to swim?”
Sol stopped his attack. “ Me , teach you ?”
“Yeah – I want to be able to swim in this lake. I don’t want to be stuck in the shallow bit like a little kid.”
“Well,” he pondered. “If you’re serious about learning, it’ll take a lot of work. We’d have to spend a lot of time here.”
“That’s okay with me if it’s okay with you,” she said apprehensively.
“Sure. Why not?” He smiled shyly.
“Great!”
“But of course,” he said with a glint in his eyes, “if you want me to teach you then you’ve got to surrender now and declare me the winner.”
“In your dreams!” Celia blasted water at him as the flooded quarry echoed with the cries of their battle.
Meanwhile Frankie Byrne wasn’t having such a good day. On arriving in the city he’d booked into a cheap hotel, with dozens of small dark rooms and breakfast served
in a damp converted cellar that had the air of a crypt. He reckoned that if his work here was going to take some time, then he might as well maximize his income. It was an old trick of his: stay
somewhere cheap and charge the client for a more expensive hotel – that way he pocketed the substantial difference. He never had any trouble finding some underpaid, unappreciated receptionist
at a swish hotel who would oblige him with a fake bill in return for fifty quid or so.
Frankie had already been on to Julian, demanding that he access the local education authority’s register to see if Celia was attending any of the schools.
“Frankie, this just isn’t fair. I’ve more than fulfilled any obligation I had to you. Have some decency, find someone else to do your dirty work,” said the frazzled
man.
“Unfortunately for you, Julian, decency is one of the many things I lack. Don’t get bitter. We’re a great team, so don’t do anything stupid. If I get put away
there’s no one to miss me, but you, Julian...well, your kids don’t want to be visiting their daddy in jail, do they?”
Frankie knew that he had Julian over a barrel, but he didn’t want to push him too far and make him do anything irrational. So he decided against asking him to hack into the database for
the city housing. He was confident that he could get the information he needed without his help.
He started his inquiries at the main coach station but, after hours of effort, he came away with nothing. He’d shown the picture of Janice around and given them the story of his wife
running off with his daughter, but no one could remember seeing them. When he asked all the taxi drivers waiting for business outside the station, he got the same response. “You must be
joking. Thousands of people pass through here every day and you’re asking about a couple from over three weeks ago.”
He headed to the main housing office in the centre of the city. Positioning himself in the busy waiting area gave him a good view of all the workers behind their desks, who were dealing with a
constant stream of people. He watched and listened, soon picking up who were the more senior housing officers and who were the junior, inexperienced ones. The senior staff dealt with the clients
quickly and efficiently; they steered people away from spilling out their terrible life stories and kept it strictly to getting facts and dealing with the housing issue. On the other hand, he
observed that one of the younger workers was unable to control the interviews with his clients. He fumbled around with his papers while Frankie kept hearing him say, “Actually I’m not
too sure about our policy on that, but I’ll look into it for you.” At one point a colleague came and whispered in his ear. The younger man coloured up, saying, “I’m going as
fast as I can.”
Frankie knew that this was his man: inexperienced, kind and harassed – just the type to give out confidential information on trust. He walked up to his desk, politely interrupting his
current conversation, and motioned towards the pile of
Sol stopped his attack. “ Me , teach you ?”
“Yeah – I want to be able to swim in this lake. I don’t want to be stuck in the shallow bit like a little kid.”
“Well,” he pondered. “If you’re serious about learning, it’ll take a lot of work. We’d have to spend a lot of time here.”
“That’s okay with me if it’s okay with you,” she said apprehensively.
“Sure. Why not?” He smiled shyly.
“Great!”
“But of course,” he said with a glint in his eyes, “if you want me to teach you then you’ve got to surrender now and declare me the winner.”
“In your dreams!” Celia blasted water at him as the flooded quarry echoed with the cries of their battle.
Meanwhile Frankie Byrne wasn’t having such a good day. On arriving in the city he’d booked into a cheap hotel, with dozens of small dark rooms and breakfast served
in a damp converted cellar that had the air of a crypt. He reckoned that if his work here was going to take some time, then he might as well maximize his income. It was an old trick of his: stay
somewhere cheap and charge the client for a more expensive hotel – that way he pocketed the substantial difference. He never had any trouble finding some underpaid, unappreciated receptionist
at a swish hotel who would oblige him with a fake bill in return for fifty quid or so.
Frankie had already been on to Julian, demanding that he access the local education authority’s register to see if Celia was attending any of the schools.
“Frankie, this just isn’t fair. I’ve more than fulfilled any obligation I had to you. Have some decency, find someone else to do your dirty work,” said the frazzled
man.
“Unfortunately for you, Julian, decency is one of the many things I lack. Don’t get bitter. We’re a great team, so don’t do anything stupid. If I get put away
there’s no one to miss me, but you, Julian...well, your kids don’t want to be visiting their daddy in jail, do they?”
Frankie knew that he had Julian over a barrel, but he didn’t want to push him too far and make him do anything irrational. So he decided against asking him to hack into the database for
the city housing. He was confident that he could get the information he needed without his help.
He started his inquiries at the main coach station but, after hours of effort, he came away with nothing. He’d shown the picture of Janice around and given them the story of his wife
running off with his daughter, but no one could remember seeing them. When he asked all the taxi drivers waiting for business outside the station, he got the same response. “You must be
joking. Thousands of people pass through here every day and you’re asking about a couple from over three weeks ago.”
He headed to the main housing office in the centre of the city. Positioning himself in the busy waiting area gave him a good view of all the workers behind their desks, who were dealing with a
constant stream of people. He watched and listened, soon picking up who were the more senior housing officers and who were the junior, inexperienced ones. The senior staff dealt with the clients
quickly and efficiently; they steered people away from spilling out their terrible life stories and kept it strictly to getting facts and dealing with the housing issue. On the other hand, he
observed that one of the younger workers was unable to control the interviews with his clients. He fumbled around with his papers while Frankie kept hearing him say, “Actually I’m not
too sure about our policy on that, but I’ll look into it for you.” At one point a colleague came and whispered in his ear. The younger man coloured up, saying, “I’m going as
fast as I can.”
Frankie knew that this was his man: inexperienced, kind and harassed – just the type to give out confidential information on trust. He walked up to his desk, politely interrupting his
current conversation, and motioned towards the pile of
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