Ivory Nation by Andy Maslen (free children's ebooks online txt) 📕

heebie-jeebies when I think about it.’

‘Not innocent people, though, surely?’ Eli said.

Stella shook her head.

‘No. Not really. Some were murderers. Others were accessories. A few were trying to kill me.’

‘There you are, then,’ Eli said. ‘You shouldn’t worry.’

‘As simple as that?’

‘Why not? Listen, Stel, you said your story was conventional. Mine’s a little less conventional. After school I went into the IDF to do my national service. I really enjoyed it. The camaraderie, the training, all of it. But also the action. I was good at it and they recruited me into Special Forces. From there, I went into the Mossad. The real sharp end. Literally. In fact, the Hebrew name for my old outfit means tip of the spear.’

‘Have you killed many people?’ Stella asked.

Eli ate a spoonful of mango.

‘Mm-hmm,’ she mumbled, then swallowed. ‘Lots. It goes with the territory. But they were all enemies. Either mine or my country’s, although it always came down to the same thing in the end. Now I’m with Gabe in The Department, and you know how that works.’

‘But I’m a police officer. We’re supposed to uphold the law, not take it into our own hands.’

‘Who were these people you killed?’ Eli asked.

‘This is off the record?’

Eli grinned. ‘Given what I’ve just told you, I’d say you can trust me to keep my mouth shut.’

Stella sighed out a breath.

‘It all started when my husband and baby daughter were killed by a hit and run driver.’

Over the next fifteen minutes, Eli listened, rapt, as Stella shared her story. Of madness. Of a burning desire for revenge. Of a discovery that shook her faith in the legal system. Of a series of actions that gradually restored it.

‘…and now, although I’m still a successful senior detective, there are people higher up the food chain who’d like to see me gone.’

‘But why?’ Eli said. ‘If you’re so good at what you do.’

Stella smiled but Eli didn’t see much happiness in it.

‘Because I’m a permanent reminder of an episode they’d rather forget.’

‘Ever thought of leaving?’

Stella nodded.

‘Often. Your boss has more or less offered me a job on at least two occasions.’

‘But you’re still at the Met.’

‘Yep. It’s something I said to a friend of mine when she interviewed me on the radio. Deep down, I’m still just a girl in blue.’

‘Then focus on the job at hand,’ Eli said. ‘From the sound of it, the people you killed more than deserved it and justice wouldn’t have been done if you’d gone through official channels. They’d have got away with it. You did the right thing.’

Eli watched a sly smile steal across Stella’s face.

‘What?’ she asked. Because that looks like the genuine article.

‘That’s what Jamie says.’

‘And who is Jamie?’ Eli asked, cupping her chin in her hand and rolling her eyes. ‘A work colleague?’

Stella’s grin widened.

‘He’s my…boyfriend. God, that makes me sound like a twenty-year-old!’

‘No it doesn’t! Gabe’s my boyfriend.’

‘Yeah, and how old are you? Twenty-five? Twenty-six?’

‘Twenty-nine, actually.’

‘Well, I’m forty-one.’

‘Call him your partner, then.’

Stella shuddered.

‘Ugh! I hate that word.’ She put on a ridiculously over-the-top posh voice. ‘Yah, like, Jamie’s my partner, actually?’ Jamah’s ma partnah, arch’lah. ‘We, like, met on a yoga retreat in Madagascar?’ Yogah rahtraht in Mahdagahskah.

Eli snorted with laughter, sending a morsel of soft pink fruit flying towards Stella face. Stella squawked a ‘Hey!’ and ducked, but the episode sent both women into a fit of giggling that woke up the sleeping fruit vendor. She smiled indulgently in their direction then settled her straw hat over her eyes again and reclined against the back of her blue plastic lawn chair.

Stella’s burner phone rang, shattering the calm in the wake of the outbreak of laughter. She looked down, then up at Eli. Only one person had the number.

Eli stretched out her hand.

‘Let me answer it.’

She cleared her throat, stood up and shook her head, before lifting her chin and answering the insistently ringing phone.

‘Yes?’

‘Joyce?’

‘Joyce is on another call. Who is this?’

‘Peter Mafombe. Who are you?’

‘The help. What do you want?’

‘My contact changed his mind. He wants to meet Joyce tonight.’

‘No good. We agreed Friday.’

‘He’s gonna be up country, Friday. Business.’

‘This is business.’

‘Look, lady, if your mistress wants to meet Mr Ivory, tell her to be at the Oasis Lounge tonight at seven or forget it. This is not a negotiation. Clear?’

Eli counted to three.

‘Clear.’

She punched the end call button.

‘Shit!’

‘What is it?’

Eli sat back down.

‘The creatively named “Mr Ivory” just brought the meeting forward.’

‘To when?’

‘Tonight. Seven.’

‘So we do it ourselves. Three would have been preferable but it’s like we were saying, we’re neither of us shrinking violets, are we?’

‘No. But I’d prefer the odds stacked just a little bit more in our favour.’

‘You’ve got your Glock, plus that pea shooter you took off that mugger. We’ll just style it out.’

Eli barked out a short laugh.

‘Fine! But I tell you, Stel. If anybody makes a move, I’ll style his fucking eye out.’

Back at the hotel, Stella’s force-issued phone delivered two pieces of intelligence. Dr Montho called from the university to confirm the soil from the inside of the vehicle trim was definitely local. And Lucian sent her a text.

Trim is Range Rover.

On their second trip to the Oasis, Eli and Stella drove all the way. Figuring it might be a good idea to have their wheels close at hand, Eli parked the Toyota right outside the club. They’d discussed whether the Merc would make a better statement but, in the end, the Toyota’s rugged practicality and lack of brand kudos would make it a safer bet.

She blipped the throttle a couple of times, raising the revs to a deafening roar before killing the engine. Through the windscreen she watched the assorted lowlifes, swagger-merchants, wannabe gangsters and gangsters’ molls for a few seconds.

A couple of the boys moved closer, hands grabbing crotches, trousers at half mast like teenagers all over the world. They made complicated gang signs with knitted fingers and waved through the dusty glass.

In a coordinated move they’d practised back at the resort, Eli