Ill's been quite a long time,' he admitted. 'I was a bit out of things for a while. And that side of my life
much closed down.' IfWere you ill?'
f; Something like that. I had a bad tour of duty across : water.' ?In the USA?'
*In Northern Ireland. And by the end of it things I come on top.' " *I came on top a couple of times this afternoon,' she i. 'It's not such a bad place to come!' ('Funny girl.'
^They'd agreed on the ground rules. In public /here except in the flat - they would behave as ent and bodyguard. Not so much as an intimate look pounds Uld pass between them. Slater would do his job
97
The Hit List
exactly as before -- given her husband's vast wealth the possibility of a kidnap attempt remained a real one. Meanwhile they would communicate using text messages on their mobile phones.
The paintings at the reception were very large, and showed hugely enlarged parts of the human body. There was a vast and filthy fingernail, an arsehole the size of a dustbin-lid, a weeping appendectomy scar, and several square metres of acned buttock. For the most part the 200 or so guests were standing with their backs to these paintings, although each new arrival gave the exhibition a cursory glance. To Slater's eye they were a creepy, vampiric bunch - especially the men, with their too-short hair and their tightlipped, puritanical expressions. Grace, as he watched, was greeted by two of them - zombies in their mid-forties with plucked eyebrows and the over-pink faces of habitual amyl nitrate users. Having discussed her outfit in detail - an outfit Slater had helped choose -- they took an arm each and steered her from exhibit to exhibit.
'Are you having a good time?'
At first Slater was unaware that the voice was addressed to him.
'Lost for words, are we?'
Slater nodded, and turned away. The speaker was a carefully groomed man in his fifties with a goatee beard.
'Do you like the paintings, then?'
'Not a lot. At least I wouldn't hang them on my
98
Chris Ryan
S, if that's what you mean. Not that they'd fit on Jls.'
sorry to hear that.' fell, it's a small place. Not bad though, for the
y-'
>, I'm sorry to hear you don't like the paintings. ; do you put on your walls?' ater frowned and pretended to consider. 'Well, |iknow that poster of the tennis girl scratching her
9
ie other man raised an eyebrow. 'Yes, indeed I He nodded vigorously. 'Well, I must be ating.'
sod luck,' Slater called after him. Wanker, he mentally.
soft, familiar voice behind him. 'Neil, I'll be er half hour or so, OK?'
Grace, with her two hangers-on, ater nodded. 'Sure. No problem.' )id I just see you talking to Daniel Sweeting?' she i, indicating the departing man.
asked me if I liked the paintings.' id you told him?' ^said I didn't.'
ae hangers-on looked at each other, their eyes ening in horror.
Jrace smiled. 'He's the artist. He's also a friend of e, so try not to give him too hard a time if you run i him again.' 'm sorry,' said Slater levelly.
99
The Hit List
'Neil looks after me,' Grace told her two companions. 'He keeps me safe. He's my desert island luxury.'
They looked him up and down. Particularly down.
'I suppose this must all seem very strange to you,' said one.
'I've seen stranger,' said Slater, his eyes moving around the room.
'So where did you train?' said the other. 'Is it like a social work thing?'
'Sort of,' said Slater. On the other side of the room Salman Rushdie and Geri Halliwell were walking arm in-arm. Seeing Slater, the novelist raised a hand in greeting.
'Neil knows everyone,' said Grace.
She left him alone after that, and Slater tried not to stare too intently after her. Already he wanted her again, and more badly than he could begin to put into words. He was grateful to his job for having enabled them to meet, but Andreas's crack about bodyguarding being a service industry still reverberated in his mind. These people regarded him as being of lower status than themselves, he mused, and even though they met
much closed down.' IfWere you ill?'
f; Something like that. I had a bad tour of duty across : water.' ?In the USA?'
*In Northern Ireland. And by the end of it things I come on top.' " *I came on top a couple of times this afternoon,' she i. 'It's not such a bad place to come!' ('Funny girl.'
^They'd agreed on the ground rules. In public /here except in the flat - they would behave as ent and bodyguard. Not so much as an intimate look pounds Uld pass between them. Slater would do his job
97
The Hit List
exactly as before -- given her husband's vast wealth the possibility of a kidnap attempt remained a real one. Meanwhile they would communicate using text messages on their mobile phones.
The paintings at the reception were very large, and showed hugely enlarged parts of the human body. There was a vast and filthy fingernail, an arsehole the size of a dustbin-lid, a weeping appendectomy scar, and several square metres of acned buttock. For the most part the 200 or so guests were standing with their backs to these paintings, although each new arrival gave the exhibition a cursory glance. To Slater's eye they were a creepy, vampiric bunch - especially the men, with their too-short hair and their tightlipped, puritanical expressions. Grace, as he watched, was greeted by two of them - zombies in their mid-forties with plucked eyebrows and the over-pink faces of habitual amyl nitrate users. Having discussed her outfit in detail - an outfit Slater had helped choose -- they took an arm each and steered her from exhibit to exhibit.
'Are you having a good time?'
At first Slater was unaware that the voice was addressed to him.
'Lost for words, are we?'
Slater nodded, and turned away. The speaker was a carefully groomed man in his fifties with a goatee beard.
'Do you like the paintings, then?'
'Not a lot. At least I wouldn't hang them on my
98
Chris Ryan
S, if that's what you mean. Not that they'd fit on Jls.'
sorry to hear that.' fell, it's a small place. Not bad though, for the
y-'
>, I'm sorry to hear you don't like the paintings. ; do you put on your walls?' ater frowned and pretended to consider. 'Well, |iknow that poster of the tennis girl scratching her
9
ie other man raised an eyebrow. 'Yes, indeed I He nodded vigorously. 'Well, I must be ating.'
sod luck,' Slater called after him. Wanker, he mentally.
soft, familiar voice behind him. 'Neil, I'll be er half hour or so, OK?'
Grace, with her two hangers-on, ater nodded. 'Sure. No problem.' )id I just see you talking to Daniel Sweeting?' she i, indicating the departing man.
asked me if I liked the paintings.' id you told him?' ^said I didn't.'
ae hangers-on looked at each other, their eyes ening in horror.
Jrace smiled. 'He's the artist. He's also a friend of e, so try not to give him too hard a time if you run i him again.' 'm sorry,' said Slater levelly.
99
The Hit List
'Neil looks after me,' Grace told her two companions. 'He keeps me safe. He's my desert island luxury.'
They looked him up and down. Particularly down.
'I suppose this must all seem very strange to you,' said one.
'I've seen stranger,' said Slater, his eyes moving around the room.
'So where did you train?' said the other. 'Is it like a social work thing?'
'Sort of,' said Slater. On the other side of the room Salman Rushdie and Geri Halliwell were walking arm in-arm. Seeing Slater, the novelist raised a hand in greeting.
'Neil knows everyone,' said Grace.
She left him alone after that, and Slater tried not to stare too intently after her. Already he wanted her again, and more badly than he could begin to put into words. He was grateful to his job for having enabled them to meet, but Andreas's crack about bodyguarding being a service industry still reverberated in his mind. These people regarded him as being of lower status than themselves, he mused, and even though they met
Similar Books
