“I heard you’re looking for Gary the Ghost and them missing diamonds from the Hatton Garden job… That’s right… Don’t matter how I know you’re looking for him, Reid. What matters is I know where you can find him.”
More squeaking from the other end of the phone and Prissy, further in character, nodded, picked some lint from her lapel, let him squawk some more, then interrupted him.
“Listen, this geezer’s sitting in an office off Baker Street. You check your records, you’ll find out he’s been going all over the world scamming the rich, though nobody ever complains, cos he’s such a good con artist half of ‘em don’t realise they’ve even been done.
“Only I know he’s in his office, with those – I mean them – stones. And I thought you ought to know he’s about to do a runner.”
After that, it was simple. Prissy gave him the address, Reid said he’d have a car around shortly and Prissy hung up.
We waited until we heard the sirens before I opened up the text with the word ‘INSTALLED’ on it, hit respond and entered – per Phoenix’s instructions – the word ‘EXECUTE,’ and, as two police cars pulled up outside the offices of The Children’s Protection Fund, the virus that Lowe had installed on his own system when he’d plugged the deliberately-corrupted USB into his laptop went to work, following – as his guard dog once had with me – the trail he’d left back to his cloud account, using the same password he’d entered to access said account and deleting every single piece of blackmail he had on his account.
Caz smiled at me.
“Not a bad job, Mr Bird. Are you going to stick around to see our biter bit?”
I considered this for a moment, then shook my head.
“I think,” I said, holding up the USB stick, “I’m going to go find a certain green-eyed copper, and play him some home movie footage.”
And that is exactly what I did.
THE END
Acknowledgements
Well, here we are again.
Whodathunk?
This one wasn’t exactly an easy birth, and but for the love, support, encouragement, bullying, cajoling, and simple zen acceptance of a bunch of people, I might have given up on it.
So let me take a moment to thank, as always, my husband David, for his love and support and understanding. For chauffeuring, for accepting that dinner will be late, for cheering me on when I’m flying, and for geeing me up when I’m despondent.
My family and friends for reminding me that there is a real life out there too.
Lauren Milne Henderson / Julie Vince / Mark Hill for generosity, advice, books, laughs, and something to aspire to. Love you all very much.
Quentin Bates and Barbara Nadel for Icelandic Japes, and Bona Times. There’s a gag in here specially for you two.
Paddy Magrane / Grant Nichol / Jo Perry / Charles Kriel and the Fahrenheit Press gang. Writers who make me want to write better stories, who make me laugh, LOL at all my jokes, and kick my arse when it needs kicking. I couldn’t ask for better publishing siblings.
Bloggers, bibliophiles and boozers too many to name, but (I hope) you know who you are: You’ve chatted to me at festivals, featured me on your sites, said kind things about the Danny Birds to date, and made me feel so very welcome to this brilliant club. You are the lifeblood of this whole thing, and I salute you all.
Tara Benson for her boundless positivity and creativity; for smiles and for oysters, and for encouraging me to Dance a Great Dance, and to always remember that happiness is the end goal.
Suzanne Gray Cross, my one-woman West Country Sales team, for support and love and general cheer-leading.
The Karaoke Klan and all at the Scene of the Crime, for making me laugh so hard I thought I’d expire, for encouraging my Bowie delusions, and for making my dreams come true by letting me join the gang. I genuinely LOVE you all, and hope to be telling (drunken) stories and signing with you all for many years to come.
And – as always – Mr Fahrenheit, Chris McVeigh. Thanks for your patience, Chris. Now, there’s a line I never thought I’d write.
Like someone once said, there’s just not enough love in the world, and I’m truly blessed to be surrounded by so much of it, and if I have missed you out of this list, it’s not because you are loved any less, or are any less important; it’s simply because my coffee hasn’t kicked in yet.
South Africa – London – New York - Montenegro
DF July/17 x
Other books by Derek Farrell
Death Of A Diva (Danny Bird 1)
Death Of A Nobody (Danny Bird 2)
If you enjoyed this book we’re sure you’ll love these other titles from Fahrenheit Press.
A Mint Condition Corpse by Duncan MacMaster
Hack by Duncan MacMaster
Sparkle Shot by Lina Chern
Jukebox by Saira Viola
All Things Violent by Nikki Dolson
Death Of A Devil Page 31
