heads. They
probably went round intimidating young
Muslim men, trying to turn them into sources in
the mosques.
'It has its moments,' I said. 'So, what the fuck
are you after?'
Sundance lifted the steaming coffee from the
machine and presented it to me. 'The boss wants
to see you at the office.'
I took the plastic rim with my thumb and forefinger,
but I'd gone off the idea. In fact, I
suddenly felt sicker than I had when I came into
this fucking place. 'When?'
'Eight thirty tonight.' He reached into his
jacket and pulled out a white envelope. 'Here.'
He slapped it against my chest. The end had been
ripped open and I could see cash.
'It's for being a good boy and agreeing to see
the boss. Extension two seven double eight.
There's a taxi waiting outside. It'll take you to
Harley Street and get that arm of yours sorted.'
Sundance pushed his fist harder into me. 'You'll
die waiting for these fuckers to take a look at you,
and you've got an appointment this evening.'
I took the envelope and he backed off.
'See you later, boy.'
'Don't hold your breath. There's somewhere
I've got to go first.'
Sundance's head leapt towards mine. His face
was just inches away. 'The boss said half eight, so
be there.'
It would have been stupid to get big-time with
those two, but I was sorely tempted.
He shifted so his eyes drilled into mine. 'If
you're one second late we'll be seeing you again,
only without the smile. You understand, boy?'
Yes, I knew exactly what he meant. 'What's he
want to see me for?'
He pointed to the screen. The tribute to Pete
was coming to an end. 'To do with that pal of
yours.'
They lumbered off down the corridor, thighs
rubbing against each other. I didn't breathe again
until the two brick shithouses had disappeared
through the door.
I opened the envelope and counted eight
hundred pounds in fifties. The Harley Street
address was written on the back. The wad had
started out as a grand, for sure. They'd deducted
a few expenses. I headed outside. The cab could
take me to Pete's – or, rather, Tallulah and Ruby's
– instead. I'd have to get my arse in gear if I was
going to make it to the Yes Man on time.
I usually got dragged in because they had a job
no one else in their right mind would take. But
I'd have put good money on that not being the
case today. I would be there on time, and for
reasons that had nothing to do with those two
reading me my horoscope.
26
It was about four miles dead south from the
hospital, a journey that would have taken ten
minutes in the middle of the night. I'd been
sitting in the cab for the best part of half an hour,
and we probably had another mile to go. I had to
be back up with the Yes Man at Vauxhall in an
hour and a half, and I didn't want to be late. My
arm hurt enough as it was.
I leant forward to the dividing window. 'Mate,
can you wait when we get there? I'll be half-hour,
max.'
'No problem for me, son. It's your clock.'
One of the Firm's alias-business-cover
accounts would be picking up the tab. There
were hundreds of ABCs dotted round the world.
They financed operations, provided cover jobs,
and generally acted as conduits for cash the Firm
needed to move into various foreign pockets.
ABCs spared government ever having to know
what was done in its name. Politicians like to
hear about results, not how the Firm achieves
them.
The area hadn't changed much, apart from a
one-way system and traffic-lights every few yards.
We headed round the edge of the park and turned
into Croxted Road. Pete was definitely local-boy-done-good.
The Victorian three-storey terraced
houses came complete with bay windows and
shiny door brasses and must have been going for
at least half a million.
'Just drop us here, mate. There's a parking spot
to the right.'
I got out and took a couple of big breaths. I
wanted to be sure I said the right thing. These
people were grieving. I couldn't fuck up.
I hit the doorbell.
A few seconds later there was a voice the other
side. 'Is that you,
probably went round intimidating young
Muslim men, trying to turn them into sources in
the mosques.
'It has its moments,' I said. 'So, what the fuck
are you after?'
Sundance lifted the steaming coffee from the
machine and presented it to me. 'The boss wants
to see you at the office.'
I took the plastic rim with my thumb and forefinger,
but I'd gone off the idea. In fact, I
suddenly felt sicker than I had when I came into
this fucking place. 'When?'
'Eight thirty tonight.' He reached into his
jacket and pulled out a white envelope. 'Here.'
He slapped it against my chest. The end had been
ripped open and I could see cash.
'It's for being a good boy and agreeing to see
the boss. Extension two seven double eight.
There's a taxi waiting outside. It'll take you to
Harley Street and get that arm of yours sorted.'
Sundance pushed his fist harder into me. 'You'll
die waiting for these fuckers to take a look at you,
and you've got an appointment this evening.'
I took the envelope and he backed off.
'See you later, boy.'
'Don't hold your breath. There's somewhere
I've got to go first.'
Sundance's head leapt towards mine. His face
was just inches away. 'The boss said half eight, so
be there.'
It would have been stupid to get big-time with
those two, but I was sorely tempted.
He shifted so his eyes drilled into mine. 'If
you're one second late we'll be seeing you again,
only without the smile. You understand, boy?'
Yes, I knew exactly what he meant. 'What's he
want to see me for?'
He pointed to the screen. The tribute to Pete
was coming to an end. 'To do with that pal of
yours.'
They lumbered off down the corridor, thighs
rubbing against each other. I didn't breathe again
until the two brick shithouses had disappeared
through the door.
I opened the envelope and counted eight
hundred pounds in fifties. The Harley Street
address was written on the back. The wad had
started out as a grand, for sure. They'd deducted
a few expenses. I headed outside. The cab could
take me to Pete's – or, rather, Tallulah and Ruby's
– instead. I'd have to get my arse in gear if I was
going to make it to the Yes Man on time.
I usually got dragged in because they had a job
no one else in their right mind would take. But
I'd have put good money on that not being the
case today. I would be there on time, and for
reasons that had nothing to do with those two
reading me my horoscope.
26
It was about four miles dead south from the
hospital, a journey that would have taken ten
minutes in the middle of the night. I'd been
sitting in the cab for the best part of half an hour,
and we probably had another mile to go. I had to
be back up with the Yes Man at Vauxhall in an
hour and a half, and I didn't want to be late. My
arm hurt enough as it was.
I leant forward to the dividing window. 'Mate,
can you wait when we get there? I'll be half-hour,
max.'
'No problem for me, son. It's your clock.'
One of the Firm's alias-business-cover
accounts would be picking up the tab. There
were hundreds of ABCs dotted round the world.
They financed operations, provided cover jobs,
and generally acted as conduits for cash the Firm
needed to move into various foreign pockets.
ABCs spared government ever having to know
what was done in its name. Politicians like to
hear about results, not how the Firm achieves
them.
The area hadn't changed much, apart from a
one-way system and traffic-lights every few yards.
We headed round the edge of the park and turned
into Croxted Road. Pete was definitely local-boy-done-good.
The Victorian three-storey terraced
houses came complete with bay windows and
shiny door brasses and must have been going for
at least half a million.
'Just drop us here, mate. There's a parking spot
to the right.'
I got out and took a couple of big breaths. I
wanted to be sure I said the right thing. These
people were grieving. I couldn't fuck up.
I hit the doorbell.
A few seconds later there was a voice the other
side. 'Is that you,
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