TURKISH DELIGHT by Barry Faulkner (learn to read activity book .txt) 📕

‘And no doubt it has a tracing app installed?’ I knew it would have – of course it would have. Woodward wanted to know where I was, of course he did.

He just smiled and rose to leave.

‘Whoa.’ I had one item for discussion. He turned back to me and I held out a hand, rubbing my thumb and forefinger together. ‘You forgot to mention?’

He smiled. ‘Remuneration? You haven’t changed Nevis, have you? I seem to remember you were always the one with, shall we say, rather high expense claims?’

‘Can’t live on fresh air and doing one’s duty to the country alone.’

‘Five thousand a week...’ He had second thoughts, ‘No, six thousand a week and no expense claims.’

‘Okay,’ It wasn’t a great deal compared with what I could earn from the likes of Jameson Reynolds, but I was already thinking ahead to the endgame of a million pound hit on Mr Nicholas Rambart; for MI6 to be paying for my time whilst I was reconnoitring and assessing how to achieve that suited me just fine. ‘My bank details are still the same. I’ll be checking every week.’ I gave him my copy of his checkmate smile.

‘I hope to hear from you within forty eight hours, Nevis,’ he said, and gave one last nod and a smile and left flanked by his two bodyguards

Forty-eight hours, where had I heard that before? Time to tell Mrs Rambart she had a deal, but first I’d better call Gold and tell her to clear her diary, we’ve got work to do.

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CHAPTER 4

‘Shit.’

Gold looked over to the table where her phone had started buzzing. One look told her it was Nevis. She put down the horsewhip she was holding and answered it.

‘Yeah?’

‘I’ve got news, we are now in the pay of MI6 at five grand a week.’

‘We are?’

‘You’d best come over, I don’t want to talk on the phone.’

‘I’m working.’

‘Oh, okay – come over when you’re finished. Anybody I know?’

‘Lord Herbert of Chantbury.’

Nevis laughed. ‘Is he still alive?’

‘Just about. I’ll come over now, His Lordship can wait.’ She shut the phone, picked up her shoulder bag from the table and put the whip on it, collected her coat from the chair she’d draped it over, counted out two hundred pounds in tenners from the five hundred on the table, moved over to the bedroom door and shouted through it, ‘Sorry Lord Herbert, gotta go – family business. I’ll call next week,’ and quickly made her way out of Lord Herbert of Chantbury’s Belgravia apartment.

His Lordship emerged from the bedroom in an ill-fitting maid’s uniform, high heels and an overdone application of rouge on his cheeks and stared bewilderedly at the door.

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CHAPTER 5

‘I didn’t think you would be able to resist,’ Eve Rambart spoke into her mobile. She was standing at the front window of the apartment looking down onto Knightsbridge below. ‘You can’t come here, too many of my husband’s people are around here. I’m sure he has them watching me. Apparently there was an unsavoury incident inside the apartment block last night – probably a rough sleeper getting beaten up. I don’t know the ins and outs of it, but if any of my husband’s people had found him near the apartment he’d be lucky to still be alive. You understand what I am saying, Mr Nevis – my husband moves in particularly nasty circles, his business involves such people. I know you are well-versed in that sort of company – no disrespect meant by that remark – but that and your past military career as told to me by Jameson Reynolds is why I paid you a visit. You will be getting into dangerous waters, Mr Nevis – waters with hungry sharks in residence. I have to go to my bank in the morning, Coutts in the Strand – I will be there at ten. If you are there we can transfer a retainer into your bank account – I think two hundred thousand should be about right? Returnable of course, if your mission fails. And don’t forget, Mr Nevis, I move in the same circles as my husband and know people who would answer to me should you try any silly business with the money. No completion of the job means no money, understand?’

She didn’t wait for an answer and closed her phone.

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Nevis closed his phone and looked across the office desk at Gold who raised her eyebrows.

‘Well?’

‘Two hundred grand upfront.’

‘Nice.’

‘And it stays in my account until we complete the hit. If anything goes tits-up I don’t want her people coming round for a refund of money that’s not there.’

‘Okay, so all we have to do is find her old man now and bang bang.’ She made the shape of a gun with her hand.

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The business at the bank went okay – mind you, I got some funny looks from the manager who handled the transaction. Might have been my Status Quo T-shirt and faded jeans, they didn’t seem to fit the opulent Coutts Bank offices; the antique mahogany furniture, hushed tones and dark-suited staff. He raised his eyebrows when I gave the account I wanted the money sent to.

‘Lloyds Bank in Southwark?’

‘Correct.’

‘Are you sure, sir?’

‘I’m sure.’

He obviously was more used to such amounts being transferred to offshore tax havens or maybe Middle Eastern banks. He printed off a receipt for the transaction and another for Eve Rambart and she thanked him and we walked out of the dim bank interior into the bright sunshine in the Strand. A shiny black Merc with tinted passenger windows pulled over and stopped as we walked out. The driver in chauffeur’s uniform got out and came round to open the rear door.

‘I don’t want to hear from you again