by Geoff Wolak
* * *
Concerned at the news items he had been viewing, Mr Grey dialled the Virginia number again. ‘Sir, there are some developments.’
‘Problems?’
‘Can’t be a hundred percent sure, sir, but it looks like our friend has started taking out London gangsters and street-corner hoodlums. We’ve got some intercepts, not a clear picture. Also traffic has a definite link to him buying illegal firearms around the UK and then dumping them at police stations late at night.’
‘Do you think he risks exposure?’
‘No, sir. Brits don’t have a clue as to who is behind it. News so far is favourable, British press loving it.’
‘Keep an eye on it.’
4
‘How is your ... office?’ Beesely asked Johno as they all sat down to eat.
The top floor restaurant would have put the best five-star hotel to shame; its panoramic views of the mountains alone guaranteeing a regular and loyal attendance. The imposing cliff-face offered a striking backdrop, now lit with yellow neon beams, its dark crest just visible against the twilight sky. To the west the sun was already behind the hills, but illuminating the distant clouds with a warm amber glow. Along the edge of the lake, lights from the road and from houses flickered, defining the shape of the black lake. A large pleasure-boat headed down the lake’s centre, brightly illuminated.
‘No windows,’ Johno commented, avoiding eye contact and tucking into his double cheeseburger and chips.
‘Never mind,’ Jane offered as she picked at her tuna salad. ‘Maybe they can find you something on a higher floor.’
Otto smiled at Beesely without her noticing.
‘Has my guest arrived?’ Beesely asked Otto.
‘Ah, what?’ Johno whinged. ‘Are we working tonight?’
Beesely touched his arm. ‘Just me and Otto, brief meeting, ten minutes.’ He turned to Jane. ‘And tomorrow, young lady, you and I are going to take a wander in that charming little town.’
She beamed back a huge smile, but clearly seemed tired.
‘Have a long hot bath and early to bed,’ Beesely suggested. ‘Mountain air, it tires you out quickly.’
‘Making me knackered!’ Johno muttered. He looked up and faced Otto. ‘Oh, while I think of it, select twenty of your best guys, send them on an all-night hike, tire them out, and I’ll set a challenge for them twelve noon tomorrow. But make sure they don’t get any sleep. Get me a couple of dozen bottles of beer, some whisky, notepad and paper, an atlas and a child’s puzzle book, age range 11-13.’
Otto was intrigued, Beesely smiling widely.
