To tell the truth I’m enjoying it a lot more than I thought I would.”
“You thought you wouldn’t like it?”
“No, not that, I just didn’t know if I’d be any good at it, but it’s quite fun really.”
“Have you given any thought to how long you’ll be staying with us then?”
“Oh, well, as I told you, I do plan to move on in a week or so …”
“Once you’ve got what you came for?”
Saz was startled out of her dippy persona.
“Sorry?”
“What you came for – building up the bank balance. Adding to the travel fund?”
Her pulse slowly descended to its usual rate.
“Oh, yes. Building up the bank balance. Right.”
James got up and went over to the drinks cabinet.
“English. Now let me see – gin and tonic?”
“Um, oh all right, yes, I’ll make an exception this one time – please.”
“Never did know an English girl to refuse a gin!” He smarmed and handed her the glass.
“Have you been travelling long?”
“A few months.”
“I guess your funds must be pretty low then huh?”
“Well, yes, but this seems to be doing the trick.”
“You’re very good at the job you know September, you could stay on longer if you wanted. Or come back maybe, in a few months.”
“Well, yes, I suppose I could.”
She took another gamble, thinking of what Charlie had told her about the other September’s work habits.
“I mean, I love New York. It would be wonderful to be able to come back three or four times a year.”
“Become one of my regulars, you mean?”
James was smiling now, looking more relaxed.
“Yes, I suppose I do.”
Saz smiled back at him, trusting this tall, extremely good-looking man less and less with every sip of her too-strong gin.
“Well, we’ll see what we can do, yeah September? Time you got back to work now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“And that’s all he said?” Caroline muttered, valiantly trying to stay awake while Saz changed and told her the story of her evening’s work.
“That’s it. I’ve got three theories now. Wanna hear them?”
“Do I have any choice? You might as well tell me, you’re only going to keep me awake all night trying to work it out in your head if you don’t say them out loud.”
“OK. Theory Number One – he’s running a drugs ring and is going to ask me to take a … a CD of Neil Sedaka’s ‘Calendar Girl’ back to London for a friend, but actually it’s really a cleverly disguised stash of cocaine.”
“Some drugs ring. The amount of coke he’d fit into a CD is hardly going to make him Mr Big of the Underworld!”
“Well, we’ll know when the time comes for him to give me my going away present won’t we? Stop interrupting. Theory Number Two – he’s a member of the mafia …”
“With a name like Simon James? Shouldn’t he be called Riccardo or Giorgio?”
“Right, he’d really name himself after a perfume! James is just a pseudonym. And the gambling tables are a cleverly disguised way of laundering stolen funds.”
“Marginally more possible. But unlikely given just how drunk you’ve told me the gamblers get. However if it is the case then I think you’d better leave New York now and never come
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